I

Eowyn leaned against the windowsill. It overlooked Minas Tirith. Black dots--people--moved up and down the white streets, their clothing a ghastly contrast. Someone knocked on the door. Her mind was whirling with emotion. "Come in," Eowyn said.

The door opened and a ten-year-old lass spilled in. It was Etta, the little hand-maiden King Elessar gave to Eowyn. Her black hair covered her eyes. Etta brushed it back. Several unruly strands stuck to her forehead with sweat. "Lady!" Etta cried. "Lady! I just saw--" Etta broke into hysterical laughter. Eowyn couldn't help but smile.

"What is it, Etta dear?"

"I saw Lord Eomer and Lothliriel of Dol Amroth kissing in the garden below us, Lady. Queen Arwen saw it too. She bade me come and tell you, Lady."

Eowyn broadened her smile. "That sounds wonderful Etta," Eowyn said. "I expect there will be more feasting in a few weeks or so."

Etta laughed some more and went off to gossip among the servants, both Rohirric and Gondorian.

Why can't my life be as smooth as Aragorn's and Arwen's, Eomer and Lothliriel? Eowyn thought. She plucked at the necklace Queen Arwen had given her. It was just one kiss, one sweet kiss 'neath the sunlit sky. And nothing more... Eowyn thought sadly. No more hint of affection from Lord Faramir, Steward of Gondor. His mind is now saturated with the affairs of Gondor, she reasoned. Eowyn unclasped the necklace to look at it.

It was a glass in the shape of a tear-drop. Inside it was the White Tree made of mithril. It was beautiful. It hung on a slender silver chain. She put the necklace on again and slipped it neath her dress.

The sun made specks of orange and amber on the floor. Eowyn flung her woolen cloak over her slender shoulders and opened the door. She wanted to be alone. She told the guard outside her door, "If anyone is looking for me, tell them I am sleeping and do not wish to be disturbed."

"Aye, m'lady," the guard said.

The library was empty. Scrolls adorned every dusty shelf. She found a scroll about the history of Gondor. She sat down and started reading. A servant came and took away her cloak, and poured her a mug of ale. Eowyn thanked the servant. She then found she was not alone.

Sitting on a chair at a table opposite her was Faramir. The sun lit his hair brighter than the bright red-gold it was. His arms were folded on the table. He was sleeping. She motioned to a servant.

"Pray tell," said Lady Eowyn, "what is the steward Lord Faramir doing here?"

"He comes here every day, my lady," the young lad said. "He says it is the only place where he will not be hindered by the affairs of the White City."

Ah, Eowyn. He seeks asylum as do I.

Faramir awoke. He blinked his eyes and yawned. Eowyn blessed all muscle he moved. Then, Faramir saw her. He smiled and walked over to her table.

"My lady," he spoke softly.

"My lord," she whispered.

They were silent. He's embarrassed. He's embarressed by what happened in the garden. He is regretting kissing me. That is why I have not seen him for so long, Eowyn thought. She felt a blush touch her cheeks.

"How have you been, lady?" Faramir asked.

"Fine, lord."

"Did you hear? Your brother and Lothliriel..." Faramir stopped. His cheeks turned red, too. He cleared his throat. "I expect they may wed... ahem soon."

"Good news isn't it?" Eowyn forced a smile. Faramir gave a wry chuckle. He patted his flat and muscular belly.

"With all these feasting, I'm getting fat."

Eowyn rolled her eyes and laughed. Faramir looked embarrased again, suddenly. He stood up, bowed, mumbled a farewell, and slipped out of the doors like a thread slipping through an eye of a needle.

Valar! Eowyn thought. I don't suppose I'd be seeing him anytime soon.