Disclaimer: I don't own them; I only borrow them for a time in order to
bend them to my infinitely cruel and twisted, malicious will. Alas, dear
Professor, forgive me!
It was the deep of night in the middle of summer, and within the walls of Minas Tirith, numerous pleased citizens slept off the effects of the day's merriments. The city had been bustling anew with activity in preparation for the nuptials of their Steward and the Lady Éowyn of Rohan. The day was especially significant for the King and Queen, due to their blossoming relationship with the couple. In fact, the Lady Arwen herself had been writing regularly to Éowyn since the courageous heroine of Pelennor Fields had departed for Rohan with her brother, Éomer; and it was certainly well- known that King Elessar loved Faramir as his own brother and that the feeling was mutual for the Prince of Ithilien. Indeed, since the War of the Ring was won, the people of Gondor had begun to learn of the great deeds their Steward had accomplished, and an immense pride had swelled within them.
Yet, Faramir had remained as modest and coy as he always had been, and was ever reproachful of excessive praise directed towards him. It was the shy dignity that most endeared him to those he knew.
Éowyn smiled and curled beside her sleeping husband as tightly as she could. All about her, the room was still, and its quiet peace seemed to be seeping into every inch of her bones. Many times in her life she had seen happy days, though not so long ago they were difficult to recall. Nevertheless, those days had now passed, a new life awaited her that would be full of cherished memories, and she was quite certain that the cause of the vast majority of those would be Faramir.
She sighed aloud as she thought of him. He could be so sweet and kind that if it were possible, she felt her heart would burst within her chest. He had a way with her that none other before him ever acquired. It seemed that his tender, piercing eyes could gaze into the deepest recesses of her soul, and could discern every concern and desire within. His touch was as silk against her body and even the thought of his hands upon her skin caused goose bumps to appear. However, the most wondrous aspect of Faramir, Éowyn concluded, was his heart. For no man who walked upon the shores of Arda possessed a heart likened to Faramir's. It held within it strength as great as any warrior and a gentleness that could cause the most callous, hardened spirit to soften. That same sensitive heart had saved her from the Darkness in the days following the departure of the King to Mordor. Faramir had shown her greater love than she had ever fathomed could exist in a person, and his wisdom, honesty, and compassion had broken the coldness that had so desperately clung to her heart.
When looking back to that time, it now seemed as if she was a completely different person - completely different, and yet the same. It never ceased to amaze her how much change had occurred in her since those melancholy days in the Houses of Healing, where she first met the man who now lay beside her. He had been an incredibly bright light to her in what was one of the most impossibly difficult times of her life. What the hands of a King could not heal, the love of Faramir, Captain of the Ithilian Rangers, had mended.
Gently brushing her fingers along his bare chest, Éowyn sighed, and it did not escape her mind at how sad he, too, had been at that time. For all of his life, Faramir had borne a weight upon his shoulders that would have crushed any lesser a man. She knew that even though she had been the one who had slain the great Captain of the Nazgûl, humble, reserved Faramir was all the greater. Therefore as she was loved and held dear in the hearts of many, he had suffered cruelty at the hand of his father and had never been held in high esteem by those who mattered most.
It was true that she had heard the rumblings and rumors that had spread throughout the city since the Steward Denethor had burned himself upon his pyre, though never did she truly believe them true until she saw him that day in the Houses. His eyes had ever borne the heaviness of memory, and upon each mention of his father's name, Faramir seemed to flinch as if struck. It bewildered Éowyn that the sweet and gentle man who was now her husband, was never truly appreciated for the wonderful person he was. Instead, he constantly faced comparison to his older brother, Boromir, and was demeaned and neglected by his father. How could it be that a father could not love a son so devoted, as was Faramir?
Éowyn felt tears stinging her eyes and a great rage flamed within her. It was not right that he had been so poorly treated, and if it took every breath within her slender frame, she would see that all the damage done him by his father was properly mended. That was now her conflict, the ultimate test of her heart's merit. It would be no longer that she would bear herself into the fire and chaos of combat. Instead, tenderness and affection for her husband would be her sharpened blade, and her buckler would be the unceasing love for him that threatened at times to devour her entirely.
"My sweet, beautiful Faramir," Éowyn whispered gently, stroking his stubbled cheek. "I will hold your heart within my own hands as if it were the most precious gem upon the earth, even as one of the Silmarils of old. I will give unto you children to soothe your long-burdened injuries, and I will kiss you and love you until even the most accursed of memories has fled from your mind. This do I, Éowyn, sister-daughter to Théoden, 17th King of the Rohirrim and sister to Éomer, First King of the Second Line, pledge to you."
A shaky breath escaped her lips, and at that moment, Éowyn felt on the verge of tears and choked back a sob that threatened to escape her throat. It tore at her to think of Faramir being so mistreated, and if it were in her power, she would have moved the stars in the sky just to ensure that the joy she had seen in him at their wedding remained.
He had been so happy and it had delighted her heart to see him so. Yet, before she had departed with Éomer for Rohan after the wedding of the King, she had seen in Faramir a glimpse of the old sadness lingering within him. At the time, she had been bearing her standard of pride at full mast, and had not dared show how her heart cried out in agony that some of that old pain remained. When they had said their goodbyes and she was at last left alone, with the exception of the Queen, Éowyn cried openly at his state. Arwen, for the good in her heart, had pledged that she and Aragorn would keep close watch over Faramir and that they would notify her if anything seemed amiss with him.
Nothing in the whole of the world held more importance to her than the well being of her husband; and that sentiment, which once upon a time would have seemed foreign, found home in her heart. It seemed that Éowyn, Shield- maiden of the Mark, had a heart swelled unto overflowing with love and she poured onto Faramir all that it contained. Though, there were some areas of life in which her aggressive nature were of infinite usefulness.
A wicked smile formed upon her face as she remembered the conversation they had shared ere one hour ago, which had followed the fieriest session of lovemaking in which they had engaged during the long night.
"One of these days, you shall be the death of me," he had panted fiercely, and yet a smile had lurked upon his handsome features. "Although, I could hope for no better end."
Éowyn had grinned ear to ear as she collapsed onto the bed beside him and attempted to catch her breath; then she sighed and turned to him, answering, "Nor could I, my love. I believe that I could live and die within the warmth of your embrace."
Faramir's face then softened, and he smiled delicately at his beautiful wife. "You are a remarkable woman, Éowyn of Rohan, and I shall never understand how one such as myself ever came to deserve your fancy."
Éowyn's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets at his words. "'One such as myself?'" she echoed, scoffing at the thought. "Do you truly believe yourself to be unworthy of my love, Faramir?"
Unable to voice his answer, he simply gazed at her. As he did, the sadness and uncertainty that he had exhibited in the Houses of Healing and then the day she had departed the White City returned to his eyes. It seemed as if his very soul was weeping from within, and Éowyn felt as if her heart was being torn from her chest. Tears stung her eyes and as she returned his gaze, she allowed them to fall freely. She then took his face between her hands and gently brushed her thumb under his eye.
"Hear me now, Faramir, son of Denethor - my husband and beloved," she said, her voice firm, yet full of compassion. "No man in this wide realm could ever be judged more worthy of this woman's love than thee, neither could be found one as admirable as you even in my brother's house. For you are honorable, brave, kind, tenderhearted, and gentle beyond the capacity of understanding, though it may be that in all your life you have never seen any of these things returned unto you. And yet, I say to thee, I shall return them all in full."
Éowyn watched closely as his brow tightened, her heart broke to see tears welling up in his eyes, and his chin then began to tremble. Ever so gently, she maneuvered herself underneath him, and rested his face against her breast as if he were a child; and she did kiss the top of his head and stroke his hair as he wept against her.
"O, my darling husband!" she cried out. "Who has wounded you so grievously that you now shed these tears upon our bed, which is made of love?"
Some time later, he had recounted in full a number of tragic stories from his childhood, and told her of his father's abuse and neglect. After hearing his tale, she had vowed to him that for every foul word his father had ever spoken to him, she would utter tenfold of love and devotion; and as she cradled him in her arms, she whispered sweet nothings into his ear, and he soon fell into slumber. Only then did Éowyn allow herself to cry.
After her senses had returned to her, she had laid him beside her, and had taken great care not to awaken him. Thus, it was that she found herself now watching over him, and after many minutes had passed, Éowyn laid her head down beside that of her husband, and whispered a prayer to the Valar on his behalf as she fell into sleep.
A/N - This is the first piece of work I have published on this particular genre/subject, and it was written in haste, so I will welcome all helpful suggestions/comments. Review liberally and at your discretion! More may follow.
It was the deep of night in the middle of summer, and within the walls of Minas Tirith, numerous pleased citizens slept off the effects of the day's merriments. The city had been bustling anew with activity in preparation for the nuptials of their Steward and the Lady Éowyn of Rohan. The day was especially significant for the King and Queen, due to their blossoming relationship with the couple. In fact, the Lady Arwen herself had been writing regularly to Éowyn since the courageous heroine of Pelennor Fields had departed for Rohan with her brother, Éomer; and it was certainly well- known that King Elessar loved Faramir as his own brother and that the feeling was mutual for the Prince of Ithilien. Indeed, since the War of the Ring was won, the people of Gondor had begun to learn of the great deeds their Steward had accomplished, and an immense pride had swelled within them.
Yet, Faramir had remained as modest and coy as he always had been, and was ever reproachful of excessive praise directed towards him. It was the shy dignity that most endeared him to those he knew.
Éowyn smiled and curled beside her sleeping husband as tightly as she could. All about her, the room was still, and its quiet peace seemed to be seeping into every inch of her bones. Many times in her life she had seen happy days, though not so long ago they were difficult to recall. Nevertheless, those days had now passed, a new life awaited her that would be full of cherished memories, and she was quite certain that the cause of the vast majority of those would be Faramir.
She sighed aloud as she thought of him. He could be so sweet and kind that if it were possible, she felt her heart would burst within her chest. He had a way with her that none other before him ever acquired. It seemed that his tender, piercing eyes could gaze into the deepest recesses of her soul, and could discern every concern and desire within. His touch was as silk against her body and even the thought of his hands upon her skin caused goose bumps to appear. However, the most wondrous aspect of Faramir, Éowyn concluded, was his heart. For no man who walked upon the shores of Arda possessed a heart likened to Faramir's. It held within it strength as great as any warrior and a gentleness that could cause the most callous, hardened spirit to soften. That same sensitive heart had saved her from the Darkness in the days following the departure of the King to Mordor. Faramir had shown her greater love than she had ever fathomed could exist in a person, and his wisdom, honesty, and compassion had broken the coldness that had so desperately clung to her heart.
When looking back to that time, it now seemed as if she was a completely different person - completely different, and yet the same. It never ceased to amaze her how much change had occurred in her since those melancholy days in the Houses of Healing, where she first met the man who now lay beside her. He had been an incredibly bright light to her in what was one of the most impossibly difficult times of her life. What the hands of a King could not heal, the love of Faramir, Captain of the Ithilian Rangers, had mended.
Gently brushing her fingers along his bare chest, Éowyn sighed, and it did not escape her mind at how sad he, too, had been at that time. For all of his life, Faramir had borne a weight upon his shoulders that would have crushed any lesser a man. She knew that even though she had been the one who had slain the great Captain of the Nazgûl, humble, reserved Faramir was all the greater. Therefore as she was loved and held dear in the hearts of many, he had suffered cruelty at the hand of his father and had never been held in high esteem by those who mattered most.
It was true that she had heard the rumblings and rumors that had spread throughout the city since the Steward Denethor had burned himself upon his pyre, though never did she truly believe them true until she saw him that day in the Houses. His eyes had ever borne the heaviness of memory, and upon each mention of his father's name, Faramir seemed to flinch as if struck. It bewildered Éowyn that the sweet and gentle man who was now her husband, was never truly appreciated for the wonderful person he was. Instead, he constantly faced comparison to his older brother, Boromir, and was demeaned and neglected by his father. How could it be that a father could not love a son so devoted, as was Faramir?
Éowyn felt tears stinging her eyes and a great rage flamed within her. It was not right that he had been so poorly treated, and if it took every breath within her slender frame, she would see that all the damage done him by his father was properly mended. That was now her conflict, the ultimate test of her heart's merit. It would be no longer that she would bear herself into the fire and chaos of combat. Instead, tenderness and affection for her husband would be her sharpened blade, and her buckler would be the unceasing love for him that threatened at times to devour her entirely.
"My sweet, beautiful Faramir," Éowyn whispered gently, stroking his stubbled cheek. "I will hold your heart within my own hands as if it were the most precious gem upon the earth, even as one of the Silmarils of old. I will give unto you children to soothe your long-burdened injuries, and I will kiss you and love you until even the most accursed of memories has fled from your mind. This do I, Éowyn, sister-daughter to Théoden, 17th King of the Rohirrim and sister to Éomer, First King of the Second Line, pledge to you."
A shaky breath escaped her lips, and at that moment, Éowyn felt on the verge of tears and choked back a sob that threatened to escape her throat. It tore at her to think of Faramir being so mistreated, and if it were in her power, she would have moved the stars in the sky just to ensure that the joy she had seen in him at their wedding remained.
He had been so happy and it had delighted her heart to see him so. Yet, before she had departed with Éomer for Rohan after the wedding of the King, she had seen in Faramir a glimpse of the old sadness lingering within him. At the time, she had been bearing her standard of pride at full mast, and had not dared show how her heart cried out in agony that some of that old pain remained. When they had said their goodbyes and she was at last left alone, with the exception of the Queen, Éowyn cried openly at his state. Arwen, for the good in her heart, had pledged that she and Aragorn would keep close watch over Faramir and that they would notify her if anything seemed amiss with him.
Nothing in the whole of the world held more importance to her than the well being of her husband; and that sentiment, which once upon a time would have seemed foreign, found home in her heart. It seemed that Éowyn, Shield- maiden of the Mark, had a heart swelled unto overflowing with love and she poured onto Faramir all that it contained. Though, there were some areas of life in which her aggressive nature were of infinite usefulness.
A wicked smile formed upon her face as she remembered the conversation they had shared ere one hour ago, which had followed the fieriest session of lovemaking in which they had engaged during the long night.
"One of these days, you shall be the death of me," he had panted fiercely, and yet a smile had lurked upon his handsome features. "Although, I could hope for no better end."
Éowyn had grinned ear to ear as she collapsed onto the bed beside him and attempted to catch her breath; then she sighed and turned to him, answering, "Nor could I, my love. I believe that I could live and die within the warmth of your embrace."
Faramir's face then softened, and he smiled delicately at his beautiful wife. "You are a remarkable woman, Éowyn of Rohan, and I shall never understand how one such as myself ever came to deserve your fancy."
Éowyn's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets at his words. "'One such as myself?'" she echoed, scoffing at the thought. "Do you truly believe yourself to be unworthy of my love, Faramir?"
Unable to voice his answer, he simply gazed at her. As he did, the sadness and uncertainty that he had exhibited in the Houses of Healing and then the day she had departed the White City returned to his eyes. It seemed as if his very soul was weeping from within, and Éowyn felt as if her heart was being torn from her chest. Tears stung her eyes and as she returned his gaze, she allowed them to fall freely. She then took his face between her hands and gently brushed her thumb under his eye.
"Hear me now, Faramir, son of Denethor - my husband and beloved," she said, her voice firm, yet full of compassion. "No man in this wide realm could ever be judged more worthy of this woman's love than thee, neither could be found one as admirable as you even in my brother's house. For you are honorable, brave, kind, tenderhearted, and gentle beyond the capacity of understanding, though it may be that in all your life you have never seen any of these things returned unto you. And yet, I say to thee, I shall return them all in full."
Éowyn watched closely as his brow tightened, her heart broke to see tears welling up in his eyes, and his chin then began to tremble. Ever so gently, she maneuvered herself underneath him, and rested his face against her breast as if he were a child; and she did kiss the top of his head and stroke his hair as he wept against her.
"O, my darling husband!" she cried out. "Who has wounded you so grievously that you now shed these tears upon our bed, which is made of love?"
Some time later, he had recounted in full a number of tragic stories from his childhood, and told her of his father's abuse and neglect. After hearing his tale, she had vowed to him that for every foul word his father had ever spoken to him, she would utter tenfold of love and devotion; and as she cradled him in her arms, she whispered sweet nothings into his ear, and he soon fell into slumber. Only then did Éowyn allow herself to cry.
After her senses had returned to her, she had laid him beside her, and had taken great care not to awaken him. Thus, it was that she found herself now watching over him, and after many minutes had passed, Éowyn laid her head down beside that of her husband, and whispered a prayer to the Valar on his behalf as she fell into sleep.
A/N - This is the first piece of work I have published on this particular genre/subject, and it was written in haste, so I will welcome all helpful suggestions/comments. Review liberally and at your discretion! More may follow.