This was a request for a friend, who was so upset at being denied a kiss in the movie that she demanded I write an extra scene. Now, I'm no script-writer, but I like to think this is in the same vein as the movie, a deleted scene if you will, which explains the lack of speech! It might help to imagine celtic-esque music in the background! Lol! Oh, and the lyrics at the bottom are the ones to the song I had on repeat while writing this. I like to think it Faramir and Eowyn's song!

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He'd always felt secluded and safe in this part of the garden. The curling steps that led up to the small temple, a round dome supported by a ring of pillars, the views sweeping across Gondor and the peaks that dotted the horizon.

As a child he would come here when he was upset, when he needed comfort. He would lie back on the steps and stare out, up at the blue skies.

Tonight however, it was not the fluffy clouds of his childhood that greeted him, but the twinkling stars and deep blue billows of night, a peaceful blanket of darkness draped over the landscape, making even his deep sigh sound like an explosion of sound.

As a child he'd never have remained alone for long. It was Boromir who had usually found him, knowing his younger brother's favourite hiding spots, the places he would go whenever he needed to disappear for a few moments. He'd take up the step beside him, and they'd sit in silence, watching, savouring the escape. They were among his favourite memories now.

It had been many years since he'd taken refuge here, many years since he'd needed refuge of any sort. But tonight was different, tonight he needed the comfort. He needed the chance to sort out his feelings.

They'd found the body. After days of clearing the White City's streets of the horrors of battle, they'd found their former Steward amongst their colleagues, broken, burnt. His death a mystery. No one knew for sure what had happened.

But Faramir did. He knew his father, he had felt the years of neglect, and yet he'd seen his father's anguish, he'd seen, however blurred the memory was now, the look of joy on his father's face as he'd opened his eyes. That, his last memory of the Steward, was both a blessing and a torture. He couldn't get over the feelings, the combination of freedom and anguish, feelings he'd been getting over – until today. Now he was back at square one, and alone. He was all alone.

A noise disturbed him, and he frowned, mildly annoyed that someone was disturbing his reverie. He sat himself up with a grunt of exertion, casting down into the shadowy garden.

A pale figure was moving toward him, slowly, quietly, folds of a white dress flapping in the night breeze, strands of blonde hair blowing loose, the way she preferred it. He watched her silently, their eyes fixed upon one another's as she drew closer.

Usually when she found him out, it was to draw comfort from him, express her troubles, let him diminish them, talk her out of her black moods, enjoy the reassurance his very presence afforded her. Not tonight. Tonight she had sought him out for very different reasons.

He was hurting, she could see it. See the sorrow in his eyes, she could sense his loneliness, it was a feeling she knew well enough herself. But it pained her to see him suffering so, especially as he had provided such comfort to her in times of need. Stood with her quietly, taken her hand, given her those little smiles that lifted her soul and had started to make her heart quicken. Tonight it was her turn.

She climbed the steps towards him quietly, lifting the hems of her skirts, eyes fixed to his, noting his silent curiosity.

She wasn't going to offer any words of advice, she couldn't, she had none to give other than that which he had provided her. But she sensed words weren't what he needed, he needed more, he needed to know he wasn't alone. He wasn't and he would never be again. She was going to make sure he knew it.

He remained silent as she reached the top step, gazing at her, both pleased and puzzled by her presence.

Slowly, she dropped to her knees on the smooth surface, her skirts fanning out around her like a blanket.

Faramir turned his head to regard her, each waiting for the other to speak, their heads close, eyes bright in the darkness, gazes matched.

Eowyn's heart started to thump, her breathing quickening as Faramir frowned in mild confusion. She knew he was about to ask if she was all right. Always his first concern. She smiled, the knowledge only strengthening her conviction. Before he had the chance, she lent forward, hair falling from behind her ears to tickle at her cheeks as she gently pressed her lips to his.

It took him a second to respond, clearly surprised by the move, but, as his reply showed her, glad as well, his hand moving to gently brush her cheek with the back of his hand as hers moved to cup his face.

In an instant any worries the two of them held, vanished. Thoughts of lost loved ones turned to memories of happier times, feelings of guilt and anguish disappeared, matters of the heart no longer seemed so complicated.

They broke the kiss slowly, moving back from one another, their eyes exploring every last inch of the other's face as if trying to remember a dream.

Faramir was the first to move in again, catching her lips in a second soft kiss.

A cool breeze ruffled her hair, and they parted again, both smiling, dazed but happy. Eowyn took up his hand, clutching it between her own warm palms, stroking the skin soothingly.

Then they sat. Watching the night skies, safe with one another. Together.

Faramir sighed contentedly. Boromir hadn't come this time, he wouldn't, not again. But as long as she did, that was all right.

She moved her head inwards to rest on his shoulder, and he smiled, moving to place a delicate kiss on her forehead and wrap an arm around her, drawing her close.

He wasn't going to be alone. Not anymore.

And neither was she.

The End

The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful
Stop me and steal my breath
Emeralds from mountains thrust toward the sky
Never revealing their depth
Tell me that we belong together
Dress it up with the trappings of love
I'll be captivated I'll hang from your lips
Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above

I'll be your crying shoulder
I'll be your love suicide
and I'll be better when I'm older
I'll be the greatest fan of your life

Rain falls angry on the tin roof
As we lie awake in my bed
You're my survival, you're my living proof
My love is alive not dead
Tell me that we belong together
Dress it up with the trappings of love
I'll be captivated I'll hang from your lips
Instead of the gallows of heartache, that hang from above

I'll be your crying shoulder
I'll be your love suicide
and I'll be better when I'm older
I'll be the greatest fan of your life

I've been dropped out, burned up, fought my way back from the dead
Tuned in, turned on, remembered the things that you said

I'll be your crying shoulder
I'll be your love suicide
and I'll be better when I'm older
I'll be the greatest fan of your life

I'll Be – Edwin McCain