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    Summary

    Sitting next to her, he says, “What are you doing out here? It’s dangerous to be so far away from everyone.”
    “Do not worry,” she says, offering a smile as assurance, “this is my land. It will protect us."
    “Will you allow me to escort you back to the tents?” he asks. “I’ve just had the fire built up, and it’s rather cold tonight. I wouldn’t want you to freeze.” His hands fidget in his lap while his gaze remains steadfast on her face, avoiding her exposed legs. She supposes he’s rarely seen the full dress of Eorlingas women, who don’t often have need to wear leather breeches and split skirts anymore.
    “Of course.”

     

    On the eve of battle, Éowyn formally, and cordially, invites Merry to her tent. Among other things.

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