I can see the checkmate in front of me, Faramir thought, but he could not take it. Not while Aragorn and Éowyn were in the garden. Was it the right decision to let Aragorn and Éowyn face off? He did not know.

"Just take it Faramir," Merry's exasperated voice cut through Faramir's worry.
"Sorry Merry," Faramir moved his knight into position, "Checkmate."
"You can't stop thinking about them, can you?" Merry's directness was a gift.
"No."

Faramir would never forget that fleeting moment when Éowyn looked down the precipice. A vision of her falling from that height, like his father, flashed before his eyes, and reason fled him. But more than that, it was the look of anguish on Éowyn's face that hit him. The terror he felt in that moment was burned into his memory forever. In that moment he would have done anything to stop her pain. To take away everything that brought her to that grief. On the precipice, Faramir saw her pain so plainly, but also her trust in him. And he knew he would do everything to heal every single one of those hurts.

Hurried footsteps broke Faramir's concentration, and Éowyn was past him. Faramir jumped up and chased after her.

"I- I need to go," Éowyn was shaking. Faramir pulled her in for an all-encompassing hug.

He should have known. This was a terrible idea. He should have talked to Aragorn himself, and to Éowyn. He should have kept the King away from his beloved while she came to terms with what it all meant, and healed. But he had pushed it. He wanted so dearly for all to be out in the open that he had pushed too hard.

"I'm so sorry min elskede. I am so sorry," Faramir kissed the crown of her head and swallowed back his own tears, his shame.

"Faramir, I'm glad you arranged this. Your instinct was right. I just… don't have energy anymore to stay for dinner," Éowyn touched his cheek softly, he leaned into her caress.

"I will send something to your apartment," as he spoke, he kissed her brow, "Actually, I will accompany you. One moment."

Faramir nearly sprinted back to Merry, "I am taking Éowyn home. I will be back shortly."

Merry nodded, and Faramir was off.

"Did you know that Aragorn has been betrothed for 30 years?" Éowyn was still trying to puzzle things out.

"No," Faramir nearly stopped walking.

"All he had to do was tell me," Éowyn's voice was dark, "It would have been enough…"

"Enough to keep you in Meduseld?" Faramir couldn't help himself, and he pulled Éowyn closer to him, smelling her lavender hair.

Éowyn did stop at this remark, and looked intensely at him, "yes."

"I know the hurt he caused you. I know the shame you feel for your decisions after he turned away from you. But still I am glad he did," the words poured from Faramir's mouth, he could not help but release them, "Because without him, I would not have you. In all of this min elskede, you rode into my life and gave it meaning. The day you decided to ride to Gondor was the day my life changed. Even though I know I should feel such anger for your pain, still I cannot contain my joy, because that pain brought your light into my life."

Faramir pulled Éowyn's hand to his mouth, and kissed her fingers. He loved her so much it hurt, and he wanted to drain the pain away from her. But he also wanted her to understand why he could so easily forgive Aragorn for the pain his indifference had caused his beloved. Éowyn's lips showed the faintest of smiles, and he knew he had won, he had shone light into her shadows.

"I will forgive him. In time," Éowyn gently freed her hand from his kisses, "And I know he feels remorse. It was the strangest thing. As if I could feel his emotions as we spoke. I could feel his guilt. His pain. It was… too much. For now."

It then occurred to Faramir that he felt the same thing. He had supposed it was empathy, but it seemed to run deeper. The book had not said anything about what came after the healer had succeeded in drawing one from the shadows. Were Merry, Éowyn, and himself now forever psychically linked to Aragorn? Faramir made a note that he would ask. They arrived at Éowyn's door. Faramir pulled her in for a hug, a hug that tried to make up for a lifetime of being apart, a hug that begged her to be okay. When they broke apart, Éowyn's face was serene.

"Look for my candle," she whispered as she removed her hand slowly from his hair, then turned and went into her apartment.

He had heard her right. An hour into her discovery that he kept a vigil over her door, she already found a way for them to be together when they needed each other most. Tonight was a night that she needed him, and he would be there.

He also knew that they would keep the promise they made to each other to keep their wedding night sacred. Even in those moments of bliss in his office, her hands touching him, still he knew he could control himself with her. It was relieving. And the idea that he could seek her out when his fire dreams overwhelmed him held a comfort that he had not felt since before they started haunting his mind. Faramir was not sure that Éomer's watchful eyes would miss his sister sneaking out to be with her betrothed, but trusted that Éowyn would ensure that neither ever had to deal with Éomer's blind rage in their late nights together. The sparring and the bruises would be well worth having Éowyn's company, her comfort.

He finally turned around to head back to the Steward's House. Aragorn and Merry were waiting for him, for their dinner. Even without Éowyn, the three needed to sit together and talk, and heal. When Faramir returned, he found Aragorn across from Merry at the chessboard, losing to the Hobbit. Both looked up at him, with shared concern on their faces.

"How is she?" Aragorn started, misery clear on his face… and inside Faramir…

"She's okay," Faramir replied, "She is strong. She will heal."

Aragorn nodded, but the knot in Faramir's stomach told him that the King's turmoil was far from over. Faramir let his mind connect to Aragorn's, gently pressing his faith in Éowyn's strength into Aragorn's mind. When their eyes met, Faramir could tell Aragorn felt him, and understood everything in his action.

"You… feel it... too," Aragorn's eyes were locked with Faramir.

"Yes," Faramir replied, "So did she."

Aragorn went a little pale.

"Strider, stop feeling nauseous, I needs must eat, and was starving but a moment ago!" it was Merry. Both looked down at the Hobbit with dawning realization.

"You… you too Merry?" Aragorn looked astonished, and the slightest bit scared.

"I didn't want to tell you, because you'd been fretting all day," Merry shrugged, "It seemed a revelation better shared tonight over dinner."

"Another thing I suspect that was not made clear when you drew us from the shadow," Faramir said.

"Seems there were many things that had not been made clear," Aragorn shuddered.

"So, you lived all our sorrows. You experienced every memory in our life that brings us pain. Everything that drew us closer to succumbing to the shadow, then willed us away from it," Faramir said the words matter of factly, but knew that both he and Aragorn were seeing some of those cursed memories before their eyes.

"And now when I am near you, I experience your emotions as my own," Aragorn pressed his fingers into his forehead, trying to escape the images in his mind. Faramir did not know what he was living, but could feel his panic and shame.

"That appears to go both ways," Faramir replied, "What memory is causing you such pain in this moment?"

Merry was looking as raptly at Aragorn as Faramir was, which he supposed meant Merry was experiencing the panic and shame as well.

"One of Éowyn's," Aragorn trembled, "The one I caused."

"Perhaps leaving you two alone to confront each other in the garden was not one of my best ideas," Faramir spoke dryly.

"As opposed to confronting me in the bath?" Aragorn's words were grave, but Faramir could feel his amusement.

"What?" Merry had stood up, and was turning slightly red from suppressing laughter.

"That was one of my better decisions," Faramir grinned at the King, "As is suggesting we retire to the dining room to eat. Éowyn's portion has been sent to her apartment. There is plenty of food. I daresay there is plenty still to talk about."

Aragorn smiled, and Faramir could feel his mood lightening ever so slightly. All then walked to the dining room where supper was set before them. The Steward's cooks had outdone themselves. Even Merry looked impressed at the variety. When Faramir looked on their faces, he knew they were whispering and marveling at their new King. Aragorn let out a deep breath, and calm optimism overpowered Faramir. Everything would be okay.

"Merry, I will tell you about the conduct of your Steward if you tell me about the spoons." Aragorn's smile grew.

"You first," Merry folded his arms.

"I underestimated Faramir's skills as a Ranger," Aragorn replied, "He caught me naked and unprepared, then just read the passage of The Elven Arts of Healing about drawing people to the shadow. When he was done, he got up, gave me a parcel of clean clothes, and left me to my bath."

"To be completely fair, you could have hit me square in the eye with that dagger," Faramir smiled.

Aragorn laughed, and Faramir could feel more poison and sadness exiting the King.

"Now your turn Merry, why was Éowyn wearing a spoon when I called upon Éomer this morning?" the wrinkles around Aragorn's eyes had become pronounced.

"Pip and my idea. We had a bet going, who could wear a spoon on their nose the longest. Éowyn won… oysters from Dol Amroth from Imrahil, a bushel of wild strawberries she herself offered, truffles from Éomer, a bundle of Longbottom leaf from Pip, and a can of salted Brandywine sweetfish from me." Merry was smiling now too, "Though there is going to be a rematch. The Prince seems to think that Lothíriel is a match for Éowyn."

Faramir's laugh echoed through the entire house. He was having trouble containing it. His cousin and Éowyn, head to head in a game of who could wear spoons on their noses. He feared that he would be wed with a spoon still on Éowyn's nose, the maid of honor also still wearing a spoon.

"That is going to be a bad idea," Faramir replied, "You are matching two of the strongest wills that exist in Middle Earth."

"Is it open to anyone?" Aragorn inquired.

"I suppose so," Merry looked at Aragorn curiously, "Surely you can't join Strider, you're the King."

"That did not appear to stop Éowyn," Aragorn sighed, but Faramir could feel echoes of amusement in Aragorn's gut.

"I fear that will also not stop Lothíriel," replied Faramir, "Though she seems to be distracted now by another King."

Merry looked at Faramir, delight in his eyes.

"That is wonderful! Poor Éomer, he so fretted when he received your letter asking for Éowyn's hand," Merry was smiling, "I should like to see him as besotted as you two."

Faramir smiled internally, feeling the fire of his love for Éowyn burn in his gut. In a brief moment, Aragorn had caught his eye, and he could see contentment and joy on his face as well.

"You deserve your love," Aragorn had taken Faramir's hand, "And so does she."

"She will forgive you." Faramir willed his certainty into the King.

"I will make sure I earn that forgiveness," Aragorn replied, "I am patient. And at least now I understand the depth of my mistake. I am haunted by how many potential friendships and advisors I have overlooked due to their being born women. Éowyn was the cruelest of my misunderstandings. Somehow, even in her moment of glory, proving everyone wrong, still I called her weak. She showed mercy where I do not think even I could have. She shepherded Rohan while her uncle was being poisoned by a man who was trying to claim her, whispering poison in her ears all the while. No. She is one I hope will be one of my closest advisors for the years of my reign."

Faramir smiled. Yes, the King finally understood the quality of Éowyn.

"Even today, she chastised me. It cut me so deeply it will cause a lasting wound," Aragorn continued, "I've been in love with the same woman for near 70 years, and trothplighted to her for 30. Her father said I could not marry her unless I was King - the only way he believed I would be worthy of her. And so, over all those years I quested after this station, solely so I could win her. Then with four words, Éowyn cut me down."

"What were her four words?" Faramir asked

"Women are not prizes," Aragorn shuddered again, and Faramir could feel his shame. again. "Gríma quested after Éowyn, making her the prize at the end of his machinations to destroy Rohan. I managed to treat Arwen, the woman I love, one who gave me her heart and promised herself to me, as if she were a prize that my Kingship won."

Faramir could feel the blood in his face rising. He knew Aragorn would be able to feel his fury, but he did not care. During the darkest nights when his fire dreams overwhelmed him, Faramir had half a mind to ride out alone to seek Gríma, to cut him down and send him to the underworld, where he belonged. Aragorn looked at Faramir, feeling his uncontrollable rage.

"She granted him a mercy he did not deserve," Faramir's fists clenched.

"Yet she protected her uncle from further shame, and she forced that despicable man into her debt for his life," Aragorn replied, and Faramir could feel Aragorn reaching into his mind, "And still you watch for him, don't you?"

"I do," Faramir was not sure he wanted Aragorn to know of his vigil, but there they were.

"He was in Isengard when we last parted, hiding with Saruman, being guarded by the Ents," Aragorn looked into Faramir, trying to calm him, "But I will ask Legolas to sketch the wretch. And we will make sure the guards of Minas Tirith know his face. We will keep our eyes open for him."

"Thank you," Faramir reached for Aragorn's hand, and squeezed it.

"What exactly did Wormtongue do?" Merry was looking at both suspiciously.

"He haunted her, and he hunted her," Faramir replied, "Beyond that, I would not break my beloved's trust. If you asked, I believe she would share Merry."

"Actually, I am not sure I want to know," Merry said, "It is enough to know that she is far away from the memories of that place and her cage."

The chill of guilt radiated from Aragorn, and all felt it.

"Strider, you need to stop feeling so bad, for I fear I will lose my appetite again before dessert," Merry huffed, "So many good things happened because of your bad decision. Éowyn let me ride with her to Gondor, so I could help my friends. And I got to watch her laugh in the face of that horrible Wraith - for she was the one who gave us all strength to fight through our fear. And I got to help kill the Nazgûl, the same one who grievously wounded Frodo. Now she found her true love in Faramir, whose heart would not have healed without her… so... don't do it again, but… thanks for doing it this time."

Something about Merry's incredulity finally broke through the guilt-laden moment, and all began to smile.

"...Betrothed for 30 years, and here I am fretting over the few months without Éowyn as my wife," Faramir mused.

"Arwen Undomiel. She looked like Lúthien come back to Middle Earth…" Merry gazed dreamily past them, seeing the Elven maiden in his mind.

But Aragorn was sad again, "I do not yet know if she will come. Arwen is asked to make the choice of Lúthien to be with me, forsaking her kin until the end of time. I ask her for so much simply to love me."

Faramir and Merry felt Aragorn's despair as a deep pit in their stomachs, so heavy it was.

"Yet you've waited for each other under the press of the Shadow," Faramir was thoughtful, "It matters not what deeds you have accomplished in trying to win her. If she has given you her heart, she will come, be you King or no. And it sounds as if you've surrendered your hearts to one another."

"She was really beautiful," Merry was lost in his own thoughts, "More beautiful than any others I have seen."

"If she is truly Lúthien reborn, then I say I am grateful that I prefer the golden light of the morning to the waning light of the eve," Faramir winked, and thought of the beautiful maiden he had kissed not an hour ago. He thought then of all the mornings of their lives, waking bathed in her light. Forever.

Aragorn laughed, and Faramir was certain he was laughing for the love both of them were feeling in that moment. It felt good. Faramir laid his hand back on Aragorn's, "trust her heart."

The rest of the evening was full of laughter and hope. Aragorn opened up about his own sorrows, of the press of expectations that stalked his every step. Of being hunted by Sauron and his spies. But also of how he fell in love, and the adventures that he'd had in order to prepare himself for becoming King. Faramir liked their bond, he liked being around Aragorn. Their friendship was inevitable. And he had hope, hope that sorrows could be healed. Hope that Éowyn would forgive, and Arwen would come.

Before they knew it, they had finished the dessert and a nice port from Denethor's hoard. Merry had said his goodbye, and headed back to his guesthouse. Aragorn lingered. Faramir could sense apprehension in the King.

"What causes your anxiety?" Faramir knew what attempting to sleep with a pit in your gut was like.

"I want to ask you…" the pit in their stomachs got more insistent, "would you consider… staying on as my Steward… after… coronation?"

Aragorn's butterflies reminded Faramir of what it had felt like asking Éowyn to accompany him that first day they met in the House of Healing. The King was nervous about asking for this. But Faramir had not considered it. He had always seen coronation as the end. As his escape into Ithilien to live in bliss with Éowyn.

"I would not deny my King," Faramir did not lie, and knew immediately that Aragorn sensed his apprehension.

"I am not yet King Faramir, tonight I am merely a man," Aragorn looked into Faramir's eyes, "What brings your doubt and formality? Tell me truly."

Faramir sighed, even if he was capable of lying to his King, the bond he felt with Aragorn the man would not allow him to.

"I dream of Ithilien Aragorn," Faramir admitted, "It may look to some a broken land, but all I see is its beauty, and its potential. Sometimes I think about resettling in Emyn Arnen, the former seat of the House of Húrin, so that I can make Ithilien whole."

"Have you spoken to Éowyn about your dreams?" Aragorn probed, and his interest was palpable.

"Yes, of course," Faramir replied, "She has plans to plant a garden, and establish a small House of Healing there."

Aragorn smiled deeply, and Faramir felt some resolve come over him.

"And if you were Steward and established in Ithilien?" Faramir thought he saw where this was going, but he did not allow himself to hope.

"I don't think I could ask for anything more," Faramir replied, "Though being Steward still feels like sitting in my father's chair. It does not fit me right."

"You will be a Steward under a King," Aragorn's voice was calm, but his hope was lapping at Faramir, "Your father's chair is no longer the right chair for the new Dawn. Every decision you have made has been the right decision. Down to confronting me in my bath. Your letter to Dale was mastery. Your decision to include Éowyn as a member of council was perfect. You took on a job never meant for you while I tarry and hide from my own responsibility. I want you by my side, and I want you to accept. Not because I am your King, but because I am your friend, and you recognize both my need and your quality."

Faramir was frozen. He nearly fell over. Aragorn, the King, and the man, who battled wills with the dead and Sauron was nearly begging him to be Steward. Aragorn had praised him in those moments in ways his own father had never praised him. It felt warm, but also chilling.

"Please give me a few days to think it over." was the best Faramir could do for the moment.

Aragorn smiled, and nodded. Faramir could feel disappointment, but also hope.

"I will ask you again in 2 days, and I hope to have your decision by then," Aragorn said, ""Thank you… for this evening, and this morning. You truly are a remarkable man."

With that, Aragorn was gone. Faramir looked around his big empty house. The Steward's House. His father's house. He sighed, tonight would be a night of fire dreams.

Then he remembered.

Faramir sprinted up the stairs, directly into his office and looked out his window. A single candle was in Éowyn's window. Faramir grabbed his own candle, and placed it into the window too. The candle in Éowyn's window immediately extinguished.

Faramir grabbed his dagger and dropped it into its sheath, then nearly tripped down the stairs in his haste. 30 seconds at a sprint to her apartment. He had timed it. Before she had made it out her own door, he was there. Éowyn backed back into her apartment, and Faramir followed her in.

"Tell me your sorrows min elskede," Faramir said, and they closed the door behind them.