Éomer was seated diagionally across from Éowyn, at King Elessar's left side, while she herself had for neighbours Eothain and, ironically, Faramir. She glanced angrily at their host, suspecting he may have had some part in deciding the guests' seats - for though hearing the Steward's mere voice sent Éowyn's mind reeling, she could not allow herself the slightest display of interest in him. Indeed, for the entire feast, she had been obliged to keep a vigilant eye on Éomer, in case he happened to glance up at her and see the way her gaze continually drifted towards the man to her left. He did not; he conversed the entire evening alternately with King Elessar, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, and even, at times, with the Steward. That she would have to keep up her act until the cursed day when her brother would discover it made Éowyn grit her teeth in frustration. She now knew that she should have corrected his misgivings about her feelings towards Faramir as soon as he spoke them, but she was too far in to retreat. Éomer would already feel betrayed that she had lied to him.

"Sister! What say you to that?" His convivial tone brought her out of her gloomy contemplation, and she blinked as though woken from sleep.

"Pardon?"

"Our generous host proposed a hunt on the morrow, and suggested you might be of the party." All the surrounding faces were turned towards her expectantly, and she felt foolish taking a few moments to understand her brother's words.

"It is hunting season, after all," added Imrahil, as though she were some pampered city-born lady with no knowledge of the hunt.

Her pride ruffled, she gave a bright smile and answered, "Why, the King and Steward shall be at an advantage, for they have the skills and practice of Rangers! We shall all be put to shame. But I cannot decline such an invitation, thank you, my Lord." She nodded to Elessar in gratitude and turned to converse again with Eothain, though she could feel Faramir's eyes on her as she did so. Soon after, he excused himself from the banquet, explaining that he wished to retire for the night due to an early morning to follow.

When she herself left the feasting hall - she had quickly discovered that though sitting by him indifferently was frustrating, his absence made the banquet strikingly dull - a figure awaited her in the corridor. She smiled and took his arm gratefully.

"You ignored me all evening," said Faramir, repeating the words she had uttered several months before, as they instinctively made their way towards the gardens of the Houses of Healing, where they had spent many an evening in pleasant conversation.

"Again, my brother is to blame..." answered Éowyn, exasperation evident in her voice. They emerged into the open air, and she found that the steady wind which had buffeted the trees' leaves about during her last stay had been replaced by a gentle breeze. The weather was milder here than in Edoras, she thought to herself, admiring the moonlit lilies and lavender.

"Patience, my love. He will eventually let you go. Did you see? He actually addressed me this evening, and he was not even scowling as he did so." She laughed.

"It would have been very rude of him to ignore you all meal whilst you were sat opposite him."

"Ah, indeed. That is possibly his reason for conversing with me. But Éowyn, we have not properly spoken since your arrival; how are you?"

"Oh, I am fine. But we always speak in our letters! There is much that I have missed which cannot be done through words..." As she spoke, her arms wove their way around his neck and she pressed herself closer to him, an inviting smile playing across her lips.

His hands were just reaching the small of her back to draw her closer still, when hurried footsteps resonated across the floor before pausing suddenly. The entangled couple whirled to find a young girl watching them with an amused expression on her face.

"Lothíriel! What in Arda are you doing here?" asked Faramir, relieved at the recognising his cousin. He had feared the witness might have been a stranger who would spread rumours, or worse yet, Éomer.

"I believe I could ask you the very same question, if I had not already seen the answer for myself," said Lothíriel. One of her eyebrows was raised, but she wore a good-natured smile and her eyes twinkled with mirth.

"Well. Er." Faramir stepped away from a slightly puzzled Éowyn, smoothing his vest and hair. "Lothíriel, this is the Lady Éowyn of Rohan. My lady, may I introduce my cousin, Lothíriel of Dol Amroth. I, er, regret that you could not meet in better conditions." Éowyn embraced the girl in a friendly manner, though she was still a little befuddled, and also irritated her kiss with Faramir had been interrupted so soon.

"I have heard much about you, my lady," said Lothíriel, grinning and turning to the Steward. "But your introduction was unnecessary, Faramir. I recognised the Lady of Rohan instantly, she looks so very much like her brother."

"Lothíriel... That is hardly a compliment," said Faramir, uneasy. His cousin's straightforward manner often left a poor impression on acquaintances; but Éowyn merely laughed.

"Well, I do not mean to say you look like a man," explained Lothíriel quickly. "In fact, the features are handsome on the both of you."

"Why, thank you, Lady Lothíriel. I swear that is the first kind word I have recieved from a Gondorian, the Healers put aside," answered Éowyn.

"And what of me?" said Faramir, feigning distress.

"Oh, pff! Dear cousin, a lover's opinion can be counted upon to be biased. For Lady Éowyn, compliments from you cannot be trusted. Anyway," she added, "I have read your secret stash of poems! Talk about putting someone on a pedestal." She rolled her eyes, earning laughter from Éowyn.

"Good grief, Lothíriel! Allow a man some privacy, will you? I thought those poems were well hidden!" Faramir said, though his tone implied jest. But at that moment voices drifted through the open windows of a building above, reminding the three that they were not alone. "I shall take my leave of you, for it grows late, and we hunt tomorrow. Good night, Lothíriel, my Lady." He nodded in turn to the young women, then hesitated and furtively kissed Éowyn's brow, before striding off into the corridors of Minas Tirith.

Éowyn turned to bid Lothíriel farewell too when she noticed the diverted smile the other girl wore.

"What is the matter?"

"Oh, nothing at all. It is simply quite endearing to watch, the game you and he play. He loves you very much, you know."

"He has informed me of it, yes... However any degree of attachment will be useless if my brother does not consent to our betrothal."

"Oh, fear not, Lady Éowyn. I believe his mind may yet be changed. Good night!" And with no further explanation than a worryingly mischievous grin, Lothíriel followed her cousin into the buildings. Éowyn was left with nothing to do but inhale one last breath of fresh air and leave the Gardens as well.

That which had originally been a spark of interest was quickly approaching obsession. Try as he might, Éomer could not tear his eyes away from the Princess of Dol Amroth as she swung up onto her mare with the help of a Rider.

The hunting party were preparing to leave for Druadan, where it was said there was more than enough game. Éomer rode over to the front, behind King Elessar, making an effort to distract himself from Lothíriel and her enticing mannerisms. It peeved him to watch the other Riders pay attention to her and more so for her to happily receive it.

"Fine weather for riding, is it not?" said Elessar as Éomer joined him. He noticed that the Steward was not by his King; a glance over his shoulder attested that the man was to ride at the rear, though he knew not why.

"Indeed, as is the company," remarked Éomer, but before more could be exchanged trumpets sounded, announcing the beginning of the hunt; thought it was not quite a hunt as of yet, for they would have to ride to the forest first which would likely take a couple of hours.

Indeed, they only reached the boundary of foliage at noon, and it was decided that they should pause for nuncheon and eat upon the ground before entering Druadan forest. Determined to assert himself, Éomer sat beside Lothíriel before he could be invited elsewhere. She glanced up immediately and bit back a smile.

"My lord," she greeted, nodding politely.

"Lothíriel of Dol Amroth," he said, reaching for a bun of bread. "I have long wondered how you came upon my sword, the day I returned to Rohan. Would you care to enlighten me?"

"Oh. That."

"Because I cannot see what business a princess would have in a foreign lord's chamber, even if it led to the fortunate retrieval of his weapon." He could not suppress the grin which spread across his face as he cornered her in her own mischief.

"In all honesty, my lord, I wished to leave an impression on you. Which seems to have been accomplished, by the fact that you have chosen to address me again." She concluded her frank explanation with a smile.

"How would it help you to earn the attention of a King from abroad? Surely you ought to be spending your energy endearing yourself to your own lord Elessar, not myself."

"Bah! I cannot say what I wish to him. Anyway, I wanted to speak to you, to see if they were right."

"What about?"

"You being so very charming and handsome. Well, handsome, I had already figured that out–" Lothíriel clamped her hand over her mouth in horror at that which she had let slip, but Éomer grinned.

"And as for charming, what is your assessment, my lady?"

"I suppose so," she replied, recovering from her faux pas and displaying her usual would-be critical air. "How was Rohan upon your return?"

And so the pair fell into amiable discussion.

Éowyn was, to put matters mildly, angry. She rode at a slow pace with the group, her eyes boring into the back of her brother, who was still deep in conversation with Lady Lothíriel. During the entire meal, she had been forced to sit far away from Faramir, and engage in dull discourse with some airheaded Gondorian knight while Éomer paid less heed to her than on the eve.

It was not the lack of attention in itself which irked her so much as the possibility of it, and therefore the necessity of keeping away from the Steward. Their stolen kiss had awoken her desire more than quenched it, and she found herself daydreaming silently about the feel of his lips against hers, unconsciously lagging towards the back of the party.

Suddenly there was a shift in the atmosphere and King Elessar spurred his horse forward through the trees, quickly followed by the rest of the hunt. In the rapid commotion everyone's focus was directed towards accelerating after the King and none noticed a strong arm lift Éowyn off her ride and onto another.

Laughing gaily, she lay back against Faramir's chest as he swerved his stallion in another direction and rode away from the hunting party. After a short while he steadied the horse and dropped onto the ground, reaching to help Éowyn down. (He was aware that she did not require the aid, being likely more agile on horseback than he, but it was a convenient excuse to hold her.)

"You are mad," she whispered breathlessly, before drawing him into an ardent embrace.