Éomer, sadly, is not particularly careful about clothes, even ones she's borrowed from someone else. When Eskel pushes the kirtle off her shoulders and lets it fall to the floor, she does nothing to make sure it doesn't get trodden on, focused instead on the feel of those huge hands of his caressing her with just the thin linen shift between his palms and her body.

He hefts her up into his arms and she laughs, more than happy to wrap her legs around his waist and to squeeze him between her thighs, her arms looped around his neck.

"How marvelous."