They had been at the makeshift range all afternoon, shooting into the flimsy targets that had been set up for the army to practise upon. Éomer’s skill was much alike to his sister’s; neither were incompetent, but neither were overly remarkable. Legolas and Elrond’s sons were so good they had been banished to a separate butt to practise on their own, and Aragorn was near to joining them.
“That’s the tenth time,” Éomer grumbled, glaring moodily at the bullseye Aragorn’s arrow jutted from.
Éowyn laughed at her brother. “You are giving up!” she accused him playfully. “Shoot another! Or maybe I will best you!” She raised her bow, laughing.
Éomer went to bend his bow once more, but a heavy droplet struck his face. As he looked up, more began to fall. “It looks like it will be heavy,” Aragorn murmured, “Come, let us go inside.”
They retreated into Aragorn’s pavilion as the rain began to fall in earnest, battering the rows of white tents and making cook fires sputter and smoulder. All of Dunharrow became sodden under the clouds.
“Would you like some cheese, sister?” Éomer asked. Éowyn turned from where she had been looking out to see the rest digging in to some meagre fare Aragorn had had squirreled away. Éomer held a hand out, offering some white and crumbly cheese to her. “I also have tomatoes here.”
She sat opposite him and accepted. “Thank you.” She took the tomatoes too, and they were fairly fresh. She wondered how Aragorn had come by them.
His eyes caught hers over the circle, and he said, “Down in the forest,” as if he had read her mind. She smiled bashfully and looked away.
She had never wanted to be in love before, and the idea of a husband had never really appealed to her overly much. But now…A husband could read his wife, could he not? Especially after years of marriage. Did it not bode well, that he already could?
She had not looked for marriage, but she had never been adverse to love, and here it stood. And she realized that valour and glory in truth mattered less; that was all she ever really wanted.