Chapter Two: The White Lady

Eowyn, the noblewoman of Rohan, stood as she did most mid-days, watching the wind from the front of the kingdom. She showed no smile, no anger, no cheer, only despair fell across her eyes.

"Niece, do not look so." King Lord Théoden laid his caring hand on her shoulder, "Do not hold so much sadness in your face, it does not suit you."

"Uncle, what would you have me do?" Eowyn spoke, "I can but only wait for Eomer's return."

"Your brother will come to no harm, I am sure of it." Théoden said, "He is a great leader of men."

"I'd like to think so." Eowyn stated, crossing her arms.

Théoden hugged his niece: "Do not fret my child. All will be right for it will be."

A brown horse rode up to the front steps before Eowyn, on the horse was a man- a man Eowyn had not seen before. Odd for her being, she knew all the people of importance in Rohan. Perhaps he was not of Rohan.

"Sir, speak." Eowyn said, "You are before Lord King Théoden. Say what you must."

On the horse stepped off Faramir, son of Steward-King Denethor II. On his hip lay a belt, which hung a sword sitting calmly it is case. The symbol of Gondor was on his chest.

Théoden pushed aside his niece, noticing the symbol on Faramir's chest.

Faramir bowed gently to the king, and then Théoden spoke to him: "What news from Gondor?"

"My Lord. My father, Lord Denethor sends his apologies for such a hasty entrance." Faramir said, "But there is a urgent message you must hear."

Eowyn raised her eyebrow: "Your father? Some prince you are."

Faramir glanced at Eowyn. "I'm no prince, ma'am." Before Faramir looked away, he had looked at Eowyn longer than he intended to.

"What is the message, steward-prince?" Théoden asked.

Faramir looked to the king of Rohan: "My brother, Boromir, has ventured far to the Dwarven Kingdom of Erebor. There he spoke to Lord Bir, and told him what news he heard in the Dwarven stronghold of Khazad-dum."

"Khazad-dum." Théoden repeated, "That name is very familiar to me."

"It very well should be." Faramir said, "It's an old Dwarven tale. The city of Khazad-dum was home to their ancestors. That's where hordes of Dwarves were found, slaughtered. That is where the Witch King of Angmar resides."

Théoden looked to Faramir quickly: "The witch...witch king of Angmar? Sourmon's deadliest servant."

"Yes." Faramir said, "And we must act quickly. Gondor is leaving for Khazad-dum in seven days. We must be ready. We can stop him then and there. We can fight! What say you, King of Rohan?"

Théoden thought for a moment. "Of course we will stand with our brothers of Gondor." Faramir smiled and bowed to Théoden. Théoden turned from him, and strolled inside his throne room.

Faramir's eyes wandered again to Eowyn, who he saw, so beautifully in this mid-day sunlight, whose hair danced so lovely in the light wind. Whose elegance was unmatched. He had never seen a Gondor woman as such. Only here, in Rohan did he. He walked closer, up only two steps. He waited.

"What is your name?" Faramir said carefully.

Eowyn looked at him. "Eowyn." she said.

"Is that what people call you?" Faramir said, "Eowyn?"

Eowyn walked, pacing before Faramir, almost teasing him, and his big eyes.

"I am called many things." Eowyn said, "Eowyn is the name given to me from my mother and my father. I have other names that were given to me though. Lady of Rohan by my subjects, and by some, the white lady."

"The White Lady." Faramir repeated carefully, grinning, "You are a lovely shade of pale." Faramir stepped closer to the white lady, who did not move. She simply looked at him as he stood beside, and looked over her.

"Why do you flatter me so?" She asked, her blue eyes staring up at him.

"Do men not often flatter you?" Faramir said, "Men of Rohan, must court you often, do they not?"

"Not, I say." Eowyn turned away from Faramir, "I am no one's prize or mate. I am in the royal court, mind you lord of Gondor. Do remember that."

Faramir walked in front of Eowyn again, having the courage to place his hand on her cheek. He felt her warmth, and her blush. A rose on marble, Eowyn was a work of art to him.

"Will you not see me again, on your will?" Faramir spoke. Then, without a purpose, he let himself kiss her.