Faramir's scent lingered on her pillow, and she breathed in its last remnants. He'd stayed up all night so she could find her slumber. She wanted to call upon him every night to help her sleep, but that was unsustainable. Yet, she wondered if he would get sleep on his own. Perhaps she would stay awake tonight to give Faramir his chance at slumber. He will never sleep at night, even with me there, Éowyn frowned. But perhaps…
She knew what she was going to do.
Éowyn dressed quickly, then braided her hair as an elven warrior. Faramir's comment about Lothíriel cutting off her hair to demand to be taken seriously had been her inspiration. Council over the Book of the Dead would convene that morning; she knew that she needed to make it clear why she was there. Éomer never would argue, but she wanted to make sure that neither would Aragorn. Her own uncle was in that book. Gamling was in that book. Éowyn wanted to be there to see what the combined resources of Rohan and Gondor could do for her fallen warriors. Éowyn looked one more time around her apartment, then opened her door.
As if he had been waiting for her, Éowyn heard Éomer's door open.
"Sister!" he was out the door, surprising both herself and a waiting Beregil.
"Good morning brother," Éowyn smiled placidly at Éomer, and noted that although he carried a smile, a small vein in Éomer's forehead was bulging, "Would you care to join me for breakfast? Faramir has invited us both."
"First dear sister, a word," Éomer was trying so hard to be calm, and Éowyn knew that her amused look was not helping anything.
"Of course, join me in my apartment?" Éowyn would not let herself laugh. Éomer was right to be concerned. It was endearing.
Éomer nodded, and they headed back into her apartment. As soon as the door shut, Éomer closed the distance between them.
"What the devil were you up to last night?" Éomer rasped.
"I would ask you the same thing," Éowyn could tell her smile was unraveling her brother, as his face was rapidly reddening.
"I- uh- I saw her to her door and no further," Éomer stuttered, but he did not lower his gaze.
"Since he haunted my bedroom door, I have gotten perhaps two nights of sleep uninterrupted by fits. One of those was last night. He would not fall asleep in my bed. He sat guard over me while I slept. And I slept the night without nightmares," Éowyn smiled inwardly, letting her love for Faramir wash over her.
"He… stayed awake all night?" Éomer's face was still red, but Éowyn could see his indignation breaking.
"Yes," Éowyn replied.
Éomer sighed, "That all men would have as much honor as your fiancé."
Éowyn laughed heartily.
"I still will have my say when we spar," Éomer retorted.
"I know brother. Perhaps I should also spar with Lothíriel then?" Éowyn's eyes twinkled.
Éomer's color did not improve with her mention of the Dol Amroth princess. Indeed, it became darker. But Éowyn also saw the inward smile that Éomer was desperately trying to hide.
"Let us walk to the Steward's and break our fast. And please tell me about your evening," Éowyn threaded her arm through Éomer's, and started leading him to the door. Éomer did not resist.
"Tell me about her," Éowyn whispered as they walked out the door.
"She's… she's…" Éomer was red, "She was not what I expected."
"Is that so?" Éowyn let her voice sound light. She wanted to coax Éomer to speak truly.
"I- I- could see us. Our future," Éomer's words were thoughtful, shy, "Our children. Galloping through the fields with her."
Éowyn tried to recover from the stun Éomer's words had caused, but she did not recover quickly enough. Éomer noticed, and seemed more sheepish than he had even previously, "She… showed me her favorite place in the city."
Éowyn cleared her throat, "where did she take you?"
"To the white tree," Éomer replied, "She only likes that place at night, because the tree reflects the stars. It gives her hope."
Éowyn pulled her smitten brother closer to her. She could feel his hope when he said the word. So Faramir's instinct had been correct.
"...She kissed me…" Éomer's red color returned, "Well, on the cheek. What do you think that means?"
"What do you think it means?" Éowyn asked him. She felt her smile get bigger.
"I… she… Do you think..?" Éomer was having trouble forming words, and turned to look desperately at Éowyn.
"I think it means what you think it means," Éowyn looked into his eyes, and saw their unmistakable twinkle, "I think she felt for you what you felt for her yesterday."
Éomer's smile was as bright as she'd ever seen it. It was the smile of the boy she remembered, before he was forced to become a man so much earlier than he should have. Éowyn liked seeing the wonder return to his eyes, and hoped that Lothíriel would bring that out of him for the rest of his life. She kissed him, thought Éowyn, I daresay I will have a new sister. As they arrived at Faramir's door, Éomer stiffened again.
"Remember brother, the man on the other side of that door stayed awake all night so your beloved sister could sleep soundly," Éowyn cooed in his ear, "And it seems you are starting to understand the sort of love that would compel one to do so."
Éomer reddened again, but his expression softened. The door opened, and Faramir answered. He'd shaved, and looked impeccable, but Éowyn saw the hollows under his eyes. Yes, she would implement her plan that very afternoon.
"Your hair," Faramir looked at Éowyn's warrior braid, causing Éomer to finally take notice too.
"Who do you intend to intimidate sister?" Éomer was amused.
"Lothíriel gave me the idea," Éowyn smiled conspiratorially at Faramir, "Perhaps sometimes we must remind friends and allies as much as enemies to look at our person, and not our sex."
Faramir snickered, and Éomer looked intensely at Éowyn.
"Please tell me what Lothíriel did to inspire such a thing," Éomer pleaded.
"She cut off her hair, in protest of being treated like a girl," Faramir replied, bright smile upon his face. Éomer's blush returned.
"Seems Lothíriel and I have more in common than we supposed brother," Éowyn was enjoying herself far too much.
"Well… yeah," Éomer was beet red again, "If she wants to braid her hair, or cut it off. She can. So can you."
Éowyn turned to Éomer and pulled him in for a hug, "All should be so lucky as to have a brother like you."
Éowyn wondered if Éomer could feel her will her love into him. Éomer pulled her in closer.
"Okay, enough for now. I am ready to break my fast with two of the men in this world I love most," Éowyn broke apart from Éomer, and took Faramir's hand in hers.
"In the garden," Faramir smiled.
"Try to get much of your work finished in the morning min elskede. I will call on you this afternoon." Éowyn was firm.
Faramir looked at Éowyn, puzzled. Éowyn kept her face serene. Éomer was staring at both of them as well, and Éowyn did not want their breakfast interrupted by her brother's protectiveness. Faramir seemed to understand, and simply nodded.
"Éomer, I also want to hear more about your evening with Lothíriel," Éowyn was pushing her luck, but she truly wanted to know more about the woman her brother was so clearly falling for.
"Uh… she's funny," Éomer was red, but he was smiling. So was Faramir.
Éomer told them that he and Lothíriel went secretly into the city, dressed as commoners of Rohan and Gondor, and shared ale at a pub. Talking about their dreams and their families. Lothíriel had brought coin to make sure they could pay and go unnoticed, and had bribed the band to play Ballad of the Shieldmaiden. Éowyn could feel Éomer's comfort, his love. She found Faramir's hand under the table and squeezed it. Her brother had found what she had found. In the same remarkable family. When Éomer got to Lothíriel leading him to the white tree, they could see the stars in his eyes.
"She always had hope that many in her family did not always share," Faramir was still holding Éowyn's hand, and she could feel warmth and light radiating from him, "I'm very happy for you brother."
"Well, it's not. It's nothing… yet." Éomer stuttered, "Just … a nice evening. is all."
Éomer was fooling no one.
The breakfast came to an end, and Faramir excused himself to find the ledger and books needed for the council. Éowyn and Éomer kept their seats at the table.
"What are you doing this afternoon," Éomer asked in Rohirric.
"Returning Faramir's favor. I will bring my work to this garden and demand he sleep." Éowyn replied. There was no use in hiding the truth, as a hidden truth would only encourage Éomer's imagination.
"Just you..?"
"Brother, it will be the middle of the day with his staff hurrying about. Speaking of which…" Éowyn got up, leaving Éomer alone in the garden to find Faramir's butler. She whispered instructions that when she called on Faramir in the afternoon, no one was to disturb his slumber. The butler nodded, clearly understanding. So it is not just me who knows the fair Steward does not get sleep, Éowyn thought.
Éomer's arms were crossed and his lips were pursed. She sat down, this time next to him.
"Éomer, where is this surge in protectionism coming from?" Éowyn stared at him, still speaking in Rohirric.
"I- I trust you sister, and I even trust him," Éomer replied, "It's just. I'm not used to… you. Being happy. Seeking out these types of things. I could not protect your reputation when that thing hunted you, and… I fear… what happens now if…"
Éowyn smiled, as it had not dawned on her that his surge of protectiveness was not about mistrust, but instead his own feelings of powerlessness when no one would listen to him speak of what really happened in the stables, including the poisoned Théoden. Éowyn hugged him tightly.
"It is different brother. Everything is different," Éowyn whispered, leaning her forehead to his, "Our traumas are best healed together, as they are kindred. The more time we are together, the more whole we become. Someday that will no longer be necessary, but for now, we need each other."
Éomer nodded, and a tear had formed in his eye, "I will never forgive myself for not protecting you."
Éowyn snorted, "I will repeat it until it does not need repeating brother. You did protect me. You gave me the skills to be my own protection. I would die before someone could take me by force, and more likely, I would kill them in the process. And without my despair, without that cage, I would not be here. I would not have been able to protect you from the Nazgûl. I would not have found love."
Éomer looked at Éowyn, and she saw his dawning realization. She pressed, "Do you not think I wanted as desperately to protect you as you me?"
Éomer looked into Éowyn's eyes, "And you did. You protected me. You protected our uncle from humiliation. You protected our people."
"Don't forget that as you lead brother. Women want to protect their loved ones just as much as men do," Éowyn said it with resolve, and hoped she was right. She knew she was, at least, for her.
Faramir had returned, his hands piled with books. The black ledger was the most massive in his arms.
"So much death," the words were out of Éowyn's mouth before she could contain them. Éomer nodded.
"And we will honor every one of their memories, and support all they left behind," the voice was deep. Imrahil's.
Éomer darted out of his seat, standing at attention. Both Éowyn and Imrahil broke out in laughter. Imrahil headed to the King and clapped him on the back, then pulled him in for a hug.
"I daresay that now, when we are not obligated by formal occasions, forever and always will you be friend," Imrahil's eyes twinkled, and Éowyn could hear emotion in the Prince's voice.
He must know too, she thought, and smiled. Imrahil had then turned, and was studying Éowyn's hair.
"I wondered who had braided my nephew's hair in such a fashion," Imrahil marveled, "Now I know who has the skill. It looks… aweing Éowyn."
"As was my intention Prince," Éowyn grinned, "Inspiration came from your own daughter."
Imrahil looked puzzled, but as Faramir laughed, it dawned on him.
"Ah yes. Lothíriel's dagger," Imrahil's voice was grave, but his eyes twinkled ever the brighter, "If I remember correctly, severe punishments were doled out for that one. To all. Save for Lothíriel."
"And we never disregarded her again," Faramir jumped in.
Imrahil had joined the laughter.
"Your hair looks refreshing, and I fear you may have some requests come your way for coronation. I believe even under a circlet, we would look lordly," Imrahil chuckled.
"I will consider it," Éowyn winked, then she turned her attention back to the black ledgers, "But for now, it looks like there are more pressing things than celebrating a King…"
Suddenly Éowyn felt a lurch in her gut. She looked up. Aragorn stood in the door. His timing was remarkable.
"Éowyn is absolutely right," Aragorn's tone was somber, "The cost of our victory was great, and the fallen deserve far more celebration than me."
Éowyn tried closing herself off to Aragorn's emotions. But they had changed, even since last night's confrontation. The guilt, though still present, had subsided immensely, and was replaced with inimitable optimism, but also sadness.
"I think it is time to begin," Faramir sighed, and sat down, then opened the black ledger, "I counted 3,000 men of Gondor, 300 of Dol Amroth and 3,000 of Rohan amongst the dead. The House of Healing is currently treating some 200, and I believe an additional 1,500 have sustained injuries."
Gamling and my uncle, Éowyn thought, and she could feel her grief, and Aragorn's. This grief though, it was not the black grief that drew her into the shadow mists. It was a grief borne of love, rather than of despair and desperation. It was the clean grief of crying with Faramir in his study. Éowyn found Éomer's hand under the table, and took it. She could feel him trembling.
"Are the names separated based on their homelands nephew?" Imrahil was the first to speak.
"No. But those who recorded their names were careful to mark their banners," Faramir replied, and Éowyn could hear the trembling in his voice. She wanted to go to him. But she couldn't, not with Éomer's hand in hers. Suddenly, she fixed her eyes on Aragorn's.
Give him the comfort I currently cannot, she doubted he could understand her words, but her gaze had caught his attention, and she could feel his confusion in her gut. She shot a glance at Faramir, then fixed her eyes on his once more, and she knew he had understood what she needed him to do. An overpowering sense of comfort came over her, and she knew it was Aragorn's will. Faramir paused, and looked at both of them. She suspected Faramir knew. But she would do anything it took to protect him from his fire dreams. A wrinkle had appeared at the corner of Aragorn's eye, and she recognized that one of the barriers that had stood between them had broken. Her hand remained in Éomer's.
"I should like the lands of the soldiers to be inherited by their widows and eldest born," Éowyn spoke up, commanding the attention of the council, "So many men have died, there will now be families that are simply without, and I would not see schemers come and take advantage of a widow or daughter's tears."
All looked at her, but Éowyn did not bow her head. Haunted looks appeared on Éomer, Aragorn, and Faramir's faces, and she knew they understood. Gríma.
"Yes," Aragorn spoke first, and Éowyn sensed… admiration, "I should not want the grieving to suffer more than they already have. And for soldiers who were promised lands for service, so we shall deliver it to their families."
"Seconded," Éomer spoke clearly, and squeezed Éowyn's hand. Éowyn smiled.
"You will forever amaze me Éowyn," it was Imrahil, "I daresay I had not thought about that. And yet, now that it is said, I see no other way."
Éowyn chanced a glance at Faramir, who was beaming at her. She knew he wanted to kiss her. She was glad the table separated them, because she would have done it.
The hours that ensued were full of discussions of monetary compensations, what each soldier's family would get in terms of land and stock, as well as honors. It became clear quickly the relative levels of support between the two allied nations were not equal. But then as before, Gondor's King and Steward spoke as one.
"We will pool all compensation and resources. All of it. Soldiers of both great nations will benefit from the bounty of the new age. They all delivered us, and so we shall deliver them," Faramir looked at Éomer, silently pleading with him to take what was offered.
"We can take care of our own," said Éomer. There it was, his pride. Éowyn rolled her eyes. She was about to retort but something stilled her voice.
"I know that to be the truth Éomer King, and yet, Gondor could not. Gondor needed Rohan or they would have fallen. Your men paid with their lives for our bounty. And so our bounty is as much their bounty as it is our own soldiers'," Faramir spoke gently. Perfectly.
Éomer stilled, and sighed. Éowyn whispered in his ear in Rohirric, "Our people suffered so much loss fighting the enemy in Gondor. Let our people know how deep Gondor's gratitude runs. This will not be seen as charity, but instead as the ultimate thank you for our deeds. We shared in their losses, and so we share in their thanks."
Éomer shook his head, "What will I do without my sister to stay my pride?"
"You will then have another who I am sure will do the same," Éowyn grinned and Éomer blushed. When Éowyn looked around the council, Imrahil seemed to be the only one not following the conversation.
"So, at least two of you now speak Rohirric?" Éowyn looked at the smiles on the Steward and the King.
"I should start to study the language myself," Imrahil mused. Éowyn suspected she knew what that meant.
Finally, all was settled. The payments of gratitude were agreed to for each family of the fallen. 10 gold pieces and a parcel of land in any territory they desired: Gondor or Rohan. Each had also claimed their dead. The arduous process of writing to the families would start immediately, though Éowyn and Éomer would need to wait until they made it back to Rohan proper to begin visiting with the mourning families. And that would not be until Aragorn's coronation. Faramir promised each of them scribes to write the letters.
"We could perhaps ask the artisan who fashioned this wonderful clay seal for me to fashion others for Dol Amroth and Rohan," Faramir winked at Éowyn, then turned to Aragorn, "Please ask Legolas if he would consent."
"I believe he will, but I shall ask," Aragorn replied, and Éowyn could feel his contentment.
Finally, all was done. Éomer excused himself to go and get a nap (though Éowyn suspected he needed to go back to his apartment to mourn alone), and Imrahil headed back to his house. Éowyn noticed that Aragorn lingered, and something told her that he was lingering for the two of them.
"Faramir, one more thing," Aragorn asked, and Éowyn could sense his nerves, "I think it is time for me to move myself into the city, to be amongst our people. Might I trouble you for housing?"
Faramir smiled, as if he had been expecting this question, "Let me know your preference, as the King's quarters are still being refurbished for your return. You may either stay in the Steward's House, or I can prepare quarters near to the rest of our honorable guests."
Éowyn's stomach dropped. Aragorn turned to her the moment her stomach lurched, and she knew he sensed it. She was not sure what to say. She was still getting used to the presence of the man who knew everything about her pain, and was the cause of some of it. And she sensed that proximity to him would keep the connection of their emotions open. She was not sure that she liked that option, though the Steward's House was near worse, given how much time she spent there with Faramir. No. It was time for her to stop her despair and face her future. Wife of Faramir meant proximity to the King. It was inevitable. Éowyn found the right words.
"I fear that if you choose the guest quarters, a certain set of Hobbits may drop in on you unexpectedly," Éowyn kept her voice steady, but her eyes twinkled, and so did Aragorn's. He could feel her acceptance. And she could feel his relief.
"Your offer is exceptionally kind Faramir, and the guest quarters sound the best. If in part because I suspect another set of eyes on Merry and Pippin may be called for," Aragorn smiled fully then.
Suddenly, Éowyn felt a shadow pass through Aragorn. She looked and saw that he was feeling something in Faramir. The two men made eye contact. Éowyn wondered what they were thinking about, but some understanding seemed to come over Aragorn.
"He's still in Isengard," Aragorn said the words to both of them. They knew who he meant. Gríma.
"How do you know?" Faramir's eyes were keen, with some unspoken challenge to Aragorn.
"I looked into my palantír, to see my beloved and see if she would come," Aragorn admitted, "Then I turned my attention to find him. If only to help you both find solace."
But when Aragorn spoke the word palantír, his gut lurched and nearly made Éowyn sick. What had happened? Then she saw the haunted look in Faramir's eyes. And the expression spread like a black mist to Aragorn as well.
"The last act before Denethor tried to burn me alive was looking into one of those vile things. It destroyed him, rotting him from the inside out. I hope that cursed stone stays buried with him for eternity." there was finality, and there was anger in Faramir's words. And Éowyn knew he was living his fire dream. Right then.
Faramir walked back into the house. And Éowyn was nearly overwhelmed with Aragorn's horror. No, she thought, your horror will not overwhelm me, and she willed Aragorn away. She then walked up to the forlorn King and took his hand in hers.
"Thank you for seeking my tormenter, so you could ensure that Faramir and I were safe," Éowyn looked into Aragorn's haunted eyes, willing him to understand, "Faramir will find his healing. He is just not there yet. Take your leave and move to the guest quarters, I promise I will take care of the Steward."
Éowyn patted his hand, and Aragorn turned and left, glancing back one more time. Éowyn felt his anguish fade as he disappeared out the door. She then immediately turned to find where Faramir had gone. His office, it was the only place.
Éowyn ascended the stairs and found Faramir in his father's chair, looking darker than she had seen him in a long time. She walked decisively up to him, then kneeled at his side.
"Tell me your sorrows min elskede," Éowyn said.
Faramir's hand was on his face, and she could see that it was trembling.
"I... just remember that faint light in his tower. He'd given up hope, and turned to that damned thing to see a way out. Sauron twisted his mind through that stone…" Faramir was pressing on his forehead so hard the spot below his fingers had turned white, "He had it with him when he burned himself alive..."
Éowyn stood up and pulled Faramir up and to her. She put her arms around him, protecting him as best she could. She caressed his neck, and waited. Faramir finally let out one great tremor, and his tears sprang forth. Éowyn just held him while he cried, in anger, in grief, in confusion. Éowyn whispered her love in his ear. But mostly, she just listened to him. She would always be his safe refuge. When he needed to break down, she was there to catch him and help him pick up his pieces.
"You are not your father. Aragorn is not your father. Sauron is defeated. And in your despair, you need only to turn to me. I will always be there for you." Éowyn kissed Faramir's neck as she said it, willing her love into him, "If any errant Nazgûl needs a good slaying, you have your own personal Wraithbane."
It had its intended effect, and Faramir laughed. Éowyn then looked at the chair, and she knew what she was going to do.
"I love you me'a en' coiamin," Faramir started kissing her back.
"Do you trust me?" Éowyn looked into her Steward's eyes.
"With my everything," Faramir replied.
"Open that window. All the way." Éowyn replied.
Faramir did as asked. Éowyn took in a deep breath and heaved the Steward's chair over her side. She walked purposefully over to the window, looked down, and thrust it out. The loud shatter startled both of them, and Faramir's look of shock quickly turned into a look of utter amusement.
"You just threw my chair out the window," Faramir's face was pale.
"I threw your father's chair out the window. It never fit you." Éowyn replied matter-of-factly, "Rohan is happy to reimburse the damage done by their Princess."
"Oi!" the voice was out the window, and Éowyn and Faramir looked down to see Aragorn and Éomer standing outside slightly out of breath, looking at the wreckage.
"Brother, I think we will need to find the Steward a new chair," Éowyn called down, "This one appears to be broken beyond repair."
Éomer looked flabbergasted. Aragorn wore an immense grin. Éowyn could sense his relief.
"...Just a chair?" Éomer was still baffled, but decided not to interrogate further.
"Yes. Well, for today." Éowyn grinned, and felt Faramir's hand find hers.
Faramir was the first to laugh. Éomer just rolled his eyes.
"I hope he likes horsehair." Éomer snorted, then both Aragorn and he turned to head back to the guest quarters, speaking softly but animatedly.
"Éomer wanted to finish that sentence by saying 'because you have yourself a horse's arse'," Éowyn laughed merrily, "We often used horsehair as shorthand for that."
"You threw my chair out the window," Faramir was still repeating himself, but Éowyn could hear the joy returning to his voice, "Min elskede, at some point you will run out of things to break to bring me back from my despair."
"I will have a larger suite of healing methods once we are married," Éowyn made sure Faramir could see the fire in her eyes when she said it, "And you underestimate the size of my bag of tricks."
Faramir grabbed her and pulled her to him, and groaned into her mouth as they kissed. Yes, Faramir had marked the fire in her eyes.
"Every moment we are together and not married is the sweetest torture," Faramir said between kisses.
"For me too min elskede," Éowyn kissed him one last time, "Now, I will call upon you this afternoon. Keep it open and free of work. For now, please go and take care of the Steward's affairs at Prince Imrahil's. Tell him your fiancée threw your chair out the window. I love you, but I must be off to the House of Healing."
Éowyn let herself have one more lingering kiss with her raven-haired Steward, then left. She walked home briskly to change into her healer's apprentice outfit. She looked up and saw Faramir's window. There would be no more vigils awaiting Gríma Wormtongue. Aragorn had given Éowyn that solace. Their windows were now only for them, and their candles.