Three Sentence Ficathon

Éowyn hesitated at the open gates - they were unguarded, and she had tacked Snowfall up and scrambled up on his back easy enough, and guided the big gelding out this far, but perhaps. . .

A hand caught her forearm, and Éowyn gasped, eyes widening, twisting only to find-

Éomer grinned at her, sitting easily on Anryl's back - they'd have to lengthen his stirrups again soon, Éowyn thought, eyeing his gangling legs. Éowyn scowled at him in preparation to argue - she wouldn't go back, not yet - but her brother only squeezed her wrist, guiding Anryl out around Snowfall easily.

"Shall we go for a run, sister?" Éomer asked, and Éowyn beamed, clicking Snowfall on, finding her seat in a brisk trot as Anryl and Éomer fell in beside them.