March 25, 3019

The afternoon sun was weak, but was still a welcome reminder that Spring could not be held back forever.

Faramir and Éowyn sat together on a stone bench in the gardens of the Houses of Healing. She was wrapped in the beautiful blue mantle that Faramir had gifted her while he wore his tattered and stained ranger's cloak. They were so close their shoulders touched, each seeking warmth and comfort from the other, and the sight brought little smiles from the others who braved the garden's chill.

Though none would be so bold as to ask, many were curious about what they could be discussing.

The rangers, who saw how relaxed their captain was with the lady, noted how attentively he watched her when she spoke, wondered if perhaps the man who had carried books of poetry in his pocket while on patrol had at last found his own romance. They imagined him reciting verses and speaking to her with an ease they could only envy.

The healers saw two of their patients showing every sign of making a full recovery together. Some saw them through the eyes of youthful hope, and imagined they made plans for a wondrous future together.

The servants were relieved that spending time with Faramir seemed to sooth the lady's temper, easing their job of attending her. They hoped that he wooed her, and would soon take her away to his own halls, and may she never suffer hurt again that would require her to return!

None suspected that they discussed treason.

"You do not wish to continue to operate in Ithilien, then?"

"It would be my preference, but we cannot risk trying to use any of the secret refuges that my… that the Steward knows of. Those he will order searched as soon as he knows that I have left the city." Faramir sighed. "And I fear the orcs will cut down all the trees that they can long before we could have much of an effect on the Dark One's plans. The thought of them denuding the hills, and fouling the streams..."

Éowyn looked over at him, and put her hand on his forearm for a moment. "My brother told me of what had been done to the forests around Isengard. I am sorry to think of the lands that you so prize suffering the same fate." He reached over and put his hand lightly over hers. After a moment she pulled away, and tucked her hand back into the warm folds of the cloak, and he crossed his arms across his chest.

Silence fell again until she cleared her throat and spoke quietly. "I... have heard of caves in the foothills of the White Mountains, sheltered by the Firien Woods. Do you think they could be of use? I could ask among the riders to see if any know more of them…"

His head tilted a little towards her as he considered before replying. "I have also heard of them, but I do not know of any extensive survey of their locations." After a moment he sighed and shook his head. "The Firien Woods would also be too far away from the roads to the Black Gate, save the West Road."

For a moment silence again fell between them as they considered. Finally, Éowyn spoke again. "The muster rode on a long abandoned road that ran along a valley between the mountains and the Druadan Forest. The shadow covered the sky and we were riding hard, but I remember seeing darker spaces in the walls of that valley, which looked like they could be entrances to the mines that the Wild Men told my uncle of." She looked over at him for a moment. "I believe I could describe the entrance to the road, if you have men that could be sent to scout it…"

He turned his head and met her eyes, and a slow smile lit his face. "Truly you are a wonder."

A touch of color came to her cheeks as she returned the smile, but then she looked quickly away. "I would not say that, my lord. I only wish to do what I can to fight the Dark One."

He sobered again, and nodded as he stretched his legs out in front of the bench, crossing them at the ankle, settling more comfortably against the back of the bench.

Silence fell between them again for a time, but then their conversation resumed, and for a while they spoke of lighter things before returning to their planning.

While Éowyn had never spent time living or fighting in forests herself, she had grown up surrounded by soldiers, and knew enough of their ways to offer other suggestions on how the Rohirrim might face this situation. While they often needed to be altered to suit men on foot among trees rather than on horseback on the plains, it was enough to prompt him in new ways of thinking.

Each evening he returned to his rooms and made notes for himself of the ideas they had discussed during the day, encoded in a way only he and his lieutenants could read. And then he lay in his bed and tried not to think of her or of how much more he admired her with each passing day spent talking in the garden.

Each morning she woke to wonder why it was that she had not dreamed of Aragorn, the man she insisted she loved, but of Faramir.

AN: Many thanks again to Sian22 for her skills as a beta, and to the ladies of the Garden of Ithilien for their comments and suggestions.

As a note of humor, this AU was inspired by the recent Robin Hood movie, but this chapter was actually written before it came out. I'd already decided to use the mines before that movie showed them. :)