Éomer knew something was the matter when, on walking from the throne room to the Riddermark’s guest lodgings, Faramir accompanied him for some way and attempted to engage him in far more conversation than was his wont.  “Do you wish to speak with me about something?” he finally said, irritated at the Steward’s circumlocutions.

            Immediately Faramir was aware of his actions.  “Forgive me.  I was debating with myself whether to speak or not.  I need some help regarding your sister.”

            Éomer stiffened.  “What sort of help?”

            “Help in persuading her.”

            “I think you have already outdone me there, in persuading her to love such a man as you.”

            Faramir stopped in his tracks, not sure what to make of such an affront until Éomer could no longer contain his laughter.  It was a most peculiar form of mirth—one that the Steward had never encountered before—that was best described as a “guffaw.”

            A light step behind them alerted both to the presence of another.  “I’d recognize that laugh from anywhere—I hope it was not at Faramir’s expense, brother!”

            Éomer turned to Éowyn.  “Only slightly—it just seemed so odd that he would come to me asking for help in bending your iron will.”

            “Faramir, what were you…”

            “I only wish to put off the day, if it is possible—”

            Éomer whirled back to face Faramir.  “If you mean to suggest that you are having any hesitations about marrying—”

            Before the situation could get any crazier, Éowyn intervened.  “Peace, brother.  I know what this is about.  Faramir has agreed, as the terms of a contest, to wear an outfit of my choosing for a day.  He is only concerned because I have decided that the outfit will be feminine—a dress, to be precise.”

            Faramir had the distinct impression that he was going to be hearing that guffaw very much the next day.  “Actually, Éowyn, I was thinking that if the King of Rohan wished you and the Queen could find a dress for him as well.”

            Éomer darkened, but his sister ignored him.  “Oh, but that would never do!  He does yet not have a lemman.”  She looked shrewdly at Éomer.  “You have thought about that, haven’t you—you’ll have to marry, at the very least to continue the line…”

            Éomer did not exactly run from the hallway.

            “A smart man,” said Faramir.  “Were I wiser I would do the same.”

            Éowyn smiled.  “And why, exactly, did you wish to delay wearing your outfit?”

            “Only until Khand left.  They should learn to respect us, not belittle us.”

            “I merely follow the Queen’s judgment there.  You should get to bed, love.  Tomorrow will be a long day.”

            Faramir finally gave up, and went to his chambers.  For a long time he lay awake, wondering how he had gotten into this mess and dreading the next day, but eventually he slipped into a light slumber.