A/N: Jumping back on the fanfiction horse after over a year of inaction. This is only my second venture into this fandom, and I thought I'd try something different. Hope it isn't crap.

Disclaimer: I don't own

Possessive

Eowyn hated Elves with a passion. Hiding her feelings only intensified the deep loathing she felt. No one would understand or empathize with her because no one could possibly understand. How could they when Elves were so good, so noble, so fair?

But Eowyn knew better. Twice now a man she considered to be hers was stolen from her by one of their kind. First Aragorn was taken by the Elf lord's daughter, Arwen Evenstar. How could a man like Aragorn prefer a lady who had never gone into battle, who likely spent all her time sewing and singing pretty Elf songs for her father over a woman like her? She was strong, fierce and fearless. Was she not the White Lady of Rohan? Had she not killed the Witch King of Angbar singlehandedly? Was she not a shieldmaiden worthy of a king?

She decided that if she could not have the King of Gondor, she would settle for its Steward.

When Faramir left Gondor shortly after Aragorn's coronation to "properly grieve for his father and brother" as he put it, the Captain had been eating out of her hands. Over the course of his journey, Faramir faithfully sent her letters expounding upon the depth of his feelings for her and how she pulled him from the shadows. She became more and more satisfied with each letter. No one would take Faramir from her, she was sure of it.

But the letters stopped once he reached Lothlorien.

At first Eowyn wasn't troubled. She knew Faramir was hers. She went about her daily life as though nothing had changed. She returned to Rohan and helped Eomer rebuild Helm's Deep and otherwise bring stability back to their war torn homeland.

In passing one day, Eomer noted that he had not seen her reading a letter from Faramir in at least six months of not seven.

"I have been so busy helping you, dear brother, that I have hardly noted the passing of the seasons," she said nonchalantly, furiously calculating the last time Faramir had written and realizing that her king and brother spoke the truth.

"We have done all that we can for our people for now, Eowyn. Aragorn has invited us to Minas Tirith," Eomer paused and smiled in the hopes of reassuring his younger sister. "Perhaps his Steward will be there to greet us." Eowyn forced a tight lipped smile.

"And perhaps the Steward's lovely cousin will be there as well, dear brother." But not even Eomer's blushing denial could bring a true smile to Eowyn's face.

All of a sudden the smug comfort she had lived in vanished. The last place Faramir had gone to was Lothlorien, a wood teeming with Elves. What if, like his king before him, Faramir decided he much preferred the soft delicacy of an Elven lady to the boldness of a shieldmaiden of Rohan? Could she bear losing another man to one of those Elves? Were the Elf women so dissatisfied with their own kind that they had to take human men away from women who actually knew how to handle them?

Eowyn would not let another one of her men be taken from her by one of those Elven wenches, but what could she do? There was no way she could go racing to Lothlorien to wrest her heart's second choice from the clutches of whichever Elf had stolen him from her; she was a king's sister, and as such certain behaviors were expected of her. The shieldmaiden in her raged, but she resigned herself to the trip to Minas Tirith, praying Faramir would be there and vowing to punish the fool who'd dared to touch her property.

That fool met them in the capitol of Gondor, along with a glowingly happy Faramir, and Eowyn was almost powerless to contain the scream of rage that rose to her throat and nearly choked her. As she suspected, Faramir was rubbing shoulders with a loathsome Elf, occasionally pausing in whatever conversation he was engaged in to lock eyes with the creature and share smiles so intimate that Eowyn wanted to scratch their eyes out, but it wasn't a She-Elf. Faramir's new companion was none other than that horrid Haldir of Lothlorien.

It was an insult greater than any she had ever known in her entire life. Not only had she been bested by an Elf, but by an Elf male. The thought sickened her to the core. It mattered little that this Elf, this March Warden of Lorien, fought so valiantly in the defense of her people. She didn't care that the centuries old warrior chased the shadows from Faramir's eyes and brought real, true smiles to lips that for so long only knew frowns. Haldir had unknowingly done Eowyn the worst wrong imaginable, and she would return the insult done to her honor.

Eowyn was nothing if not possessive.

-End-