Note: Written for the Summer Exchange at the LiveJournal
community "faramirexchange". Butterballer had requested an
adult-rated but non-slash fic, featuring Eomer and Faramir,
where Eomer smells like onions.  I don't recall any mention of
saunas in LOTR, but if anyone would have them, it would be the
Rohirrim since they are a northern Germanic people. The long
race exists nowhere except in my mind.  Thanks to Annmarwalk for
her helpful comments!  "Why are you so angry?" Eomer asked in
the most reasonable voice that he could muster while trying not
to laugh. Word of her wrath had traveled swiftly in the crowded
courts of Edoras, and he had found her in the kitchens, stabbing
the hapless vegetables. She wore her hair bound up in a
kerchief, as if she were already a wife, and a loose smock
covered her gown.  "I cannot believe you are making him do this,
as if he were some beardless, young Rider." The knife blade went
thunk, thunk, thunk as Eowyn slammed it on the table. Without
looking up at him, she tossed a ma