Chapter 9: A Kiss

"Now a soft kiss - aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss." —John Keats

Eowyn woke after a long nap to a curly head peering round the door frame. Grey light filtered through a gap in the curtains and the room was chill.

"Merry?" she said, yawning as she pulled a shawl over her arms.

The Hobbit grinned and padded into her room, placing a cup of tea beside her. "Mistress Ioreth bade me see if you were awake and ready for luncheon?"

She smiled, "Thank you Merry, that's very kind of you. Let me have my tea and I will come down and join you."

Eowyn laughed as Merry's stomach gave a loud grumble, and said, rising, "I had better make haste!"

The Halfling grinned responsively and gave a courtly bow. "I am content to wait for you, My Lady."

When Eowyn arrived at the garden some minutes later she was disappointed to see that the clouds had not cleared and a fine mizzle of rain lay over the land once more. Merry was nowhere to be seen. Indeed the garden was empty but for one lone figure sitting on a low bench in the lee of a pine tree, heedless of the weather. She sighed, wondering what haunted Faramir.

She hesitated, glanced down the corridors, then strode out into the garden. As she drew near she saw that Faramir's eyes were closed, long dark lashes resting on pale cheeks. His hair was damp, so too his clothes where they were not covered by his oiled cloak. He looked at once peaceful and strangely melancholy and she stopped in her tracks, wondering if she should even wake him — it was clear he needed the rest — but it was growing cold and he was already soaked and could ill afford to fight off a chill.

She stepped over to him and touched his arm lightly, his name on her lips. But before she could utter it his lashes lifted to reveal the deep grey of his eyes. Immediately his gaze clouded and he drew in a breath, closing his eyes in a long blink as he tilted his head back. Rain spattered his face and tracked over his cheeks, an echo of unshed tears.

Eowyn's brows pinched as she regarded him, her heart clenching at the sight of his pain unmasked. Knowing it would be useless to ask if he was alright, since he was patently not, she cast about for something with which to break the silence and bring a smile to his face. No words of eloquent comfort sprang to mind and she cringed, settling for merely reaching out to take his hand in her own as she sat at his side, saying simply, "I am here."

Faramir drew a deep breath and gasped when his ribs shifted, eyes flying open. He hissed out a controlled breath and groaned.

"Easy," Eowyn said, her fingers reaching out, feather light, to rest press against his bound torso, "Small breaths."

A rueful smile quirked one side of Faramir's full lips for a moment. "You would think I'd be used to breathing by now."

"Peace," she admonished. He grinned and fell silent then for a time till his breaths were measured once more whereupon he lifted her fingers from his torso and held her hand over his heart, forcing her to turn to face him more fully.

"Eowyn," he spoke somewhat huskily though his eyes travelled over her face with a look of infinite tenderness. Her eyes grew wide with wonderment and heat rushed to her cheeks, her heart beating in accord with his as it thundered beneath her palm.

"Faramir?"

He smiled at the query in her tone and cupped his hand against her cheek, drawing near to her. He drew a breath and spoke earnestly, without any trace of self-consciousness. "I wish I could find the words to thank you for the joy you bring to me."

"Me?" she blinked.

"Aye, you, dearest Eowyn," he said, smiling warmly as his callused thumb caressed her cheek. He swallowed and his face grew serious once more. His fingers drifted down lightly against her neck and he tilted her chin so that she looked upon him.

"You are a light in the darkness," he said, "I would be lost without you," and Eowyn drew a quick breath and shivered beneath his feathery touch as his lips brushed fleetingly against her own.

She murmured his name, felt him smile a little as he pressed a second, lingering kiss firmly against her lips before drawing back to look at her.

Eowyn regarded him with a shy, demure smile at odds with the mischievous sparkle in her wide eyes. "That was very bold, My Lord."

Quick to perceive her bantering tone, he responded with a dimpled, lop sided grin. "Indeed, I beg My Lady's forgiveness."

Eowyn bit her lip against a bubble of laughter. "I assure you, that won't be necessary."

She caught sight of Merry waving at the far side of the garden and raised a hand in greeting, hoping he would not see her flushed cheeks. She turned to Faramir.

"I should go," she said. Her heart clenched at the flash of uncertainty that crossed Faramir's handsome face. She hastened to explain. "I am meeting Merry for lunch."

Faramir's raven head bobbed once in understanding.

"Will you not join us?"

He smiled then, a little wistfully, and shook his head. "Thank you, but I must see Angbor, and Lord Hurin."

Eowyn regarded him in concern. "You should be resting," she said.

Faramir sighed. "I know," he admitted, "And in soothe, I feel sorely in need of it, but the Lord of Lamedon arrived late last night and I would have speech with him regarding the movements of the Haradrim. We cannot be found unprepared should they risk an attack on the city, and Hurin cannot deal with such matters alone for he is not a military man."

"Do you expect them to attack the city?" she asked, golden brows rising in query.

Faramir shook his head once, and frowned for a moment in consideration. "Perhaps."

"Then perhaps you would be so good as to show me to your armoury later so that I may find something with which to defend myself in the event of a breech," Eowyn said, her expression becoming stern as she continued, "The healers have removed my sword and dagger from my keeping."

Faramir's lips twitched, as he spoke in dry accents, "It seems it is not only the Marshals who are afraid of you."

Once more she swelled, hearing the strange note like pride in his voice, but he sobered quickly, brows pinching across the bridge of his nose as he regarded the state of her sword arm. He pursed his lips, then nodded and loosed a long knife from his own belt.

"Take this," he said, passing it to her, "It should serve you better than a sword if it should come to a fight."

Eowyn ran a finger over the embossed leather of the sheath, admiring the craftsmanship and intricacy of the design, but glanced up at Faramir, protesting. "But this is yours."

Faramir nodded gravely and reached out to close her hand about the sheath. "Aye, but I would fain give it up to see you safe."

"I cannot accept this," Eowyn whispered. "I owe you much already."

Faramir regarded her with piercing eyes, "Anything I have given you has been given freely. You owe me nothing."

She looked long at him and read the truth in his eyes. "I know." A smile rippled over her lips and, impulsively, she reached out and to kiss Faramir's cheek. "Thank you."

An answering smile bloomed over Faramir's lips. "That was very bold, My Lady."