All right. So we all know about that extended edition scene with the head-resting. But what took them there? How did Faramir start to gain her trust. Well, I thought I'd try and fill in the gaps, or, well, one of them at least!
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She felt…
She didn't know how she felt…
She felt guilty mostly. An overwhelming sense of guilt. She'd felt it the moment she'd woken, looking up into the anguished eyes of her brother. Weary and red. She'd done that to him. How could she have been so selfish? How could she have put him through that?
She closed her eyes tight shut, trying not to imagine herself in the same position. Distinguishing Eomer's broken body lying on the battlefield, her brother, her protector. She couldn't bear it, and yet, he'd had to.
Yet, wasn't he going to do the same to her? Theoden and Eomer had ridden off to battle believing her to be safe in Rohan. If they'd both died, she'd have been left alone too. How was it any different? It wasn't, and at the same time, it was. They'd have died guilt-free, and she knew why. When they'd charged into the battle they were fighting for their home, for the land they loved, they were fighting for her. What had she been fighting for? Rohan? Probably not as much as she should have been. She knew why she'd gone. She'd gone to prove herself. That was different.
Her head started to spin as guilt, self-pity, grief and gratitude waged war against one another, battling ferociously, pulling her back and forth between them until she was desperate to feel normal again. She'd never been so out of control in her life, and it frightened her.
"My Lady?" It was a soft voice, a gentle, calming tone, although perhaps laced with a hint of concern, "You are unwell?"
She shook her head, keeping her back to him, trying to calm her erratic thoughts before they betrayed her.
"No. No. I'm quite well."
Faramir frowned. Not taken in. The response far too hasty to provide any sort of comfort.
He paused briefly, the smallest smile of admiration tugging at the corners of his lips. He'd anticipated finding her such. Cagey. Defensive. She had, after all, disguised herself as a man and slain the Witch King. Opening up, he got the general impression, wasn't something she looked upon favourably. He nodded.
"I'm glad to hear it." He stepped up next to her on the stone veranda, noticing as he did, that her hands were gripping the stone balustrade tightly, her knuckles white with the effort. She didn't even realise she was doing it.
"I've always thought this view to be one of the best in the city." He commented quietly. Out of the corner of his eyes he watched as she lifted her head to briefly take the scene in for herself. She nodded slowly, swallowing. He could see she was working up the courage to speak calmly.
"Yes. It's beautiful."
It was a half-hearted attempt at best, but at least it had forced her mind off her troubles, if only briefly.
"I seem to have stood here many times in my life," He raised a hand to point into the distance, "As a child I remember watching for the patrols coming in from the west. We liked to be first to witness their return."
He smiled softly, his own memories taking over. He barely noticed Eowyn's head dropping and turning slightly in his direction, though not enough to meet his gaze.
"We?"
"Yes." Faramir took a breath, willing the words out, "My brother and I."
Her curiosity got the better of her.
"Where is he now?"
Part of him was glad that she felt comfortable enough in his presence to ask him. An example of some sort of trust she had in him. Despite their having shared nothing before this moment other than a glance across a courtyard. A glance that had caught his interest. Cold, conflicted eyes. He'd known that look. He'd echoed it in his darkest hours, sitting silently with the broken Horn of Gondor cupped in his hands, trying not to visualise the moment it had shattered. The moment of impact.
He blinked.
"He is dead."
The answer seemed to startle her, although he was sure part of her had been expecting it. She turned to look at him, noting that this time it was he who avoided eye contact. She turned away once more.
"I am sorry for your loss."
Faramir looked up, his expression resigned. He had grieved, he had let it overtake him. He had come out the other side and took the comfort in the fact that he survived his greatest fear. Boromir would have been proud of him for that.
"Does it get better?"
She was looking at him, her eyes fixed on his in determination, clearly fearful of the answer. She was looking for the truth. He wasn't going to lie to her.
"Yes. Once the anger subsides, once the grief wears itself out, once the guilt leaves -,"
"Guilt?"
Eowyn felt her breath catch.
"Yes."
They stood in silence for a while, savouring their shared understanding. Faramir's grieving had been a solitary affair. No one had known Boromir as he had, no one had known himself as Boromir had. He hadn't just lost his brother, he'd lost his greatest hero and his greatest challenge. He'd never lived up to Boromir's achievements, he never could have. Boromir had never asked him to, but Denethor had. Faramir had grieved for a brother he'd loved, but at the other end had looked at himself for the first time in his life. In many respects a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was his own man, now and forever.
As the storm clouds gathered overhead, Eowyn frowned, deep in thought. For the first time since her Uncle's death, gratitude was wining out. She had proven herself, but not in the way she had anticipated. She was no war hero. She was a casualty of the war, and yet as she'd woken, and looked at Eomer's tortured face, she'd realised for the first time in years just how much he meant to her, and her to him. He drove her mad, chided her and treated her like a being made of glass. But it was because he loved her, not because he underestimated her. She had been stupid, she had been selfish, but far from being the biggest mistake of her life, it had shown them both what they had been fighting for. What they still had to fight for.
She turned to look at the man stood beside her, tall, bright eyes hidden under locks of tousled hair, his very presence calming and unassuming. Very like another man she knew, but Faramir was different. There was nothing secretive about him, he wore his heart on his sleeve, and yet he allowed her to be herself in the same way Aragorn had, the same way that had caught her attentions in the first place. She was her own person, and neither asked for anything else.
"Do you think it possible for good to come out of this darkness?"
Her question this time seemed brimming with hope, and Faramir turned to her, smiling warmly,
"I am dependent upon it…" he took a deep breath, his smile widening, "Besides, any force that brought you to Gondor cannot be wholly bad."
She turned to him suddenly, surprised and he waited for her reaction apprehensively, acutely aware he may have just made the biggest blunder known to man.
The ensuing silence stretched out before them like an eternity.
Just as he was chiding himself for his own stupidity, a grin spread across Eowyn's face and she laughed, grateful for the chance.
"No indeed." Her eyes sparkled mischievously and looked up into his. Sharing her amusement.
He smiled back.
"No indeed."