“I couldn’t help but notice,” Lothíriel said sweetly, “how skittish you have been, my lord.  Is there something the matter?”

“Yes,” said Éomer grimly, “but it concerns you little.”  Of course, if she was the cousin that Faramir had had Meriadoc deliver his letter to, it might concern her much, but this was a private quarrel!  No.  His sister had made this match, not Faramir, and he ought not doubt one who was, most likely, an innocent woman.

“You are, of course, free to keep your secrets.  But every lady in Minas Tirith knows how you have avoided our company, and Éowyn told me still more when she spoke with me earlier.  Surely the man who has faced death and slaughter cannot be intimidated by mere women?”

“Things are different in the Riddermark,” said Éomer.  “The only one whom anyone could ask to seek a woman’s hand out of love is the King’s heir.  I had never had reason to think people would want me to woo anyone on their terms and not mine.”

“So the fault lies with us, for not stirring your heart?  But you have done little to let it be stirred!”

“Lady, my uncle is lately passed, and I have not even returned to my homeland and my people.  Now is hardly the time to court a lady.”

“And yet,” said Lothíriel, “here you are.”

Éomer sat bolt upright.  “Éowyn could not have told you that I was here to woo you!”

Lothíriel gave a small smile.  “I distinctly recall her telling me the opposite.  Have no fear, this is strictly an escort of appearances.”

“Good.”  He was skittish, he thought.  Even if Faramir had done nothing, he would be revenged by all the turmoil Éomer was going through now, just wondering.

“Still,” Lothíriel went on, “it would have been better if you had started this earlier.  We are bound to cause talk.”

“I know,” Éomer said through gritted teeth.  Had he done the right thing? 

Lothíriel was heedless of his discomfort.  “People will be wondering what caused you to change your mind—politics, perhaps, or did I simply happen to be prettier than the rest?  I took on no small risk agreeing to this, you know.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to turn it to good effect,” Éomer said, and hoped that she would drop the topic.  The third course was brought out, and much was he relieved for the distraction.

Yet as soon as the servants had left the table, Lothíriel leaned towards him conspiratorially and whispered, “So, what did make you change your mind, my lord?”

It was going to be a long night.