25th March
The joyous cries of the eagles proclaiming the destruction of the one ring and victory over Sauron also brought news of the fallen. This brought about a cry of anguish from the Houses of Healing. The scream was of the most heartfelt woe. Yet a month ago her family numbered three men and her. The first to fall, by an Uruk's sword, had been her cousin. Then her uncle, the slayer of the cream of Haradrim cavalry had his body destroyed by the treachery of his own horse. And now her brother, king for but ten days, has fallen. Eowyn howled her pain to the sky like a lonely wolf on the steppes of the Wold.
Such blows could have broken any man or women. But Eowyn Eomundsdottir had first been tempered in a pool of soul destroying poison at Meduselde and then forged in the fires of the Battle of Pellenor Fields. She was the Wraithsbane and naught would break her spirit.
The week since she regained consciousness after the Wraiths Black Breath had been cured by the Hands of the King had been gloomy. She was unhappy she had not found death on the battlefield, she was ashamed of having sought glorious death on the battlefield instead of on the threshold of her home with other women, she was unhappy that her broken arm kept her from riding to death and ruin, she was ashamed she had deserted her post of Regent assigned to her by her uncle, the King. If news of defeat at the Black Gates had come she would have cast herself from the walls of the House of Healing as not to be witness the triumph of the Enemy. The little solace , as she was not capable of cheer, she had during the waiting came from the soft spoken dark haired man.
After crying our her pain and with eyes dried she knew what she to do. She was the last of the House of Eorl. There was only one path for her now. She went to the Rohirrim section of the Houses of Healing where she was greeted with the joy the victory and her new station merited yet subdued by the sadness over the new king's death. Escorted by some walking wounded she left the houses of healing for the barracks where hale Riders were stationed. She was warmly received there as well and the men rode out with dispatches at her bidding.
In the evening she continued planning. She needed a husband. Fast. She worried that if the lords of the realm got their act together they could quickly force her to marry somebody of THEIR choosing. For bad or good the war gave her several months respite – some lords were dead, some were wounded. The new generation stepping up to replace the fallen was a mixed bunch, as some heirs also fell to orc or Evil men blade or arrow. That led to part of new heads of magnate families being thrust into their new roles without any preparation, with the prepared ones simply being inexperienced. And the clash at Morannon probably brought about even further turmoil to domestic power arrangements, the Quuen of the Mark pondered. She expected a year to pass before the dust settled, with the new leaders of noble families growing into their new responsibilities, with marriages being arranged to renew old and create new alliances. Nonetheless this did not change the fact that she was in need of a husband.
She pondered the idea of a domestic candidate. Besides the obvious benefits of a consort knowing the land and customs, this had its downsides. A Rohirr would probably expect her to behave like any Eorling wife – depending on the specimen she'd be landed with she could have a weaker or stronger struggle on her hands to keep the ruling to herself and not have it taken away from her. She shuddered at the thought of some sort of Grima II, of being made a prisoner of Meduseld again. A domestic candidate would have the side effect of elevating his family or clan to semi-royalty status – to the envy, maybe even hatred of other magnates. A possible cause of discontent and maybe even strife. She could pick someone from one of the two strongest clans – those headed by Erkenbrand and Elfhelm, but that would doubtlessly rob her of her independence. Either of the two was close in power to the Royal clan anyway - and combined with her's either of the two could ride roughshod over all the rest. Unless the others united ... she sighed ... another potential for strife...
She decided to examine foreign prospects. Contacts over the White Mountains were not particularly frequent, with each of the two kingdoms keeping mostly to its own affairs. Nevertheless the aristocracy of one had some knowledge of the other. The "who is who" included information of eligible sons and nubile daughters. So she knew who to look for, especially that she had grilled Boromir on unmarried men of appropriate standing when he had passed through Edoras almost a year ago. Which seemed an Age ago. Supposedly there had been feelers from Minas Tirith with intentions of marrying her to Boromir, but Grima had quickly put a stop to that. No matter ...
... Aragorn. She felt some teenager flutters and strangled them immediately. She needed a consort not vapourware and dreams. And from her point of view he was already taken - by the throne of Gondor. Going down by nobility ranking the next bachelor was the soft spoken brunet, Faramir. Hmmm ... Failing him she could have the pick of Prince Imrahil's sons, the ones with the enee-meenee-no non pronounceable names. Maybe the Prince himself? A fine looking widower he was ...
Faramir ... hmmm. She quite liked what she saw in Faramir. Easy on the eyes, respectful of her and almost certainly with some affection for her. With time maybe she could love him. But enough about herself, what could the Denenthorsson give the Mark? He had the administration skills she had not, was a capable warrior and an excellent leader of men. With excellent contacts throughout Gondor. Yet being an outsider in the Mark he would not, at least for the first few years, challenge her for the reins of the country. Everything Rohan needed and she could hope for.
Now the problem - would he wish to leave Gondor at all? Would Aragorn let him go? Surely he must leave, she wondered, how could he imagine serving under Aragorn if he had been bred to rule on his own? And even if Faramir – and Aragorn – would wish for such an arrangement others would not allow it to be. Because of whom he was he would always be suspected of trying to undermine Aragorn's rule – with poison whispered into both pairs of ears over the years it would destroy any trust the two could ever have had. And also was he so bereft of ambition as to happily take second seat of what could had been his to rule alone? She could give him a station where there would be no man above him, she smirked. She will deal with him tomorrow, she decided. After speaking with Elfhelm she hadd summoned from the main body of Rohirrim troops in Anorien.
26th march
They were standing on the wall, their hair interleaving in the wind. She leaned on him and pretended to shiver. He wrapped his cloak around her shoulder.
- "Faramir", she looked up to the side at him. He looked back. - "I'm the queen of Rohan. Will you marry me?"
His mouth was slightly agape and his facial expression beneath his intelligence.
- "You have many traits I admire and I believe that you'd be a good husband to me. I respect you and I hope that over time we could love one another. What says you?"
She turned to face him.
- "But ... but ... I'm to be Steward ... Minas Tirith ... "
- "Do you really think Aragorn would be happy to have you as Steward? The scion of a thousand years of independently ruling Stewards? A person everybody would always suspect to be plotting against him? Every your look, every your sneeze will always be interpreted that way. Even if he wanted it, even if you wanted it, even if you two had the purest of intentions, you two would be destroyed by the evil minds of others. Come with me to Riddermark, ride at my side."
Pretending to be cold she leaned against him again. He automatically wrapped her tighter in the material. She glanced to the side to check the situation and smiled. Faramir appeared to have a serious speech impairment and stuttered something unintelligibly.
- "Will you marry me or not?"
- "Uhm .. duty ... well ... Gondor ... yes ... "
- "Good! I'm so happy!" - she beamed at him. She could not notice that her smile had calmed him down and made him look less stunned and to show traces of ease. The softness of his look made her like him even more. She turned him away from her and towards the gardens, to face Elfhelm and several senior Riders. Faramir knew they hadn't been there when he approached her a few minutes ago. In a formal voice Elfhelm spoke:
- "Eowyn Eomundsdottir, Queen of the Mark, I see you wrapped in Faramir Denethorsson's cloak. Wishes of much happiness to you both. Prince Faramir of the Riddermark!" and dropped to his knee.
One by one the remaining Riders spoke words to the same meaning, some in Westron, some in Rohirric. And the erudite show off Wolfram in Sindarin.
Faramir again looked confused. His eyes kept on going from the kneeling Riders to Eowyn and back again. After the last had spoken he broke out of his bewilderment and hoarsely asked Eowyn:
- "What does this mean?"
She looked up at him softly and - with a twinkle in her eyes above her wind flushed cheeks - gave him a small smile and said:
- "Kiss me, husband."
And he took her in his arms and kissed her under the sunlit sky and he cared not that they stood high upon the walls in the sight of many.
After arranging details of her trip to Fields of Cormallen with Elfhelm and other officers Eowyn told the Gondorian that they need a few words in private. Although Faramir still had doubts as to the details of their situation he let himself be led into Eowyn's chambers as – with her insistence that they were husband and wife – it was no longer scandalously improper for him to be with her behind closed doors unchaperoned.
- "According to the laws and customs of the Mark we are married. I was seen wrapped in your cloak by at least three witnesses. Now we need" – here she blushed a bit and her voiced faltered – "to consummate it. This also requires three witnesses ...". Hearing his intake of air and big round eyes she gasped and brought her hands up to her face - "No, not of that! Afterwards! Of having slept together! We are to be seen under your cloak in the morning." She left the "naked" part out for now – the poor boy was scared witless anyway. Faramir was no longer hyperventilating. She eyed his expression coldly.
- "Better than your disgusting custom of waving bloodied bed sheets flown out of the window", she added venomously. Softening, she continued:
- "It is your right, as husband, to lie with me whenever you wish. However, if you want me not to hate you ..." – he began to speak but she beckoned him to stop. – "I have to say it here and now – please. If you do not want me to hate you I ask for half a year to prepare myself to lie with you. Things as they were at Meduselde make me think of ... being intimate ... with a man .. something abhorrent ... disgusting ... I need time."
Having got through the worst part of her speech Eowyn now spoke with greater ease:
- "Also I grieve for them all – Theodred, Théoden, Eomer ... the wedding must come after we bury them. The autumn equinox could be a suitable date. Hmf?"
The next day Eowyn rode for the Fields of Cromallen to speak with her husband's Sovereign, Aragorn. Before a formal meeting she sought him for private conversation at his tent.
- "You did what?"
- "I married Faramir", she said matter of factly. - "I want you to release him from the Stewardship so that he can perform his marital duties. The war has cost Rohan two kings and one prince – I ask only for one steward in return."
She continued to present her case. - "You as king and him as steward – that will never work. Too many people will work on making you two hate one another – they will fail once, ten times, a hundred times. But finally they will drive a wedge between you two and things will get nasty. It's better for you to employ one of Imrahil's sons – they've nothing to do anyway, but are well trained in governance."
- "With all due respect lady Eowyn, since when have you gained such insights into human nature?"
- "Please remember, Lord Aragorn, that I had a very good teacher of the dark side of human nature at Meduseld." - she said grimly. - "And becoming a queen also changed my perception of many things."
- "Oh, such as?"
- "You, my Good Lord Aragon. Just over two weeks ago my heart fluttered for you. I thought I was in love with you. Today I am a queen and my mind and heart sees you as king and a respected ally, yet as a man you are useless to me - you'll not marry me and rule by my side." She shrugged. – "I have to think of the Mark first, about myself second."
- "And back to issues of State - I could spare Faramir for two months or so – he could come to the Riddermark with the bodies of Théoden and Eomer after your coronation and wedding. But I need part of the Riders. Now. They are needed to defend home and hearth. Of the 3500 or so which are left, and almost a thousand other being horseless, how many can you spare to return to the Mark right now?"
After the festivities had ended on April 9th the Queen rode for Edoras with yet another portion of the Mark's forces released by Gondor. She finally had her two seniormost commanders together - Erkenbrand and Elfhelm. She preferred to elevate the two on the same day as to avoid any grounds for acrimony, human vanity being as it is. After consulting the two and mindful of the need of dispersing the forces to protect the land from bands of orcs and ill-intentioned men, she made the public announcement in front of the still assembled units. Erkenbrand was nominated the Second Marshal - customarily entrusted with defence of the Westfold, and Elfhelm the Third - again customarily assigned to the Eastfold. She decided to keep the post of First Marshall - the one in charge of the Edoras garrison and Household Troops - unfilled for the time being, herself exercising whatever authority was needed. She wished to keep the position empty until the wedding and then to confer the post onto Faramir.
Although part of the force had been released at Aldburg the main body was still present at Edoras to witness her proclamation and coronation as Eowyn Queen. The situation did not allow for any drawn out celebrations but the assumption of Sovereignity was needed as soon as possible. The Mark had to have a Monarch. The feasting, singing and dancing had to wait for the wedding. She made a short foray into the west to visit the place where Theodred died and had been buried and graced the Hornburg with Her presence to add lustre to the announcement that Erkenbrand was now Marshal and Lord of the Westmarch.
After the hectic two weeks in the Riddermark the ride to Mundburg begining on the 24th was a moment of respite. A skeleton Court had embarked for the Gondorian capital in advance - this time she'll not arrive with whatever she had on her back or saddle bags, she smirked to herself. She would have a change of clothes at the very least. And even though she would attend the coronation ceremony in warrior attire - as befitted the Wraithsbane and Monarch of the Mark - she would be able to change into a dress for the ball afterwards. She had no intention to run around all day hauling two or three dozen pounds of armour. A woman was smarter than that. But had she packed heels, she wondered idly ...
NOTE:
The marriage by cloak comes from the headcannon of ZeesMuse. It is explained in the story LOVE! Rohirrim Style in chapter XII.
This story is also influenced by Soledad.
A lovely continuation of this fic by Annafan - "There"