Story about the Steward of Gondor and the Shieldmaiden of Rohan, original right? I always write love stories! Hate love stories though where boy meets girl, they fall in love within the week and get married a week later, come on, be realistic! As Eowyn says, I don't believe in love at first sight, but I do believe some people are meant to be together. So I basically hated Tolkein for what he did and Peter Jackman (saying that, the film was epic in the awesome category, but still! Faramir and Eowyn share one look and BAM, they're in love? NO! It just seems so unlike their characters.) Much of this is inspired by Heather Dale's music and songs, she's incredible, hence the reason why my piece is named after one of her songs (I can literally imagine Faramir saying that sort of thing to Eowyn). But in any case (Disclaimer): I own nothing of Tolkein's, Jackman's or Dale's work, all glory be upon them. I just took some overlooked characters, hummed Dale's songs throughout and wrote this. Enjoy! Sorry for ranting. Oh, reminds me. Yes this is nothing like Tolkein's work and yes Ewoyn is telling this story. Yes I have extended the time scale, see reason above. So if you don't like the sound of that, then don't read. I realise it's not within keeping of the chronological order of the book, so you'll just have to deal with it or not bother. Lots of love, Hannah.

*Decided to update this, seeing as my stupid computer decided to spell Eowyn's name wrong and it bugged me. Going to be a few other small changes, but it is my oldest fanfic, the one with the most mistakes, so you'll have to forgive it.

As I Am

"Sister, I just think…"
"I'd just go back and end up not doing anything, I like feeling useful here."
"You could start a hospital there…"
"Without training?" I ask.
My brother sighs and grimaces, "Eowyn, just tell me this isn't for finding a man? I saw how you were with…"
My glare silences him, "No brother, I am not husband hunting. I am here to cure and comfort the sick, to learn about herbs and medicine; they're going to need as much help as possible and I want to learn something useful, aside from sword play."
He smiles softly at me and grasped my shoulder, "I'm just making sure you're not doing this just to be around Lord Aragorn, forgive a brother's safe guarding."
I smile, "I forgive you, but I'm staying. It'll just be for a few months."
He gives me a critical look, "How long is a few months, because I know it won't be two."
"Well it can't be two, it takes a lot of training to learn herb lore…"
"I intend to take my men home, so they can rest and be welcomed by their wives and children…"
"I know…" I say.
"How long then?" he grins.
"Maybe seven months…?"
"That makes your stay a whole year!"
"Look I may come back sooner, but I don't want to go back just yet…It'll remind me too much of our Uncle."
Éomer stopped speaking and looked grim, he embraced me.
"I can't come back yet." I whisper, "Otherwise the pain will never go away."
"Brave little sister." he says, and then gives me a calculating look, "Very well, you have my blessing."
I smile and hug him gladly.

I watch them leave Gondor; I shall miss my brother certainly and the battlefield outside Gondor means I will never forget what had happened there, but going home meant seeing the place where for some months I had my Uncle back, happy and confident. I can't go back now. Not now that place had become a house of celebration and warmth. I had to wait till my Uncle's ghost left my mind and heart. The people of Gondor cheered the brave riders of Rohan. I was surprised, but remembered our enmity had dissolved the moment we had appeared on the hill top, bearing the flag of Rohan, in defence of Gondor. I smiled and cheered with them, as they left through the gates. Aragorn will ensure our two kingdoms will never feel anger towards one another again.

I went back inside as soon as the last soldier had left, it felt as though I was watching my whole family abandon me, but I reminded myself firmly I had chosen this path.
Iroeth was going through a box, separated by small compartments, each holding a bottle of some sort. She was muttering furiously to herself.
"What is the matter Iroeth? Had you fallen for a brave soldier of Rohan, who now heads for home?" I laughed, she gave me a wry smile.
"If only I had, oh I wish that blasted boy would stay where I left him for five minutes!"
"Who he is? I can try to find him for you, if you like?"
"Oh no, I wouldn't bother, if he so insists in running off…"
I couldn't understand why she was being so dismissive of a little boy, "Perhaps he has gone to his mother, he may be scared."
"What, I…?" Her face looked bemused for some moments, "Oh, oh no, bless you child. No, the boy I'm talking about is a grown man. Beg your pardon, m'lady."
"Please, Eowyn is fine; otherwise I'll have patients calling for the Shieldmaiden of Rohan." I laughed. "But who is this man who has irritated you so?"
"Faramir!" she gave a sigh, as though I knew why he was particularly irritating, though I was clueless. I did recognise the name of the younger son of the passed Steward.

"Is he in any danger?" I asked.
"Only from himself." she harrumphed. "Honestly, and it's not as if he has anywhere in particular to go to…I bet I know where he's gone, to the damn Inn!" she slammed the lid down on the chest and I was particularly aware of the precious glass bottles that rattled in there.
"I could try to find him…"
"No, no point, he'll only run off again. Besides, at some point he'll collapse in the street, then he'll have to stay here." she said with satisfaction. I frowned, wondering if collapsing in the street was something we should be aiming for. But at that time Iroeth called me over, to assist her with crushing herbs.
"My hands ache something rotten after this." she said, and on seeing my expression, "Oh he'll be fine, but he won't be when he gets here." she muttered furiously, bashing the herbs with such force I was unsurprised that her hands would ache…I was, however, surprised the bowl didn't break.

As I carried out the instructions of Iroeth I couldn't help wondering about Faramir, I wondered why he wanted to run away if he was ill or injured, I wondered what he was like…perhaps he was arrogant or impatient, perhaps that's why he didn't want our help. But the Houses of Healing were some of the best in the land, there would be no better healers than those here… I shook my head and although I badgered Iroeth with questions, she gave me single word answers or told me to look to what I was doing. I gave up in the end, continuing with cleaning the hospital and helping Iroeth look after the wounded. I longed to be in the garden though, the sweet smell of herbs wafting through the rooms and the green grass looking so fresh and beautiful against the cold, white walls of Gondor. I got my chance when Iroeth sent me to collect more fresh herbs to dry in the store room.

I was in the store room, when Iroeth came bursting in, her chest heaving.
"Well…what did…I say?" she exclaimed, when she had caught back her breath.
I wasn't sure, but she hurried on before I could answer, "Faramir…in the street…"
"He collapsed?" I asked, I still found her satisfaction strange.
"Aye, oh don't worry girl, he's got a slight fever. But come on now, finish that and then come with me…!"
"I thought after this you wanted me to…"
"Oh never mind that, it'll be good for you to deal with men who are unwell. I suppose you haven't had much experience with the male body? The Shieldmadam of Rohan certainly doesn't sound as good." She gave me a wink, and though I tried to laugh, I couldn't help going a little pink at the thought…it seemed strange, I was accustomed to the violence and bloodshed of war, but the idea of something so personal unnerved me. She took my hand.
"Now don't you worry a bit. I'll dress his wounds and show you what I'm doing, while you can try to keep his fever down."

So collecting dried peppermint, a bowl and a jug of water I obediently followed Iroeth upstairs towards one of the private rooms. The hospital was in more order now, since some of the men had recovered and left. Iroeth opened the door onto a bright lit room, sparsely furnished, but with a comfortable bed and chest off to one side, a table on the other. On the bed lay a man, his brown hair lay stuck to his forehead and he frowned as his fever made his skin prickly. I put the jug and bowl on the table, crushed the peppermint in the mortar and added it to the bowl, pouring over the water. I got out a cloth from the chest, as Iroeth expertly removed his shirt and expected his wounds.
"Come here, Eowyn."
I went over, with my bowl and cloth, she showed me a wound. I grimaced a little, but she gave a small smile,
"It's not too bad, not deep and I have cleaned it, but it needs bandaging. I'll get some more herbs and dressing, you can stay here and bathe him."
"I could go and get those." I offered.
"Ah! No, you'll need to get used this, don't worry I was just the same. When we had soldiers coming in and out and I was young, I must've been redder than a rose!" she laughed, then got up and left the room.

I washed his face, my eyes traveling over his forehead and cheeks, noting the soft stubble on his chin as my hand brushed past. I shook myself, now was not the time. His expression seemed to relax as his brow cooled. I had not allowed myself to look at his naked chest, but I now peeped down, bringing my eyes immediately back up. 'Oh come now, Eowyn, this is silly.' I muttered to myself, 'You've seen soldiers' chests before.' Not this close up, my mind screamed. But I regained my sense and just imagined I was cleaning Windfola, as I washed his arms and chest. Still my mind was racing; I couldn't help but become fascinated by every pane and angle of his chest and looking up at his face I thought he looked…sensible, almost, not one to flee a hospital for any arrogant or impatient reason.
"Why are you running away, Faramir?" I said, mostly to myself.
"Because I'm not that badly injured."

I jumped up with surprise, the bowl smashed on the floor, water dampening my dress.
"I…sorry…" I began, my face flushed with embarrassment, he must've come round while I was bathing him.
"No forgive me, I did not mean to scare you." he tried to get up, but winced in pain. Now his eyes were open, I could see they were a blue, grey shade in colour.
"It is fine," I knelt down to pick up the pieces of the bowl, luckily it had not broken into small shards of pottery.
"Sorry…" he muttered. I glanced up at him, I had to admit to myself that I could judge a handsome man without being in love, Faramir was handsome and there was something so deeply concerned and sad in his eyes. I looked back down, breathed evenly while picking the pieces up, calming myself.
"There is nothing to worry about, it was only a bowl, there are plenty more." I pulled out some old rags from a bucket, mopped up the spilt water. He lay back down on the pillow, he still looked anxious.

"How did you know my name?" he asked.
"Iroeth was in a bad mood, because you had left the hospital, she told me. I am honoured to meet the Captain of the Rangers." I found another bowl in the chest and filled it with the water again. I turned back towards him, seeing him scowling.
"I told her I was well."
I dipped the cloth into the water; it was somehow easier talking to him than when he was just lying there.

"That doesn't look well," I pointed to the wound near his arm pit. He twitched his mouth, as though he would disagree with me, "and fainting in the street is not something well people do either." I said. When would Iroeth get back? She was taking a while, unless she had plans of matchmaking going on in her head. I smirked slightly, yes Faramir was handsome, but I didn't fall for just a pretty face. He gave a bark of laughter, and then winced with pain again. I smiled.
"Try not to laugh."
"Well thank you for the marvellous advice, healer." He jested, smiling at me. I was too busy washing his shoulder to really smile back, but when I had done I looked up at him. It was like being burnt, his cool eyes seemed to look right through me and I quickly looked back down to my bowl.

"I am not a real healer yet…" I said.
"Well now I certainly feel secure." he said.
"I am in training." I replied, "…and if you wish for someone else, I can go."
I saw his eyes quickly dart to look at me; he clearly wished to say no.
"No, I'm sure you'll do. What's your name?"
"Eowyn…"
He instantly jolted upright, causing him to gasp and grab his side, "The White Lady of Rohan?"
"Or the Shieldmaiden of Rohan, which ever you prefer…" I turn my back to him and smirk as I place the bowl on the table. I hear him lie down on the bed again and give a low whistle, I can't help but laugh.
"Glad to hear you two getting along," says Iroeth as she finally came into the room, laden with a sweet smelling salve, bandages and possibly more herbs than was necessary. Faramir frowned when she came in, "…and that's quite enough from you, m'lord. If I say you're not going anywhere, then you're not going anywhere. This is a nasty wound if left untreated and you are just as important as any other wounded here."

He looked as if he were about to argue back, but then lent back against his pillows and gave a reluctant smile.
"I didn't realise I was so important to have 'The White Lady of Rohan' attending to me." he said, I avoided his gaze and focused on what Iroeth was saying to me, as she dressed his wound.
"Eowyn was brought here when she killed the Witch-King, defending her uncle. Her arm was broken." Iroeth said it as though I had broken my arm while baking bread! I was about to look up and say it was a little more complicated than that, when I saw her hidden smile and her eye flash me a wink.
"I am training here to be a healer, so when I go home I have a good skill and can help my own people." I said, taking a look at him, his mouth hung agape and his eyes were huge. I had to look at the plain bandages to stop myself laughing. The memory bought back the pain of losing my Uncle and the agonising feeling in my arm, but the respect in Faramir's eyes was so comical I could have burst out laughing.

"You were in battle?" he asked.
"Aye, I learnt how to sword play from a young age with my brother, Éomer. I couldn't bear being left behind, like I was normally, so I disguised myself and went with my Uncle's army."
"She fulfilled the prophesy of the Witch-King's death," said Iroeth, "'no living man may hinder me', well he wasn't counting on a woman to be there in battle, and by the sounds of it, neither were you." she said to him, I had to bite my lower lip to stop myself laughing and I hated myself for it. Why did I laugh when my Uncle had been killed? When I had almost died myself. My head was a confused mess of feelings and I loathed myself for it. Things should be simple enough, I should live in regret of my Uncle dying, he who was like a father to me. A wasted love. I had lost so many friends. Yet I could have laughed. Laughed easily and freely.

After my mind thought thus, I couldn't keep my full attention on the task at hand and I feared my confusion clouded my eyes. When I caught a glance of Faramir, he too looked worried. Iroeth bid his lordship sleep and then took me out of the room, she gave me a quick smile, but stopped when she saw my face.
"What? You liked him not?"
"No, I did. He seemed very pleasant. But talk of the Witch-King reminded me of my Uncle."
"Ah forgive me, I was not thinking." Iroeth said.
"It does not matter; many things can make me think of him. I feel wicked when I laugh and smile."
She placed a warm, rough hand on my shoulder, "Ah come now, you said yourself the King of Rohan loved you like a daughter, he would not wish any sadness upon you."
I briefly close my eyes, hiding my tears.
"Walk in the garden, I will prepare our supper in the meantime." she says. I smile and we carry our equipment through the hallways and into the large storeroom. She briefly touches my arm, smiles and then goes to her rooms to prepare our dinner.

I walk out into the beautiful gardens, the soft green of the leaves show spring is now calling and the first buds of flowers are pushing their way up through cold earth. I look out, the landscape now clear of darkness and the ever presence of Sauron, the mountains now hung pale and the sky shimmered slightly, where the haze of the volcano smoked but did not burn. I walked some way along a white path of pebbles, till I sat on a bench. Perhaps Ireoth was right, I cannot always be sad, always forever remaining in the past. I lent my head against a tree, as though it were a comforting friend. I knew if I joked and were happy that would be what my Uncle wished, but what had happened was inescapable. Was I always meant to be torn, divided between the past and the future, unable to live in the present?

"Eowyn…?"
I looked up, puzzled when seeing Faramir there. "Why are you out of bed?"
"I am fine."
I sighed, "No you're not, go back to bed. If you collapse I will not be able to lift you."
He looks unsure, wanting to obey my command and seemingly wanting to speak with me.
"What is it?" I ask.
He opens his mouth, but then his fever becomes too strong for him and he collapses. I catch him before he hits the ground, but the weight of him makes me stagger a little. I gently lay him on the ground, before running to get help.

"That boy!" fumes Iroeth.
I smile in recognition of her frustration. By the time we get there Faramir has heaved himself up and is sitting against the bench.
"I am sorry for…"
"Look, I'm going to have you swear on the King's ordained head that you will not get up, until I deem you fit to get up. Do you understand?"
"Yes Iroeth, I am sorry m'lady." he says to me.
"It is more trouble for us, than you. We cannot spend our days running around looking for you, and, as you are aware, if you do faint, our healers often do not have enough strength to lift you up." she says.
"May I suggest Faramir has a lower room, so that way if he does decide to wander we won't have to climb the stairs to put him back?" I ask.
"An excellent idea, Eowyn." Iroeth says to me, and then to Faramir, "Right, come on you." Iroeth places one of his arms around me, and although I have helped many patients like this he seems nervous. She goes to his other arm, heaves it onto her shoulders and we then walk clumsily across the lawn to one of the bedchambers.
"Keeping us from our dinner too." she mutters.

We manage to get to the room and Faramir slumps down in a chair, while I pull the bedcovers back and Iroeth unlaces his boots.
"I will have to check that dressing again, to make sure it hasn't moved." she is furious with him; he does the decent thing and remains quiet. I help him lie down on the bed, once more he looks at me with those clever grey eyes and I am suddenly fascinated with the table in the room. Iroeth quickly inspects the bandages, tightens them a little and nods when done.
"Right… if you dare move from this bed, I'll give the Shieldmaiden of Rohan a sword and she'll keep you here." she says furiously, though with something of a smile. "Right Eowyn, if this gentlemen feels he will do right and remain in his bed, you can come and have your supper."
"I will stay where I am." he promises.
"Good." Iroeth says. "We will bid you goodnight."
He assents his head, "Goodnight."

I smile at him when we leave, at the typical fury of Iroeth, his eyes light up when he sees me thus. In many ways I think he would like the Shieldmaiden of Rohan preventing him from escape, but I've had plenty of men call me pretty and praise my virtues. I had songs invented about my beauty by the time I reached fourteen. He's just another man who finds me handsome, that is all. I envy the Queen Arwen, what woman doesn't? To have a love as true and real as that makes her so lucky, not just desire or flattery.
"Come on lass, don't go too far in your mind."
I smile at Iroeth, "Forgive me, I wasn't dwelling on sad things though."
"Well that's some good," she says, then looks up at me mischievously, "Where you thinking about Lord Faramir?"
"No." I am adept at lying, a soldiers' camp taught me that.
"Oh," she looks disappointed, well I have to disappoint her; I have no desire to imagine a love when there isn't one there at all.