A/N: Tolkien's characters. Although only tangentially related to the Den/Fin files on my profile, I've kept a similar characterization for Imrahil here. It is my bookverse series, after all.

My daughter fussed about me, trying to insure that the padded armchair was the perfect distance to the fire and my spiced wine was neither too hot nor too cool. "And don't you dare accuse me of cosseting you, Father," she said, as if reading my thoughts from the indulgent expression in my eyes. "You may be a fine horseman, but no one is used to riding with the Mark. And in such weather! Eomer, what would we have done if one of your mounts had stepped into a mud pit or slipped on an ice patch and broken its leg?"

"Walked faster," her husband replied with a light smile, kissing her cheek. "We may have been out for some time, but I held your father back to a fairly sedate pace. There were no wild gallops through the plains today."

"Good." Satisfied that I was not going to sponateniously wound myself within the next ten minutes, Lothiriel reclaimed her own seat, Eomer coming to stand behind her, leaning over her chair. Though his liegemen and brothers-in-law had informed me that this was business as usual for the king, it still pleasantly surprised me to see how closely he guarded my daughter during her pregnancy. Valar knew Lothi made it difficult, sometimes, putting her every partially developed motherly instinct into looking after us.

I couldn't resist teasing her, just a little. "We were planning on doing that tomorrow. Would you care to join us?"

"If I were to say yes, would you actually be fit enough to do so?" Much as I hated to admit to it, my daughter might have a point. I had not felt stiff or sore while I was mounted, but the armchair was very comfortable, pulling me into its sinister plush depths.

"Depends upon how much of this excellent spiced wine you supply me with." I toasted Rohan's royal couple, taking a sip. Lothi's lips tightened, and she shook her head.

"We'll have to leave some for after the birth of my child, but beyond that, you are welcome to as much as you wish," Eomer offered generously.

"Will you join me, then? No point in wasting good wine, after all." I motioned towards a spare chair and the decanter warming by the fire.

Eomer and Lothiriel exchanged glances over the top of her chair, and then my daughter's worried gaze flickered briefly back to me. Her husband put a hand on her shoulder before she could rise, and hooked the empty seat with a muddy boot, pulling it next to hers. "You know, I think I will. When it's freezing one day and raining the next like this, a nice glass is nearly as good a guard against the cold as a lovely woman." He grabbed the decanter and slouched back into the chair with a relaxed sigh. Perhaps I was not the only one to be seduced by the lazy comforts of peace.

"You will limit yourself to one," Lothi informed us.

Eomer kissed her again, a hand against her rounding belly. "Well, maybe one and a half."