PROMPT: "Oi, that's my hot chocolate!"

Eomer can hear the squabbling before he opens the door.

"Oi," a high-pitched voice whines. "That's my hot chocolate!"

"Nu uh!"

"Yes it is!"

"No, s'mine!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

Frowning, wondering why a thing like hot chocolate was causing the usually well-behaved Darwyn and Blodwyn to throw such a tantrum-and doubly curious as to where their respective parents had vanished to-he raises his hand to the door.

The much more controlled voice of his wife stops him short. "Girls, what seems to be the fuss?"

"Blodwyn is trying to steal my hot chocolate!" Darwyn chirps.

"S'mine!" The younger girl insists.

"You have your own!"

"Aunt Firi didn't make it," is the petulant response. "S'not as good!"

Eomer hides a smile behind his hand. Both at his goddaughter's charming name for Lothiriel, and for the overall silliness of the argument.

"I see," murmurs Lothiriel. "What if I were to make another hot chocolate for you, Blodwyn?"

"But then hers will be fresher!" Pouts Darwyn. "That's not fair."

There's a noise of disagreement-presumably Blodwyn-and a slight scuffle. Eomer takes this opportunity to open the door a hair. The scene revealed is exactly what he imagined; Blodwyn cradling the warm mug of cocoa to her body as Darwyn stretches herself across the table towards her, frowning mightily.

Lothiriel's eyes lift up to meet his and she offers him a small smile before reaching a gentle hand between the cousins to separate them.

"Now, Darwyn, Blodwyn," Lothiriel says, voice losing its warm amusement and turning towards gentle scolding. "Neither of you will get hot chocolate if we can't find a peaceful way to resolve this."

That makes both girls pause. Darwyn slumps back into her seat as Blodwyn's lower lip begins to quiver.

"But Aunt Firi," she mumbles, "we like your cocoa."

"I know that, lylting," Lothiriel answers, running a gentle hand through Blodwyn's bright copper hair. "And I am more than happy to make some for you. For both of you." She taps Darwyn's nose gently to get her attention and smiles when she wrinkles it. "But I do not want you to quarrel over something that is meant to be a treat."

The girls eye each other and the mug of cocoa closely.

Eomer drifts closer, smiling at the amused twitch of Lothiriel's lips. "I think an apology is needed," he whispers, smile blooming into a grin as the girls turn wide, surprised eyes on him.

"Oh!"

"Uncle Eomer!"

"Good afternoon," he says, dropping a kiss to both of their heads and then Lothiriel's cheek. "I see I am interrupting hot chocolate."

"And a battle," Lothiriel adds, leaning against his side. "But Uncle Eomer is right-I think you both need to apologize before we can enjoy our cocoa."

Looking incredibly like Wilfled in miniature, Blodwyn blinks blue eyes in her cousin's direction. "I am sorry I took your cocoa, Darwyn. That wasn't nice."

"I am sorry I shouted at you. It wasn't very nice either."

Satisfied, they both give Lothiriel a pleading expression. Laughing, she pulls another mug towards her, evenly distributing the much debated hot chocolate. "There now. And I'll tell you a Dol Amrothian secret: hot chocolate tastes better when it's shared."

Both girls eagerly slurp their drinks, giggling at each other. Eomer tucks his arm around his wife's waist, leaning down to press a kiss to the tempting curve of her neck. "A Dol Amrothian secret, hm?"

"Amrothos and I had similar fights many times over as children," she murmurs. "It seems as good a claim as any."

Chuckling, he steals a sip from her own mug of cocoa. It's as delicious as it was the first time she'd made it, the first Yule after they'd wed. For the girls' benefit, he says, "Mm. Definitely better when shared."

Lothiriel rolls her eyes fondly. The rest of the afternoon passes pleasantly-Darwyn and Blodwyn are both old enough now to have very firm opinions on Yule, presents, and snow-until Eothain appears to shepherd them home.

"Thank you again for watching them, Lothiriel," he says, hoisting Darwyn onto his shoulders and Blodwyn on his hip. "With Wilfled and Lisswyn both feeling so poorly-"

"It was no trouble at all," she promises him. "I hardly mind taking the burden off two of my dearest friends in the midst of pregnancies."

Ah, Eomer thinks, that explains it.

Eothain chuckles. "At least we have peace for now. I imagine once the two new little ones are born, none of us will know quiet ever again."

"As if you know what quiet is," Eomer adds. "Let me remind you, my friend, it was your voice that always got us in trouble as children."

Eothain makes a rude-and discreet-hand gesture behind Blodwyn's back. "I dearly look forward to the day that your rooms also are filled with the laughter-and screams-of babes, Eomer King."

Eomer nearly winces-Eothain is sincere in that, he has no doubt, but he cannot tell his captain and friend how sore a subject he has just trod on. He and Lothiriel have been trying for months for a babe, with no success.

But his wife looks unfazed by his declaration, instead giving Darwyn's foot a gentle squeeze, Blodwyn's tiny hand a kiss, and patting Eothain's cheek. "Go on now, Eothain. I am sure my brother is being run ragged between his own wife and yours."

Chuckling, he offers them a jaunty salute before making his way out of their rooms. Eomer wraps himself around Lothiriel from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You are a brave woman, to take on those two hellions alone."

Lothiriel snorts. "Well, I thought it best to have ample practice."

Eomer's brow furrows. "For what?"

She turns in his arms, eyes bright with happiness as she slides his hand to rest on the-oh Bema, how could he have missed it?-swell of her stomach. "It seems Eothain's wish for you will be coming true sooner than expected."

His breath leaves him in a rush. "I-Lothiriel-you-we-"

"You are so terribly hard to find Yule presents for, my love," she teases. "But perhaps a child will do?"

He kisses her laughter away, until she's wrapped very snugly in his arms, breathless.