“After our parents died, I had a pony, at Edoras; a mourning-gift …” Éowyn’s voice faded into the hazy sun.

Nearby, Faramir raised his head. “What happened?”

“I left him … for a sword.” Éowyn’s smile bloomed, then shone from her eyes. “I left the sword for you.

“Now, your turn …” She stretched beside him. “Were there lots of girls?”

Endearingly, Faramir colored. “A few … then one day Boromir brought me here. I’d never seen anything so lovely, or sad. Ithilien took my heart.”

Suddenly, her body pinned his down. “Should I be jealous?”

Her eyes sparkled; he grinned: “Yes … very!”