Hands of Promise
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Return of the King)
Genre: General/Romance
Rating: G
Characters: Faramir, Éowyn
Summary: Based after events of Return of the King, Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn share in one of their favourite pastimes. My first pairing story.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, or the story of The Lord of the Rings.
(A/N: Another LotR fic! I'm sorry for not completing the other ones of mine just yet, as I still have to work out a few plotbunnies, but this one is a one-chapter that came into my mind one evening. I thought I should post a story for my favourite pairing; Faramir and Éowyn. I hope you like it!)
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
The land was still. Much had changed, and yet it had not. People had grown, and so had new lands. The sun was still as timeless as it had been long remembered by those who had lived to see it in the past.
She had not entered the room for comfort. She did not desire any free-spoken sympathy of mind from strangers or no words of men for her pities. She had only arrived to free herself into her forgotten land, the land that was hers in her memory.
Though yet she served a happy life, indeed she was happy. She had lost and gained a love, and still kept the warmth of her dignity within her heart, though to the eyes and thoughts of others she had changed a plenty. But to herself, she had only taken the next step in her pastime adventure.
The swords lay gleaming in front of her. Magnificent creatures to her eyes, woven and crafted by such skill of hands from distant parts. They almost had their own lives, their own backgrounds. Such stories could be told from the hands of these gentle beasts. Éowyn smiled to herself as her hand rested upon the blades.
No longer was she considered a shield maiden. That name did not stand by her own for no longer than it was intended. In the eyes of common men, she had been tamed by one Steward's son, though indeed this was not so.
Lord Faramir often told her this. "Her heart," he had said, "Is as strong and swift as the mightiest hunter on this land." In a way, she had believed him. It was his words, which spoke the truth, which stood out in front of her and made her listen. It was reasons of his own of which she loved him.
To the eyes, she had the beauty of a king's child and the posture of a royal life. But what contained within would be the spirit that many soldiers would long for, and wish for their own sons to have. Éowyn felt different from many, and she longed to be, she had always longed to be in her life.
She lifted up a wealthy sword, and watched the blade make contact with the light. How it shone in her eyes, it was a sort of control that the Lady craved, it filled her heart with such excitement of battle that she longed to hold it high in her victory.
She spun it around her fist a many times, hearing the hollow swish as it passed through the air and disturbed the peace. Though her presence may have seemed strange to the mere passer-by, inside she felt as if she were whole. Her whole life was brought up to feel this way, even though she may have been looked on differently.
As the White Lady of Rohan, a daughter of kings. Now that she had been wed to her Lord she found more strength in his acceptance and behaviour. She felt his understanding and his compassion towards her beliefs. He did not boast of her, but looked upon her proudly, as her brother had done once.
It had not dwindled a time before her shadow was not alone. She felt her Lord's presence in the weaponry room also and she turned her attention to him. Though her clothes were simple, her manner went with her at all ways. She looked upon him as her golden hair rippled behind her elite shoulders.
"My Lord, I was not aware of you," she said.
"Neither was my notice of your whereabouts," Faramir replied, stepping down into the chamber, his footsteps sounding off the walls. "Though I had expected to find you here." He eyed the blade in her hand with a soft smile.
Éowyn shifted, swirling the weapon handle in her palm. "I could not stay away," she told him. "My reasons are clear." There was a pleasant sound in her voice.
"As I see," Faramir said, looking down upon his wife as he now stood by her side. "Such as profound beauty can be found in the strongest of things. I know of your desire of your past and find I cannot hide you from it."
"I cannot hide from it either," she whispered.
Faramir stared at her. Such fortitude found in her that he worshiped, her strength was grander than that of some of his finest soldiers. Not only did her beauty inspire him, but her skill and wisdom of character. She had seen battle, she had fought and gained her pride. He loved her for that, and so he said so then.
Éowyn smiled. A heroic man in her eyes, she had always longed for the love of a fighter, one she could stand beside and fight in her honour. Her eyes fell into his as she responded. "My heart burns with my love for you, Lord Faramir." She then thrust the sword out over her head with a sly smile, challenging him.
Chuckling back in a reply, Faramir drew his own mighty sword from his sheath and returned the favour, holding it out before him. This had happened much a time before, which the Lady had longed for the returning notion of battle. It was one of their connecting fortunes, one of which they bonded ever closer.
Their hearts linked as did their blades as they did battle down in the weaponry, dodging and throwing their swords in arms of attack. The clangs sounded out loud to their ears, and their movement was those of experience, as they twirled and spun across the floor, almost as if they were dancing.
Éowyn was graceful in conflict, she found her feet easily in her steps and threw her weight into her fighting ranges. Her face was alive as the light danced upon it and her eyes wide with alert, staring upon her Lord as they continued to duel, a sense of victory shone in her face, as if returning her longing for combat.
They kept it up for another ten minutes, moving back and forth across the floor and hardly tiring, though by and by they did sometime become quite spent as their timing came to a close. Lord Faramir's breath rate had quickened, and the Lady Éowyn's beautiful hair had become rather matted to her cheeks.
Though they smiled at one another still, and returned their swords. The room had fallen under deathly silence, not a sound could be heard. Faramir slipped his blade back into his sheath and grinned at his wife.
"It has been a long time," he said.
"A long time, it has," Éowyn agreed. She accepted her husband's smile and let him take her in his arms. They kissed together then, in the dark chamber with only the shadows to support and comfort them, to keep them company.
Yet the light from their hearts shone brightly to excel the land that was theirs.
{END}
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
(A/N: I know it's short, but I really liked this idea. Éowyn still has her fighting spirit! And Faramir adds a nice touch...my first try at this pairing, so I hope it's good enough. Please R&R!)