A/N: Eofara fanfic. Three years after Sauron's defeat Eowyn and Faramir are both being dense so neither one realises that the other is in love with them, even though the entire cities of Minas Tirith and Edoras from Aragorn and Éomer on down are eagerly awaiting developments in the romance. Meanwhile, Wormtongue has escaped from Saruman…eeheehee.

I leaned against the frame of the window of my bower as I brushed my hair, staring out across the rolling, snow-covered plains of Rohan. Horses dotted the view, some with riders, some unburdened. Morning in Edoras is always noisy, even in winter, and the chatter of the women in the market drifted up to me on a faint, cold breeze that also carried the scent of roasting meat. I sniffed, trying to identify it, and finally decided on beef.

Better beef then the scent of bodies being burned. I shuddered. Even three years after Sauron's defeat, we still battled Orcs almost daily. Fortunately the Uruk-Hai who had not been defeated at Helm's Deep had been killed in the flooding of Isengarde and the subsequent battle with the Ents.

Yet my people and those of Gondor still died, almost daily, and all for the sake of a power-mad thing.

I sighed, and put my brush down on the sill. With my long hair untangled, I was ready to face the day, and the loneliness it would throw at me. I went to the door and started to push it open.

Then I remembered, with a gasp, that I had forgotten my hair-clasp. How could I? I ran to my dressing table and took the clasp from atop my mirror. The design was one of running horses, with blue sapphire eyes shining against silver and gold. A gift from Faramir, the Lord Steward of Gondor, upon my leaving Minas Tirith. It was he who I missed so much, he who occupied many of my thoughts through these dreary days. I fastened the clasp in my hair, hands shaking. So long as I wore, I could pretend that he was still near me.

"Éowyn! Éowyn!"

I turned, my hand still lingering on the clip. "Éomer? What is it? Come in, I'm dressed."

My brother burst into the room, panting as he leaned on his knees. I hid a smile. He had let himself get out of shape.

"Éowyn," he managed at last, "we have been honored! My lord Aragorn, the High King of Gondor, is coming to visit us."

My mouth dropped open, but not for the reason you think. Once that name would have struck pangs in my heart, but not now. Thoughts of Faramir had overwhelmed thoughts of Aragorn. I cared for him now only as a dear brother. A good thing, too, as he was now wedded to Arwen Evenstar, an elven lady of great beauty and quiet strength. She and I had become friends in our visit, and wrote each other occasionally. I could not think how she had failed to mention this. "When?"

"Even now they are riding up the hill," Éomer said, straightening up. "You must come, sister. The Golden Hall will not give a hospitable welcome without you."

I smiled. "Dear brother, you must make yourself ready. The Golden Hall's welcome will most certainly be incomplete without you."

He laughed. "Well, since you have been warned, I will go get ready myself. Pick something nice, Éowyn. My lord brings his lady and the Lord Faramir with him." Éomer kissed my forehead and left, missing my look of stunned surprise. Faramir was coming?

I turned to my warderobe and searched frantically for my white gown. I was the White Lady of Rohan...well, let me be seen as such. It was no accident that my white gown was also the most flattering. I wished to look my best for Faramir.