A/N: Here's a cute little story that just popped in my head. It's of no consequence, really.
Review, please!
Rienzi, the Shining.
He liked the way the light reflected against the tiny blonde hairs on her arm, making them seem almost white in color. Only the second time he turned his eyes to admire the subtlety, she noticed his glance and fidgeted in discomfort as if to shake his attention off of her. It worked quite nicely; he looked at his own hands awkwardly.
"Tell me about your horse," she said unevenly, desperate for some bit of conversation. She suddenly realized that men of Gondor might not have personal horses as one in Rohan might, who hold them in most high regards. By the manner that Faramir looked out into the gardens pensively, she grew confident in her question.
"The only noteworthy horse I've ever ridden was a mare that I lost most recently. After the retreat over Pelennor fields, I don't know where she ever went to," he mused softly. With relief, he saw the interest written in her eyes, and he continued.
"Quite a faithful creature. There were many times when I thought she'd run off for good, but found her way back to me anyway."
There was a hint of a smile playing on Eowyn's lips, and it warmed him. "Did she have a name?" she asked.
"Not until one day when we passed a nomadic village on the river. While the horses were drinking, a child walked up to me and started chattering away. She asked me what the mare's name was and I said she lacked one, and would be grateful if she assisted me in discovering a title that suited her."
Eowyn laughed gently. "And how came the verdict?"
"We settled on Rienzi. Rienzi, The Shining, for she had a shimmering chestnut coat."
After the genial reaction to his story, Eowyn settle her gaze to his features, and he returned the gesture.
His eyes, she thought remained sober-looking throughout their whole acquaintance. Not in a severe manner, but more mournful. She knew this emotion was directed towards her, and did not desire his pity, nor anyone else's. She couldn't help, however, the heart-ache, and sudden flutter in her stomach that she felt when he turned those grave eyes toward her.
His thoughts were mostly of the 'burn, pine, and perish' sort.
He noticed a small freckle in the shade of her jaw near her ear. He slowly lifted his hand up and put his thumb gently on the small speck. He noted how she turned her head ever so slightly, and ran his finger over it again. Absent-mindedly, he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. In the lowlights of the sunset, her hair had an orange glow to accompany its usual golden shine.
At that time he got up and offered his arm. As she accepted it with a smile, a small blush spread over her nose, not only because of his sudden specific attention, but also of her newly found affection for the Steward of Gondor.