Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien, merely a crazy, book-loving teenager.

Please, please, please review this and tell me how I did! This is the climax AND the first romantic chapter I've ever done. PLEASE!

Eowyn took charge, wrapping Faramir with blankets and rubbing his tense shoulders with her cold fingers. She was frightened, but tried not to show it and upset Faramir further. She felt the tension drain from his body and his breathing return to normal, though a deep, overwhelming sadness poured out from his eyes. Nudging his shoulders gently, she made him lie down on the couch. He spoke, his voice hoarse and tired. "Thank you very much, Lady Eowyn."

"Shh, Faramir," she said, hoping that he couldn't hear the tremor in her voice. He did.

"Eowyn, please, sit," he said, gesturing to another couch beside him. "I'm so sorry that I have burdened you with this. Boromir and I have a close link, though never have I felt anything at this distance. Something is amiss."

Eowyn sat on the couch, exhausted by the sudden excitement. Faramir got up and brought an armload of furs to her, unfurling one gently over her knees and another around her shoulders. She nodded gratefully.

"I'm sorry, Lord –"

"No, don't be. Please, I think a rest might be in order, for both of us."

It chafed both of them to admit it, but it was true. Faramir lurched back to couch and burrowed into his blankets.

He dreamed strange dreams in his sleep. Aragorn running towards hosts of orcs. A stocky, short figure, another hobbit, jumping off Boromir's horse hollering a battle cry and brandishing a short sword. Boromir in his element, smiling his mad grin as Orc after Orc met its end at the edge of his sword. An unfamiliar dwarf stood his ground, hacking at the hordes of monsters running after him. At his back a lithe, supple figure with blond hair and pointed ears shot arrow after arrow into the melee. As far as Faramir could see, every one hit its mark. Ominous clacks sounded as Gandalf's staff hit thick skulls. His sword, skillfully wielded, worked death to all who dared approach. Eomer of Rohan dispatched of each Orc neatly and quickly.

Then, the Nazgul came. Reminded of his ordeal, Faramir sprang to immediate wakefulness. Eowyn was standing watch, her eyes searching for any activity on the horizon. Faramir rose and joined her.

The battle is met," he said. She looked up at him, surprised at his knowledge.

"I saw it," he said, answering her unspoken query. He saw her shiver. Shedding his fur-lined cloak, he wrapped it around her shoulders. She turned and faced him, studying his face. His eyes were dark, and it seemed to Eowyn that he looked beyond her, seeing something she could not. In a moment of trust, they joined hands and turned to watch the east together.

Dolan, walking across the courtyard below, looked up. Seeing hope renewed, he smiled and went on his way. All who saw them, standing together, felt hope blossom anew in their heart.

As night fell, Faramir and Eowyn turned to go to their rooms. Wishing each other a good night, each walked away, their minds full of strange thoughts.

He dreamed of Eowyn that night, the same dream over and over. He saw her, standing on a grassy hillock. Before her fields of white wildflowers waved with the wind. She was looking over her shoulder, smiling at someone. The sun kissed her hair and lent a rosy hue to her happy face. At that point, the clouds came and shadowed the sky. That was all he saw before sinking into deeper sleep, only to dream it again later.

……

In her bed, Eowyn drew long, shuddering breaths. She had tossed and turned late into the night, refusing to let herself think of Aragorn. Tonight, thoughts of him would not be pushed aside. Worse, the images were mixed up with those of Faramir. She did not want to love Faramir.

But she knew that Faramir was the only one who kept her sane; who kept her from losing her mind with waiting. Fear and pain lay always on the edges of her mind, threatening to creep into senses and overwhelm her barriers.

Tears slipped from under her closed eyes. Suddenly, she felt stifled in her room and wanted air. She kicked the blankets off and threw open the window, letting the cold air bathe her fevered head. Closing her eyes, she inhaled and forced herself to think rationally. Aragorn didn't want her. Her eyes stung at the thought but she knew it to be true. But she wasn't ready to let him go. The tears came quickly now, drawing trails that caught in the moonlight and sparkled. If he didn't come back her heart would break. And yet, she saw Faramir lying pale and tense on the couch, and she felt again the fear that gripped her heart. A strangled sob tore out of her. She went resolutely back to her bed and closed her eyes, forcing herself to sleep. Things would look brighter in the morning. She hoped.

……

The next morning, Eowyn stood, her sadness forgotten as she gazed in wonder at the cloak laid on her bed. Faramir had sent her a cloak the color of deep summer-night. It was lined with fur, and embroidered round the hem and cloak were silver stars skillfully tailored. Accompanying it was a small handwritten missive saying only that he hoped she would find this useful and that he hoped it was a fitting complement to the beauty of the Lady of Eowyn.

He didn't know why he sent it. All he knew was that it seemed fitting to give his mother's cloak to Eowyn. He remembered, vaguely, how his mother used to sit in the highest level of the city, looking longingly toward the direction of the sea, enveloped in the cloak. He remembered her sad, wistful beauty and thought that Eowyn shared that beauty with her. He only hoped that she wouldn't take offense.

……

Only a soft rustle alerted him from his post on the wall to her presence when she ascended the steps. Turning around, he caught his breath. Eowyn had the cloak on. The blue in it gave her eyes a deep green tint and made her hair seem nearly white. But as she came closer, he noticed that darkness ringed her eyes and she looked tired. He gave her his hand and led her to the couch. She spoke first.

"Thank you." her voice was tired.

"Forgive me, Lady, but are you well? You look ill."

"I did not sleep well," she admitted. Faramir heard the catch in her voice.

"I am sorry," he said. It hurt him to see her so weary. "Would you like me to take you to your rooms?"

"Thank you, no. I'll just sit here."

"Can I get you some blankets?" he asked.

"No, thank you." The dismissal was evident in her voice. He nodded, accepting, and went to study the horizon.

A moment later, she came to stand beside him, tears falling from under her fluttering eyelids. "I'm sorry, lord. I didn't mean to be rude."

Faramir nodded steady assurance. "I didn't take it as such, Eowyn."

"It's been seven days!" Her emotions were at breaking point, and she could hold them in no longer. "I'm afraid, Faramir! For those I have learned to love!"

"I am too." he admitted readily. "All that I have ever known is gone, and I stand here as lord of the city. But it is a long way from here to Mordor, and everything is so uncertain," he said. "Anything could have happened by now."

So they stood together, silent a long time while morning passed to afternoon.

"Faramir, why am I here? I longed to die in battle – an honorable death beside Theoden-king. I still long to die in battle, with a chance for renown and glory. And yet I cannot bear more death!" she said finally. Faramir had a ready answer.

"Eowyn-lady, there will come a time when glory is forgotten. There may come a time when you and I and every man, woman, and child in this city will have to bear arms. What then?"

But there was no answer. Eowyn was shaking with great heaving sobs that would no longer be suppressed.

"Eowyn." His voice was so soft, so utterly compelling. She turned to meet his eyes. Eowyn saw raw strength and courage in his eyes. Neither of them said anything. Closing her eyes, she laid her head on his shoulder. Hesitantly, he brought his arms around her. When she didn't protest, he rested his chin against her head. Eowyn relaxed in his hold. Faramir lifted her and carried her to the couch. She was light, a mere feather of a maiden. hardly straining him at all. He hoped that she would find some peace in sleep. He covered her and pulled up a chair beside her. The sight of the two asleep sent Dolan, who had come up to check on them, scurrying down the stairs, leaving the two to their vigil.

……

Boromir was weary, not even trying to think. He fought leadenly on foot, slipping into the memory of battle stances, thrusts, parries. They had been fighting for hours; morning had passed into noon and it was now drawing into evening and the Orcs just kept coming. He was covered in gore from head to toe. Mingled sweat and blood dripped into his eyes from a cut on his forehead. His arms were littered with cuts and his clothes were in shreds. His heart ached for the men that had fallen; some hundreds, perhaps as much as a thousand were dead or dying. Fear for Pippin sometimes grasped him before he pushed it from his mind. Nazgul flew overhead, harrying the men and unnerving the horses. How he detested the filthy beasts.

Out of nowhere, Aragorn pulled up beside him. Roheryn, steady horse, still bore him. Boromir's face lit up briefly at the site of his liege. Like Boromir, Aragorn, too sported a plethora of cuts and bruises. A nasty slash on his sword arm leaked blood. "Up, Boromir," he said breathlessly, lending Boromir a hand up to Roheryn. "I need a moment to tie up my arm and you have been fighting without cease. We'll fall back into the men a bit and catch our breath."

It took a full half hour for them to reach deep enough into the men to find a temporary refuge. Boromir tore a rag off his sleeve to use as a bandage for Aragorn. Out of some hidden pocket Aragorn pulled out a bit of half-decent fabric to wipe off the worse cuts on their faces.

"I wonder what nightfall will bring." Boromir said.

"Only hope for the best."

Within minutes, they went back into the field and were separated from each other, both feeling somewhat ready for more fighting.

The blow took Boromir unawares. A moment ago, he was fighting back to back with a Gondorian. Now a sharp jab to the side of his chest sent him tumbling down, clutching his side. It was a minor wound, but his tired body would take no more. Someone kicked him down and his eyes closed even as his fingers scrabbled for his sword.

Only minutes had passed before he opened his eyes again. Realizing that he was fair game without his sword, he patted the ground around him till he found it. Just as he got up, he heard a voice suddenly brimming with hope calling out: "The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!"

The fighting stopped completely. Called by some unseen signal, the Nazgul turned toward Mordor. A violent earthquake shook the ground beneath their feet. All eyes turned to Mordor. Orodruin was belching out liquid flame and smoke. The foundations of Barad-dur crumbled with a deep rumbling noise, carrying with it the majority of the Orcs. The rest, headless, began screaming and fleeing as the Eye of Sauron burned.

Middle-earth was free from the threat of Sauron.

Wait. Orodruin crumbled.

Tears sprang to Boromir's eyes as he realized what it meant.

The hobbits were there. He looked again at the molten rock issuing from its fissures. It meant that they were dead.

Or not. Gandalf had commandeered three of the Eagles. The lordliest carried Gandalf on its back. Under his direction, they flew with great speed toward the remains of Mordor. A fourth flew in the direction of Gondor, bearing tidings of the victory.

Tears still slipping down his face, he went to find Pippin and the Fellowship. Also Eomer of Rohan. Already he saw Legolas and Gimli trudging toward Aragorn, Eomer and Boromir's uncle Imrahil approaching from the opposite side. Aragorn had already begun looking for men who needed help.

But Pippin was nowhere to be seen. Boromir began running, searching for the little hobbit, crying out his name. Hearing him, the others began to search as well.

……

Something woke Faramir to a wide-eyed stare a moment before Eowyn woke with a gasp.

"Eowyn, something's changed!" Faramir rasped to Eowyn, his voice suddenly hoarse with excitement.

Both sprang up from the couches and hurried to the wall, looking out, hoping desperately to see anything.

Eowyn noticed the change before Faramir did.

"The sun," Eowyn breathed. "The sun is no longer veiled."

Faramir nodded. "Yes," he said. For a moment Eowyn saw a glimpse of Faramir as Captain of the Rangers; wise and stern in the ways of battle. "The sun is out, though setting. That may mean either of two things." His eyes roved back and forth, calculating, planning, always moving in search of…of what? Eowyn did not know. "Either the Nameless one has succeeded and unveils the sun to proclaim his victory or…he is unable to keep it hidden because Aragorn has triumphed with Boromir and the others! I think, in any case, the battle is over. I need to warn the men to be ready for battle, if it comes to that. Men will have to be on the wall, watching." He paused. "It reminds me of Numenor."

"Numenor? Then you think that Darkness is coming?" said Eowyn, drawing nearer to him.

"No. It was just a picture in my mind. I know that great evil has befallen and we stand at the end of days. But in my heart, Eowyn, White Lady of Rohan, I do not believe any darkness will stand!" Hope and joy rang out in his voice. She moved closer to him and he took her hand in his. Wind came, and kissed their faces, and lifted their hair from their necks in banners of brown and gold as they faced outward. Behind them, in the city, everyone paused in their work, and felt the change. The old blacksmith at the bellows set about with a will, finding strength to go on. In the houses an old woman looked up and smiled, feeling a light, clean breeze caress her withered cheek. Merry in his solitude in the garden decided to go look for something to eat. Hope leapt up in everyone's hearts, and they went about their work with a ready will. The whole city, formerly so silent, began waking up.

Eowyn felt the excitement coursing through Faramir and heard the bustle in the city behind. She felt left out, somehow, saddened, unable to share in their joy. How could they know, she thought dispassionately. It may well be that he won! And what if Orcs should be the next thing to come striding over the hills, not Aragorn victorious, flying the banners of Gondor and Rohan?

"Eowyn, look!" Faramir cried suddenly, breaking Eowyn from her reverie. Far away in the sky something came toward them. "Get down!" he cried. "Get off the walls!" Thinking it to be Nazgul, Eowyn froze, the blood in her veins turned to ice. "No!" she cried. "I faced them once, I'll do it again!"

"Eowyn, it's an Eagle!" Faramir said as it came closer. Her eyes widened. It was indeed an eagle from out of the tales of legend!

He sang as he flew over the city:

Sing now, ye people of the Tower of Anor,

For the Realm of Sauron is ended for ever,

And the Dark Tower is thrown down.

Sing and rejoice, ye people of the Tower of Guard,

For your watch hath not been in vain,

And the Black Gate is broken,

And your King hath passed through,

And he is victorious.

Sing and be glad, all ye children of the West,

For your King shall come again,

And he shall dwell among you

All the days of your life.

And the Tree that was withered shall be renewed,

And he shall plant it in the high places,

And the City shall be blessed.

Sing all ye people!

He was silent for a moment, willing himself to realize it, to know that they were free.

He could ask Eowyn now.

He could ask her if she felt how he did when he saw her.

He could ask her if she knew she made him breathless when she smiled.

He could ask her if…

If she would marry him. The thought made him dizzy with delight.

"Eowyn, lady, we are free!" he said. Goodness triumphant shone from his eyes and erect mien. Eowyn stood breathless. He stooped and kissed her brow. Their eyes met. Eowyn was mesmerized by the intensity in his eyes, saying nothing. Moments passed.

"Eowyn, do you not love me, or will you not?" Faramir was suddenly aware of the pounding of his heart.

"I wished to be loved by another." Said Eowyn. "But I will take no man's pity."

"You wished to be loved by the Lord Aragorn. You wished to have a chance for song and glory and high renown. When he gave you pity you no longer desired his love. Do not scorn the pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Eowyn! But I do not give you my pity. For you are queenly and valiant yourself, and more beautiful, I deem, than the words of the Elven-tongue can tell. And I love you. Do you not love me? Once, I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, were you the Queen of Gondor, still I would love you. Eowyn, do you not love me?"

She gazed at him long and steadily, wanting to give him an honest answer. Feeling her defenses being swept away, Eowyn tried to remember that it was Aragorn whom she loved, but all she could see was Faramir. Faramir when she had seen him first from across her rooms after his nightmare, pale and sweating. Faramir tense and nervous over Boromir and Aragorn. Faramir as he covered her with blankets. Faramir as she found strength and courage in his arms and eyes. Faramir as he carried her to the couch.

It dawned on Eowyn that she loved Faramir. That she even loved him greatly. She looked up into his eyes locked onto her face.

"Behold!" she said. "The Shadow has departed! I stand before you free of the weight of the world! I will love all things that grow. No longer do I desire to be a queen." She said, laughing. Faramir nodded gravely, hiding a smile. "That is well, for I am no king. But I will wed with the White Lady, and we shall pass to better days."

Not caring who saw, he took her in his arms and kissed her. And Eowyn laughed in joy and love, a maiden unshackled and free as the city behind them that laughed with her and began to live again.