[Eowyn mutters something at the ambassador's retreating back, which doesn't sound very complimentary but also isn't in a recognisable language, and turns back to Yenh with pursed lips.]

Ill manners, from a man of standing.

But I think I know it, that sense of... restlessness, as you say. I love Edoras, as myself, yet it felt so oft a prison. I have felt more at home among my brother's men than ever in its walls, would feel more at home in the thunder of hooves and the song of steel than in the gentler pleasure of the hearth.

I can scarce call such thoughts terrible, without denying myself.