Today would be a day of memories. Of this, Éowyn was sure. She knew she would remember the beating of Faramir's heart as she touched his naked chest for the first time. She would remember his exquisite body, cut from marble but softened by the dark hair announcing that he was a man grown. She would remember the softness of his skin, the coarseness of his chest hair, his scent. She would remember that every moment her hands were on him, she wanted to touch more. She would remember wanting to pull herself closer to him and feel his hands on her too. She would remember the look of barely contained desire on Faramir's face as she touched him. She would remember his hand in her hair as he tasted her mouth with his tongue...
She would remember the black ledger, full of the names of the dead. Of her friends, of her brethren. She would remember crying with him, letting their grief over fallen friends intermingle and cleanse them both. She would remember the cost of their victory in the names and faces of the fallen, and she would remember to take care of each and every person those soldiers had left behind.
She would remember the conspiratorial laughter she shared with Gimli and Legolas as she spirited away the Steward's ring. She would remember Faramir's smirk as he passed her the note she'd left him when she took his ring, and his single comment, "I trust you." She would remember both the unqualified hug she received when she met Lothíriel, as well as Éomer's bemused and enamored face as he followed the raven haired beauty's steps. Yes, Lothíriel would be her sister-in-law. She wondered how long it would take for her brother to realize it too.
She would also remember the distressed look on Faramir's face when he spoke of their revelatory dinner, and the haunted look on Aragorn's face as he announced he would be attending too. Éowyn wondered if the good memories or bad memories would win the day.
She had just left the incomparable company of Prince Imrahil and his children, coaxed into sharing stories of Rohan by Lothíriel. The afternoon passed more quickly than she had imagined, but as the light in the sky waned, Éowyn could feel her muscles tense as she thought about dinner. A private dinner with Merry and her beloved sounded wonderful, but it could not quell the feeling of worry. Faramir had also started tensing as they made their way toward the guest houses, clearly he was thinking the same thing. In front of Éowyn's apartment they both stopped. Faramir was about to leave when Éowyn grabbed his hand.
"I want to read it. Here," Éowyn had made up her mind, "But I want you here with me when I do it."
Faramir's expression was inscrutable.
"I'll wait while you go and get the book," Éowyn said, please Faramir.
Faramir sighed and nodded, then kissed Éowyn's mouth, "I'll be back in a few minutes."
Faramir jogged away. Éowyn followed his path with her eyes, then finally turned to go into her apartment. Before she made it inside, she glanced one last time. Looking at one particular window, she realized she was looking directly at Faramir's office window from her door. She suspected that was not a coincidence… She decided to keep watching, and saw a faint light come on in the room. Faramir had gone to retrieve The Elven Arts of Healing. She wondered if he would also look out the window. Sure enough, his shadow appeared. Éowyn waved, in case he was looking. There could be some benefit to this, she thought, perhaps a way to let you know when I need you Faramir, or when you need me.
Before she had time to finish her thought, Faramir was back, book and translation in hand. Éowyn opened her door, and both went inside. Faramir looked more strained now than when he had left her just minutes ago. Éowyn looked questioningly into his eyes.
"Yet another thing I should have told you before min elskede," Faramir exhaled, "My window. Your door."
"I knew of your view Faramir," Éowyn smiled, "You would never have let me leave by myself last night if you could not watch my progress."
"I watch for him," Faramir's face became still, but fury was in it too.
"Is that why your bow sits at that window?"
"...Yes…" Faramir had turned pale; concern, fury, and fear intermingled in his eyes.
"You didn't tell me because you did not want to worry me," Éowyn was speaking to herself, but speaking out loud, "You know the memories that speaking of him dredges up for me."
Faramir was looking at her, astounded, "Yes…"
"You're having nightmares of fire, can't sleep, and so you must…" it hit her, "when you cannot sleep you stand guard at that window… watching."
Faramir let out a little tremble, "yes…"
Éowyn trembled then too. She had never thought of the possibility of Gríma slithering to Minas Tirith. She could hear his muffled footsteps. His attempts to break into her room. Her stomach turned to ice, but then she looked into Faramir's eyes, and realized that they were sharing this dark thought. She thought of her Ithilien Ranger, standing at that window in the darkened room, scanning to make sure that his beloved was safe, hand on bow… just in case. It made Éowyn feel safe. She pulled Faramir to her, and she kissed him forcefully. His hands found their way to her waist, gentle but solid.
"Faramir…" Éowyn was whispering, her fingers caressing his jaw, "You don't have to tell me every little detail. I knew you could see my path. You were protecting me, both from the ghoul who haunted me in Meduseld, and from memories of it."
Faramir melted into her at her words, and she could hear him muttering apologies all the same. Most were unneeded, save for one.
"As with your fire dreams, I am more unhappy that you kept from me that you are having so much trouble sleeping," she looked into Faramir's eyes, projecting some sternness, but mostly concern, "I never want to be protected from your pain min elskede. I don't want to find out your fear for me keeps you glued to a window looking for demons crawling in the night. And I don't want you to wait until you are at the edge of exhaustion to tell me your dreams are haunting you away from your sleep. I am strong enough for all you must place upon my shoulders, because to heal and love you heals me in kind."
Faramir looked at her once more, full of tenderness and love, "I fear that keeping from telling you things I know may bring you hurt will forever be one of my faults. Please chastise me every time I do this, but I fear protecting you will always be my first instinct."
Éowyn gazed back at her beloved raven haired Steward, "I will. And to hide your fears and pain from me is no protection, it is just prolonging the inevitable hurt, made worse by my fear you are not telling me for a reason."
Her words struck, and Faramir pulled her in more closely again, "I'm so sorry min elskede."
"Faramir, we have a lifetime to find the right balance," Éowyn kissed his lips, "Just as fighting a Wraith did not break me, neither will hearing you are watching my door to make sure he does not slither into Minas Tirith."
Éowyn pulled Faramir closer to her then, positioning her lips at Faramir's ear.
"Plus, there are other uses for your watch," she whispered as quietly as she was capable, and could feel Faramir shudder at the sensation, "I do not sleep well either. And on nights I have nightmares, I will place a candle in my window. So you will come to me."
"Min elskede…" Faramir seemed to say that when he was reading her intentions as more carnal than their reality.
"Sometimes just having you near me is as good as a mother's lullaby. To tell you of my dark dreams lessens my pain," Éowyn looked into Faramir's eyes then, "And I reckon the same can be said for you. If you light a candle, I will light one too. When you blow yours out, I will come to you."
"It may be better if I were the one to come to you, always," Faramir replied.
"With my brother next door?" Éowyn remarked, "I suspect it is better to find my room empty with a note saying you and I are talking than to find you in that apartment with me."
Faramir instinctively rotated his shoulder. Éomer likely wouldn't do more damage than that, but he certainly was capable.
"If we are truly going to attempt this scheme, then I will teach you stealth. I also will insist that you learn skills with a dagger," Faramir had gotten a serious look on his face, but it was mingled with conspiratorial glee, it was wonderful.
"I accept," Éowyn smiled, the thrill of their secret washing over her. Secret liaisons with her betrothed. So they could whisper of their sorrows under the stars. Éowyn felt warmer thinking about it.
"Now though, your book," Faramir handed Éowyn her book, and the translation, "I've made sure this translation is perfect. I am here for you if you want me here, but I will wait outside, so you can decide for yourself if you need privacy."
Faramir kissed her, then walked deliberately outside. Éowyn looked at the answers to the mystery sitting in her hand, and suddenly she was scared. The warmth of their conspiracy had drained away, replaced with dread. The section was titled "Drawing Back Souls from the Shadow." Éowyn looked outside, and knew he was there. But she wanted to discover for herself, for now. She started reading.
Each word was ice, piercing her ever deeper. Her hand had started trembling, making it ever harder to read. But she pressed on. She needed to. She read the words again, Faramir's words translated from Sindarin: They will have to experience those sorrows and memories in full that have brought the sufferers to their accursed state. Dread filled her.
When Aragorn called them out of their shadow dreams, he lived every single thing in their lives that had caused them pain. Aragorn watched the memory of Éowyn's mother abandoning her for death. He watched the sad resolve on her brother's face when he left her for the next endless campaign. He saw Gríma's hunger for her. He heard his muffled footsteps and insistent keys. He saw Gríma try to take her in the stables. And he saw his own indifference, the crushing blow to her that it had caused. Every shame, every fear, every sorrow that Éowyn possessed, now too possessed Aragorn.
Éowyn dropped the book, and sat staring blankly at the room. Her ears had started ringing again, and she was underwater trying to make those passive faces save her from drowning. Éowyn tried to call out to Faramir, but she was paralyzed, trapped in her shadow dream.
Then hands were holding hers, and a face full of fear was emerging from the mist. Faramir's. The one who now pulled her out of the water in her dreams. The one whose love she could call to and he would come. He would always come. Now his arms were around her and he was kissing her, and she could feel his tears and they were her tears too.
"I'm so sorry min elskede. I love you. You are my light Éowyn," Faramir held her tightly, and she was present. Gríma was gone. She was not under the shadow anymore. The shadow had been defeated and a new dawn was upon them. She was in the arms of her beloved, who she shared all her sorrows with willingly. Who took on their burden as his own for the love he had for her. His sorrows were also her's, and she took on their burden as her own for her love for him. And together they were healed.
"He knows… all our sorrows," Éowyn tried to absorb it, "Mine. Yours. Merry's."
"Yes." relief had flooded over Faramir's face that Éowyn had come back to the present.
Éowyn felt naked, violated. Every moment Aragorn had looked on her since he returned he knew everything. He knew the pain he caused her, he knew every large and small humiliation in her life that had brought her to such despair that she nearly succumbed to shadow. And he knew that his was the final blow. And he didn't say a word of it. The numbness of her panic was wearing off and she was finding the other emotions that linked to this. She felt exposed, but she also felt burning fury overcome her. She wanted to find her sword and she wanted to take from Aragorn every single thing he had taken from her. She wanted to ride out, far away from this place and these people.
Suddenly the room felt too small, closed in and imposing upon her. Éowyn released herself from Faramir's arms and with a loaded look, swept from the apartment. It was almost night. She set off, letting her feet guide her to wherever it was they felt she needed to go. Faramir followed her, but kept his distance. She needed to breathe. She needed to find a place she could breathe…
Her feet did the rest. She walked deliberately down to the sixth level, though the House of Healing, and into the gardens. Before she knew it she had climbed onto the eastward wall and had sat upon it, letting her feet dangle down into the abyss. The place where she almost fell into the shadow. The place Aragorn had taken so much from her. It was also the place she felt light come back into her heart for the first time since Gríma. Faramir jogged up to her. His face was pale white as he looked at her, twisted in worry. Éowyn looked at him, then down below her. She would not fall, not here. She did not back then and she would not now. She looked out to the east.
"He marched to his death with my brother, knowing all the hurt he caused," Éowyn had finally found her voice again, but the rest she still shut away, "I didn't think it was possible for him to take more from me than he had, yet, here we are. In the very place that he took the last pieces of me. Denying me my humanity was not enough. Denying me my glory was not enough. He needed to deny me my sovereignty too, by invading my mind. For someone who treated me with such indifference…"
Faramir had carefully seated himself next to Éowyn.
"I am not sure if it is any consolation, but he didn't know that would happen to him until it was too late," Faramir looked out into the east, following her own gaze, "At least that is what he told me when I confronted him in his bath this morning."
Éowyn's numbness broke. She looked at Faramir. Had she heard him..?
"You confronted the King. In his bath."
"Yes. I read him the exact passage from the book. In Sindarin. While he was in his bath."
"You're still alive."
"There was a moment I was surprised a dagger was not sticking out of my eye… but. Yes. The way the King found out that we knew his secret was… because I walked in on him while he was naked and read him a book."
It happened in a second. Éowyn felt her chest lurch, then the laughter came in great waves. Her proper and thoughtful Steward, calmly reading to a naked Aragorn a passage from a book. She could picture it. Faramir had scooted off the ledge and was holding out his hand for hers. She took it. The force with which he pulled her away from the ledge told Éowyn just how worried he had been. She closed the rest of the distance and pulled him in for a tight hug. This man who was hers.
"Are you okay min elskede?" Faramir tried to sound light, but there was deep unease in his voice.
"Yes," Éowyn replied, and she was. And because she had him, she always would be.
Faramir pulled her to him and kissed the crown of her head. He then let his lips rest there. He was trembling. She wondered if he thought there was more on her mind as she sat on the precipice.
"I will always be okay, because I have you."
Éowyn said the words into Faramir's ear, then looked into his eyes. It took them a long while to let go of one another.
"He really did not know?" Éowyn asked.
"No." Faramir answered.
"And he invaded your mind too?"
"Yes."
One more thing you and I share min elskede, Éowyn thought, kindred sorrows and kindred violations. At least none of Faramir's grief had been caused directly by his invader. At the same time, what had she expected Aragorn to do? Let her die perhaps. In that moment, she would have gladly chosen it. But Aragorn had invaded her mind and healed her, and in the process she and Faramir found each other. Without Aragorn, Éowyn would not have penetrated Faramir's sorrows and brought him joy (and he would not have done the same for her). Without Aragorn, Éowyn would never have known such a love as she had with her raven haired Steward.
She did not know what she would say when she faced Aragorn. She did not know if she could forgive him for his invasion of her mind. She did not know how it would feel to face her shame, knowing that he was feeling every moment of it too. But she did know that she was safe; that Faramir knew her pain and would be there with her when she faced it. That he was a man who would confront a naked King to start healing the hurt that King had inadvertently brought to those he loved.
"I'm ready," Éowyn stepped back, then took Faramir's hand, and the two headed back toward the Steward's house. No matter the outcome of dinner, Éowyn also knew that tonight she would light a candle in her window and await the watching Steward.