Friendship. It was perhaps something she had needed, Eowyn thought. She had begun to look forward to their chess games late at night, when the rest of the household had gone to bed. She often wrapped herself in the star-covered cloak he had given her, and there was something in Faramir's eyes that softened whenever he saw her bundled up in it. There was a part of her that was (traitorously) beginning to want him to look at her like that more often.

They had continued their forbidden expeditions into the great outdoors, although Eowyn was certain Ioreth was merely pretending to not know. Merry and Pippin no longer even bothered with the decoy nonsense. Rivendell itself seemed to have grown quieter as winter approached, the last of the brittle brown leaves coating the winding gardens. The stillness felt better to her, somehow, as though the icy chill finally matched what she had long felt inside.

Except stubbornly, obstinately, frustratingly she felt something softening inside herself. She was laughing again – not every day but more often – and when she did Faramir's face showed such delight she only wanted to laugh more. He spoke of his father in the quiet of the night, and she merely listened. She occasionally dared to speak of the Worm and how his presence had haunted her life for years, and yet she found she was sleeping better than she could ever remember. One night, embarrassingly, she had drifted off as they sat in silence before the crackling flames. She awoke to find herself covered in the starry cloak and an additional blanket that she was almost certain belonged to Faramir.

Despite the winter that grew outside and her own winter that remained stubbornly lodged in her heart, something green was growing inside. She did not know what to make of it, this warm glow like the summer sun when she listened to him ramble about his latest book. Ever since he had accidentally brushed against her face, she found herself wondering if perhaps she might imagine something more, but the bounds of propriety demanded proper distance between the two of them. But she strictly reminded herself that despite everyone's clear intentions for the two of them, they would probably never be anything but friends. After all, she did not want to ruin a good thing. (Traitorously, the growing thing in her heart whispered that she would certainly not be ruining it. This was getting harder to ignore.)

"Perhaps by spring I shall let you out of my care," Ioreth announced one brisk November morning, pulling back the curtains with fierce vigor and letting the crisp autumn light spill onto the floor. "We must get you through the holidays, and then we shall see."

Eowyn groaned audibly at this. "I have not celebrated any winter holidays in a long time."

Ioreth snorted. "I shall have you kissed beneath the mistletoe or else I'll eat my own hat!" she threatened.

Eowyn could not resist a smile at this. "Then you had better not get attached to any hats."

Ioreth wagged her finger. "Everyone with an ounce of sense can tell the two of you are lovestruck. You mope around each other all the time."

Eowyn sat up in bed, scowling. "We are not moping at each other."

Ioreth smirked at this. "So you argue that, but not the fact that you are lovestruck?"

Grumbling, Eowyn grabbed up her dressing gown and bustled out of the room before her face burst into flames.

"Eowyn!"

She glanced up sharply as she heard Arwen's clear voice ringing down the hall. Spending most of her time as the new lady of Minas Tirith, Arwen visited as often as she could – something which both her father and Eowyn greatly appreciated. Eowyn allowed her friend to sweep her into a warm embrace.

"You seem much better," Arwen said approvingly, clasping Eowyn's face in her hands. "Ioreth and my father are treating you well, I take it?"

"And Lord Gandalf adds his input when he's not feeling terribly grumpy," Eowyn replied, laughing. "You must excuse my poor dress."

"Nonsense. You are still an invalid." Arwen inspected Eowyn's hands carefully, turning them over. The bandages had been gone for weeks, although the scars still crisscrossed her skin where the poison had burned into her. "They are healing?" she asked gently.

"As best as can be expected," Eowyn replied hesitantly, slightly pulling her hands away. "I will wear gloves once I am back in polite society." She tucked them inside the pockets of her dressing gown.

Arwen frowned slightly at this. "Those hands saved my life, my dear. I am not ashamed of them, nor should you be."

"They are my battle scars, I suppose." Eowyn tried to force a smile, feeling as though ice crept back into her heart as she spoke.

Arwen only hummed thoughtfully at this, tucking her arm through Eowyn's. "We must take a turn around the gardens. I have not been here for weeks, and the stories I hear from the visitors here are far from trustworthy. Young Master Pippin claims the two of you are engaged." She quirked an eyebrow at this, barely resisting a smirk as Eowyn burst into laughter.

"I am most certainly not engaged to Pippin!" Eowyn insisted. "Whatever poor maiden marries that rapscallion will need a will of iron stronger than mine, I fear."

"No, no, you misunderstand me. You and Lord Faramir." Arwen turned them down another long hall, out into the gardens. Eowyn shivered at the chill air.

"We are friends," Eowyn said in her best diplomatic tones.

Arwen stopped her. "Really, Eowyn, I have never seen anyone so committed to stubbornness as the two of you. I simply do not understand it. It would be much simpler if you admitted you cared for him, you know."

Despite the color flaming on her cheeks, Eowyn could not resist a teasing grin. "And where is the fun in that?"

Arwen smiled softly. "You are getting better, my dear."

Through the gardens, Eowyn noticed that two men wandered side by side. Aragorn strode quietly, as if he could blend into the trees at any moment. Faramir appeared just as quiet, although as they drew closer Eowyn could hear them converse in hushed tones. Aragorn smiled slightly at the younger man, but she glanced away. She had not encountered Arwen's new husband since the incident, and she felt like fleeing into the house again.

"Lady Eowyn," Aragorn said kindly, bowing to her. "I thank you for your valor, courage, and quick thinking in saving my beloved's life." As he rose from the bow, his eye caught Arwen's and the two shared a gentle smile. Eowyn's stomach churned at the sight.

"Lord Aragorn," she replied. But she found, to her surprise, that where once she might have felt the desire to win his attention and regard, she only found a quiet friendship. She smiled hesitantly. "I hope you are doing well."

He nodded. "Better than I have ever been." He reached out, clasping Arwen's hand in his before turning to Faramir. "I was speaking with our mutual friend here. He says you seem much improved."

Eowyn arched an eyebrow at Faramir. "Does he?"

"I told him that you have scarcely borne my company, but that despite my presence you are healing," Faramir replied teasingly.

"No, my lord Aragorn," Eowyn replied, hiding a smile, "I fear that Faramir has rather underplayed his part here. In fact, he seems intent on dragging me to full health and vigor once more."

Aragorn and Arwen nodded approvingly at this, but Eowyn could not tear her eyes away from Faramir's face. "And as for my part," he spoke, "I could not ask for a better companion during my imprisonment, although I do wish she might stop beating me so soundly at chess."

He winked at her.

Arwen was saying something, but Eowyn found her brain and face buzzing with such heat and static that she could not comprehend the conversation. He had winked at her? Winked? At her?

A slight pink colored his face as she realized she was essentially gaping at him, but the slight smile on his face did not appear to relay any regret for the action, but rather a curious confusion at her apparently befuddled face. For all Eowyn could have cared, Aragorn and Arwen might have been locked in a passionate embrace, but her traitorous heart was hurtling towards dangerous conclusions at the moment so that she couldn't find it within herself to particularly care what the other two were doing.

"And how does the ill-hidden attempts at breaking free from Rivendell fare?" Arwen's teasing voice broke through Eowyn's tumultuous thoughts. Eowyn blinked for a moment, trying to reorient herself.

"It fares well," she heard herself reply. He was still smirking at her, and she realized rather belatedly why he was friends with Pippin. Aragorn was staring between the two of them, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I have a good companion and a pile of excellent books to help me weather the long days of our imprisonment," Faramir replied easily, as though he hadn't just been blatantly winking at her in polite company. Eowyn was suddenly grateful for the cold air, as she could blame her blushing face on that.

"About that," Arwen continued, clapping her hands briskly, "I thought the two of you invalids, and of course your uncle, dear Eowyn, if he would like, might like to join us for a picnic."

"In late November?" Faramir asked doubtfully. One part of Eowyn felt grateful his smirking gaze was no longer on her, while the traitorous part was very much wanting to see him wink at her again. She stared intently at a fallen leaf on the ground, crushing it a few times beneath her foot for good measure.

"The brisk fresh air will do you both good!" Arwen replied in her best, most charming voice. "And besides, I am sure the two of you long for an escape from my childhood home. Come to Minas Tirith for the day, and we will go for a ride and perhaps go ice-skating, if weather permits."

"I suppose I could be convinced," Eowyn said eagerly, "if you promise to let me ride my horse."

"My dear, this excursion was planned for you." Arwen patted her hands. "But goodness, you are feeling like ice. We must get you back inside."

Eowyn felt far too fussed over as the three of them escorted her back, and Arwen was smiling like the cat that caught the canary. "Your face, my dear, is a brilliant shade of red," Arwen whispered as she ushered Eowyn back inside. The men trailed behind them, discussing the details of the picnic excursion.

"And that is any of your business how?" Eowyn replied obstinately.

Arwen shrugged slightly. "One never knows what might happen on a picnic."

"Usually you eat food."

"Or," Arwen replied, "one might have to huddle for warmth."

Eowyn glared at her friend. "For all your graceful charms, I am utterly convinced you are wicked."

"Not wicked," Arwen corrected gently, winding her arm through Aragorn's as she beamed up at him. "I just know how to get what I want."

It was decided that the invalids would be released from their imprisonment for the next few days to travel to Minas Tirith and engage in the wintry festivities. Arwen promised ice-skating and perhaps even sledding if Gandalf's dire predictions about a snowstorm came true. Ioreth made a fuss about letting the "sickly children" out of her care but managed to wheedle Gandalf into promising to visit Minas Tirith with them, which sent the old man sulking into the corner for the rest of the night and harrumphing loudly over his pipe.

"We shall see you tomorrow!" Arwen said brightly, clasping Eowyn's hands in hers one last time and providing a kiss to each cheek. She glanced at the starry cloak wrapped around Eowyn's shoulders and offered a conspiratorial smile. "Do not forget your cloak, my dear."