My Leo Venus is acting up but Bloom by The Paper Kites is such a cute song for this chapter. Now, back to yearning…
Chapter 40: When the Sunbeams Kissed His Face
"Let's see." Toven leaned back against the trunk of the tree. "When you say something is cool, that means it's good or interesting."
He was eating lunch with Éowyn and Faramir under a shady beech they'd unofficially designated as their meeting spot. Éowyn had asked him to teach them some of the terms he'd learned from Quinn, so he was trying to start with the less vulgar ones.
Faramir tilted his head, mulling over the explanation. "I have a book of Númenorean poetry that is cool."
Toven snorted a laugh. "That's correct usage, actually."
"There was something your mother said at the feast last night," Éowyn said. "What is a Powerpoint?"
"Oh." He scratched his head. "Honestly, I don't know. It's something from her world. Sometimes it's just easier to pretend I understand what she's talking about."
"She said something else." Faramir exchanged a glance with Éowyn. "She called us your boyfriend and girlfriend. What does that mean?"
"Um." He bit the inside of his cheek, his face growing hot. "I-It's another thing from her world."
"But you know what it means," Éowyn said, a smirk growing on her face.
He sighed in defeat. "It refers to someone you have a…a romantic connection with."
"It is a fitting word, then," Faramir said.
Toven nodded. He wasn't sure why he was so flustered. The three of them had already spoken about the nature of their relationship, and had agreed to continue the way things were as a sort of experiment. Acknowledging it out loud after the fact was more intense than he'd expected.
"Does Quinn have a word for…when there are three?" Éowyn asked.
"She might," Toven said. "I haven't asked her yet, but I'm sure she'll mention it eventually." He had a feeling now that they had made things somewhat official, Quinn was going to be insufferable about it.
They finished their meal in peace. Toven taught them a few more phrases, and Éowyn made him promise to tell them some stories from Quinn's world. Merry and Pippin joined them briefly, bringing news of their adventure fishing on the banks of the river, then ran off to find the other two hobbits.
"There is something I want to show you," Faramir said that afternoon. He turned his gaze from Toven to Éowyn. "But it is not an easy journey, and you are not yet recovered from your injuries."
Toven raised an eyebrow. "Where exactly are we going?"
"It's not far, but the paths are meant for Rangers."
Faramir's evasiveness sparked his curiosity, and Toven glanced at Éowyn.
"I am no woodsman, and I would prefer to have use of both my arms before I attempt to follow any Ranger-trails," she said with a smile. "I trust you will find time to take me there once I am fully recovered."
"Of course, my lady." Faramir kissed her cheek and stood up. "Toven?"
"You have me intrigued." He pushed himself up and waved to Éowyn. "We'll be back in a few hours. Make sure no one burns down the camp while we're gone."
She laughed and waved as they disappeared into the forest.
"Are you sure you'll be all right?" Toven asked as they walked. "With your shoulder…"
"You don't have to worry," Faramir said. "I know these woods well."
"So, where are we going? You said the paths are meant for Rangers, so I'm assuming it's a hideout or camp of sorts."
"Perhaps."
"You're being very secretive about this." Toven quickened his pace so they were walking side by side and nudged Faramir with his shoulder. "Do I have reason to be concerned?"
"There is much secrecy around the refuges of the Rangers of Ithilien." Faramir gave him a meaningful look. "Under normal circumstances, I would have to blindfold you before leading you along these paths."
Toven met his stare. "If you were to blindfold me, I would be tripping every other step, Ranger or not."
"I would make sure you did not trip," Faramir said with a smile. He grasped Toven's hand and pulled him through a narrow opening between two trees.
Blushing, Toven held on and let Faramir lead him through the forest. He moved nimbly, barely leaving a trace of his passage. They passed over stones or down animal trails, gradually heading uphill.
Toven pushed a low-hanging branch out of his way, trying to make his footsteps match Faramir's. "Can I ask you something?"
"What is it?"
"How did you become Captain of the Rangers? Aragorn's position was handed down to him from his father, but…"
"No, that was not the case for me." A hint of melancholy was audible in his voice. "I wanted to learn to fight, but I found myself more suited to being a Ranger than a soldier in Gondor's army."
"It feels safer, doesn't it?" Toven said, and a look of understanding passed between them. It was thrilling and comforting at the same time to finally be able to share that with someone else.
"I worked hard to become strong and protect these lands," Faramir continued. "Boromir always said I had a good mind for strategy, and it became advantageous to us more than once. It was just as well, because our old Captain was reaching his elder years. He was a good man, but his mind was not as sharp as it once was. He began to defer to me, helped me gain the loyalty of the other Rangers. So I suppose, in a way, the position was handed down to me."
"But you earned it." Toven smiled slightly. "You must have been young. I'm sure your men wouldn't have followed you without a good reason."
Faramir didn't meet his eyes. "I was unable to stop the steady retreat we'd been making in past years. We lost the east bank of the river and more men than I could count under my command. My father took all of this as proof that I was not worthy of the position, as he'd always suspected."
"Hey." Toven grasped his arm, halting his footsteps. He had to bite his tongue to keep angry words at bay. He wasn't one to speak ill about the recently deceased. "You were fighting a battle you couldn't have won. None of us could have won this if it hadn't been for Frodo and Sam. You helped them along their path, and who knows if another would have done that in your position? Don't…Don't repeat all the things your father said to you."
The sorrow didn't fully leave his expression, and Toven knew the insecurities that had been planted by Faramir's father were rooted deep. It would take time for him to heal.
"Thank you, Toven." Faramir took his hand and squeezed it. "I will remember your words."
"Good." They began walking again, side by side. Perhaps he could help Faramir begin to think differently of himself. "Perhaps you could tell me some stories about your genius with strategy."
The sun began to set as they talked, painting the new leaves gold above them. Toven didn't doubt Faramir's ability to navigate the forest, but he was beginning to realize this wasn't just a short stroll—not to mention they hadn't brought weapons or supplies with them.
"How much farther is it?"
Faramir glanced behind them, seeming to realize the time himself, and gestured for Toven to quicken his pace. "It isn't far."
"Why the hurry?" he asked as they began to jog up the hillside. "Are these parts dangerous at night?"
"You'll see." He didn't sound particularly concerned, so Toven shrugged and followed him.
The noise of falling water, which had kept at a dull roar for some time, grew louder. Tall, stony cliffs rose from the forest, and Faramir led him to a rock face skirted by pines. As they drew closer, Toven realized that one section of the rock face overlapped the other, and between was a narrow entrance invisible except at a certain angle.
Faramir took his hand again and pulled him through the darkness. "I hope we are not too late."
"Late for what, exactly?" Toven asked, trying to hide his laugh. "Do you have a troupe of traveling performers hidden away in this cave? Are they going to put on a show for—oh."
They entered a larger cavern, and his gaze was immediately drawn to the shimmering glow on the far wall. It took him a moment to realize there was no wall, but rather a cascading sheet of water over the cave entrance. Through the opening, the sunset was visible, and the red and gold light was refracted into a multitude of color, turning the falling droplets into shining jewels.
They stood in silence for a long moment, watching the gleam of the sun beyond the water.
"That is…impressive," Toven said, finally finding his voice. "Thank you for bringing me here."
"Now you see why I was anxious to reach this place before the sun set," Faramir said with a shy smile. He turned and gestured to the rest of the cave. "This is Henneth Annûn, the Window of the Sunset, and refuge of the Rangers of Ithilien."
The rest of the cavern was plainly furnished with boxes and barrels of supplies, some of which were topped with half-melted candles. There were a few tunnels presumably leading to other parts of the cave system.
"This place was emptied to reinforce Osgiliath before it fell," Faramir said. "Normally there are at least half a dozen men here."
"The Rangers of the North would be lucky to have a cave as our refuge," Toven said, and nodded to the waterfall. "Not to mention a view like that."
"Then perhaps you would be persuaded to join us."
Toven looked up. "Really?"
"We will need help in cleansing these forests for good, and we would be fortunate to have a man of your skill in our ranks."
That is an obvious bit of flattery, but…it's working. "Is that why you brought me here, then? To show me the luxuries the Rangers to the south have been afforded?"
Faramir's lips twitched. "That may have been the case if we spent our days lounging about in this cavern. But this place has other advantages, for the moment."
It finally sank in what Faramir had said earlier—the caves had been emptied weeks earlier, and for now, it was just the two of them.
Heat tingled on his cheeks and down his neck. It was just the two of them. He wasn't sure what Faramir intended, or what he himself wanted. He felt uncomfortably speechless, and too nervous to move.
His anxiety must have showed on his face, and Faramir's brows lowered. "Toven?"
"What, um…" He struggled to master himself. "What did you have in mind, exactly?"
"I would like to kiss you again," Faramir said softly. "If that is what you want."
"All right." Nerves still fluttered in his chest, and he took a calming breath. He did want this, and hearing Faramir say it out loud was something of a comfort.
Gently, Faramir placed one hand on his cheek and leaned in. The tension in his limbs dissolved at the feather-light touch of Faramir's lips, and Toven moved to deepen the kiss. His hands reached out, almost of their own accord, to grasp Faramir's waist and pull him closer.
The last shining rays of the sunset touched his face, but he was far more occupied with a different heat, a greater light in the trust he shared with the man in his arms.
They spent the night in Henneth Annûn. It was more akin to the rugged lifestyle Toven was used to—sleeping on thin bedrolls and dining on travel rations—but he couldn't have been happier in a four-poster bed or a king's dining hall. The two of them huddled together amidst a handful of lit candles and shared stories and secrets. Faramir found a bottle of wine hidden among the supplies and they alternated sips between kisses.
The next morning, they headed back to camp in high spirits, dew glistening on the grass as the sun warmed their backs. But they hadn't yet reached the edge of the forest before they caught sight of a figure moving between the trees.
Faramir motioned for him to stop, but Toven had already halted and put a hand on his hip—only to remember he'd left his sword back at camp.
"Who is out there?" Faramir called. "Reveal yourself!"
They both relaxed when Boromir came into sight, though it was short-lived as he came charging up the slope towards them, moving swiftly despite wearing his full gear.
"There you are." He swept Faramir into a crushing embrace and glanced at Toven. "Are either of you hurt?"
"No." Toven frowned. "Why do you ask?"
Boromir released his brother and began looking him over anyway. "No one has seen you since yesterday. We have been searching the woods for hours."
"Oh, shit," Toven groaned.
"Did Éowyn not tell you we were headed into the woods?" Faramir asked.
"Well, we didn't tell her we'd be gone overnight," Toven muttered.
Boromir drew back, seeming to realize they hadn't been in any life-threatening danger. His expression darkened. "So you decided to disappear into the woods, weaponless, with no indication of where you were going."
"It was my suggestion," Faramir said. "I took him to see Henneth Annûn. It is my fault that we were not properly prepared."
Toven opened his mouth to protest, but Boromir only gave them a gruff nod and gestured for them to start walking back to camp. He let out a sigh and fell into step next to Faramir, feeling like a guilty child.
The camp was in disarray when they returned, but it wasn't due to their disappearance. People were packing up, disassembling the tents and loading goods onto carts. Quinn broke through the chaos and ran to meet them.
"Oh, thank god you found them." She wrapped an arm around Toven's shoulders and squeezed tightly. "The hell happened? You guys get lost, or something?"
"They spent the night at one of the Rangers' hideouts without telling anyone," Boromir said, bluntly enough to make Toven wince. "Have Legolas and Gimli returned yet?"
"No. I'll go find them in a bit. You go help everyone pack up." She turned back to Toven as Boromir walked away. "Look, I'm all for a romantic getaway, but you really scared the shit out of us."
"I know," Toven said, his face burning. "I'm sorry."
Quinn hugged him more gently. "I'm just glad you're all right." She pointed at Faramir. "I expect better from you, though. At least tell me you gave him a good time."
"For fuck's sake…" Toven removed her arm from his shoulders. "We're both alive. That's all you need to know."
"Fine, fine." She held up her hands in surrender. "I got all your stuff packed up, by the way. We're sailing down to Osgiliath soon, so just meet me by the bank when you're ready."
As she walked away, Toven rubbed a hand over his face and turned to Faramir. "That was stupid of us, huh?"
"It was my fault," Faramir said, embarrassment staining his own cheeks. "I was not thinking clearly."
"I don't think either of us were." A small smile flickered on his lips. "For what it's worth, I enjoyed myself."
Faramir's expression softened, but then his gaze shifted to something over Toven's shoulder. He turned around to see Éowyn striding towards them, breathless relief on her face. She embraced them both in turn, then stepped back with a fierce gaze that demanded explanation.
"I'm sorry for making you worry," Toven said. "We just lost track of time. We didn't mean to leave you out—"
"I do not care about that," Éowyn said, her gaze flickering between their faces. "I feared for your safety, and with war and death so near in my memory…"
Faramir stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her as her voice wavered. She leaned against his chest and clutched at his shoulder with her free hand. After a moment's hesitation, Toven wrapped his arms around the both of them.
"All right," he said after a while, making Éowyn lift her head. "Next time we decide to disappear into the woods for the night, you're coming with us."
Her deadpan expression dissolved into a laugh. "You will certainly need to bring someone with some common sense with you."
"Then it is settled," Faramir said, looking at her affectionately. "We will go no further without our Lady Shieldmaiden."
"Speaking of, we'd best make our way to those ships." Toven gestured to the white sails visible on the river. "I didn't think we'd be returning to Minas Tirith so soon."
"I believe a good portion of our supplies were depleted during the feast," Éowyn said as the three of them began walking across camp. "And the people are eager to see the coronation of their new king."
"That'll be interesting. I'm so used to seeing Aragorn with at least a week's worth of grime on him, and now he's about to be dressed in the finest garments Gondor has to offer."
"Toven," Éowyn said in mock admonishment. "That is no way to speak about royalty."
"So, when he rode into Helm's Deep with blood and river muck on him, did you think, I can almost see the crown upon his head?"
Her laughter rang across the camp as they reached the bank, where supplies were being taken to the ships. Toven noticed Éomer watching them for a moment before turning back to a number of horses that were being coaxed onto a wide, flat barge.
"Ah." Faramir paused. "I've forgotten my things back at the tents."
Éowyn looped her arm through his. "I'd better help you retrieve them, lest you disappear for another night."
"I'd better get my pack from Quinn," Toven said. "I'll see you two on the ship."
He bid them farewell and started towards Quinn, who was tall enough to be visible among the rest of the crowd. Most of the flowers in her armor had wilted, and she was plucking them out and tossing them into the river. She also had two swords strapped to her back—her own, and the one that had belonged to the other ancient warrior.
Before he could reach her, he was accosted by Gimli, with Legolas not far behind.
"There's the young rascal who had us searching in the wee hours of the morning!" he said with a scowl, though there wasn't much real anger behind it. "The lad gets lovesick and all common sense flees his head!"
Well, news certainly travels fast. He crossed his arms. "You're one to talk, Gimli."
"Eh?"
"I get the feeling you've run off into the forest far more frequently than I have."
Gimli spluttered, his face reddening, and Legolas became very interested in a loose thread on his sleeve.
Quinn joined them and tossed Toven his pack. "Y'all ready? Hey, Gimli, are you choking on something?"
The dwarf grumbled something under his breath and stomped off towards the ships. Legolas shook his head and trailed after him.
"I'm still obsessed with the fact that they're together," Quinn said, watching them leave. "I can't believe you guessed right all those weeks ago."
"That night on the river feels like a different lifetime," Toven said, then nodded to the sword hilts visible above her shoulder. "You're carrying both, now?"
"Yeah. The one I got from the Lieutenant is crazy sharp. I could probably give someone a decent shave with it."
"Do you know anyone insane enough to get shaved with a broadsword?"
She shrugged. "I'd offer to do it for free. Anyway, it might come in handy in a fight. It's a shame I never learned how to dual wield."
"Dual wielding broadswords. That'd be a sight to see."
They began walking along the makeshift dock that had been created from several rafts and climbed aboard one of the ships.
"Do you think it makes me look badass?" Quinn continued.
"It makes you look wealthy enough to afford two swords."
"Well, I do happen to have some very wealthy friends." She leaned against the side of the boat. "Did you want one? I'm pretty attached to the original, but like I said, the new one's pretty sharp."
"You mean the sword that skewered you through the heart?" Toven shook his head. "I don't want anything to do with that thing."
"I did get better." Quinn adjusted her baldrics so they were covering the hole in her armor. "I have to find a place to get this fixed up, anyway."
"If Gimli sees you trying to get that repaired again, he's going to punch you."
"And I'll tell him that it's a waste to make new armor for someone who technically doesn't need it."
Toven looked her over. "So you've been feeling…normal these past few days? No sudden sensation of your spirit leaving your body?"
"Nope. I'm thinking since you killed the Lieutenant, there was no one to summon me back to the other world."
"But the war is over, isn't it? Wasn't that what was keeping you in Middle-earth?"
"I don't know, T." She reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "Maybe we'll never know. What matters is that I'm still here."
"Right."
After the battle, when she'd passed out, it had all come crashing down on him—that he was finally facing the inevitable loss of his mother. Seeing her now, acting carefree and lively as ever, made the day after the battle feel more like a bad dream than anything.
"Hey." She met his eyes, her gaze becoming more serious. "I'm still gonna be here for you, but I think you're gonna be okay. No matter what. You've got this."
The boat creaked and began to move, and Toven turned towards the prow and the wide expanse of the river beyond.
"For once, I'm actually inclined to agree with you on that."
The sun was warm, but at this height, the wind was freezing.
Quinn was sitting in the highest room of the white tower that extended from the summit of Minas Tirith, one leg dangling out the window as she watched cloud-shadows roll over the landscape below. From her perch, she could see the battle-scarred fields below, the gray stretch of the river, and the smoking bulk of Mordor on the horizon.
Nothing had moved behind those mountains since the battle. The land was still shrouded in storm clouds and ash, but the Black Gate and Minas Morgul had both crumbled to ruin. If any orcs still survived, Quinn didn't want to imagine what kind of hell was going on inside.
She rested her right hand in her lap, tracing over the burn from the Balrog and the scar from the first Morgul wound she'd received. A few weeks ago, she wouldn't have dared to think that she would be here to see the fruits of their victory. But after all the running and dying and body-switching and world-traveling, she'd actually made it.
Even if she'd reassured Toven that it wasn't worth looking a gift horse in the mouth, it still bothered her that she was allowed to stay without knowing the reason why. She'd heard of restless spirits wandering the land north of Bree, souls who had unfinished business or old resentments that kept them tied to the world of the living. Maybe her situation was the same principle. She had made a promise to Toven—My time isn't up until I say it's up. Maybe she was still here out of sheer stubbornness.
A blue glow shimmered in the corner of her eye, and she turned so she could face Belekur, who was standing in the center of the small, circular room.
"Well? You come up with any bright ideas since the last time we talked?"
"We have no new information, and conclusions cannot be gathered from what we do not have." A frown flickered on their face. "But I have given thought to a question you asked me before."
Quinn nodded for them to continue.
"You urged me to determine what it was I wanted—what I was fighting for. This has always been the cause of victory, the goal of fulfilling the orders of my superiors." They paused. "You and your son took that from me."
"But the Lieutenant was trying to kill you," she began, then stopped herself. So far, she and Belekur had barely been able to understand the way the other thought. But that didn't mean she couldn't try. "No. I take that back. I'm sorry for interfering the way I did. You…You had already accepted your fate, and I should have respected that."
"You know nothing of the workings of my world," Belekur said, but their voice did not have the usual harshness in it. "And I have come to realize that I do not know as much as I want to."
Quinn blinked. "Really?"
"I want to find answers. I want to know the reason we are commanded to fight."
"Yeah." She swung both legs so she was fully facing them. "That sounds like a good idea. Not that you need my approval, but…"
She bit the inside of her cheek. Technically, Belekur couldn't go anywhere without her. If she was going to help them with this, it would mean leaving Middle-earth behind.
Before either of them could speak, the trapdoor to the room swung open, and Legolas appeared. He was out of his traveling clothes, intending wearing a silvery robe with a matching circlet on his head.
He glanced between the two of them. "I hope I am not interrupting."
"No worries. You're looking snazzy, my dude." She stood up. "Is the coronation starting already?"
Legolas raised an eyebrow. "If you do not hurry, you will make us both late."
"Okay, okay." She waved him off. "I'm right behind you."
He disappeared down the stairs, and she made to follow him before turning back.
"Hey, Belekur? Can I ask you a question?"
"What is it?"
"Do you think we'll ever be friends?"
They looked at her for a long moment, their gaze unreadable, then said, "I don't know."
Her face broke into a grin, and she hurried to join her friends.
Toven had not had a room to himself since he lived in Erebor.
This one was comfortably furnished with a bed and a trunk for storage and a small washroom. There was also a small table with a few books, and Toven had picked one at random. It was written in Sindarin, and it had been a long time since he'd read anything in that language.
He was sitting on the bed with the book in his lap, tilted so the light from the window would hit it, when a knock sounded on the door. Toven stood up and went to open the door. He wasn't surprised to find Éowyn and Faramir on the other side, both still dressed in their finery from the coronation.
"Oh." Toven tugged on the hem of his own formal clothing, which he'd had to borrow from Faramir. "Did you want your clothes back?"
"You should keep them on," Faramir said, reaching for his hand and pulling him out the door. "The celebration is about to start. Aren't you coming?"
As far as Toven was aware, the celebration was mostly going to include nobles and other people of importance to celebrate their new king. He was uncomfortable enough in a tavern full of soldiers and craftsmen, and the thought of being in a room crowded with Gondor's lords and ladies made him feel a little sick.
"I'm all right. I doubt I would really fit in with that sort of company, anyway."
"All of our friends will be there," Éowyn said. "And I would not worry about your status. You have already managed to charm one lady," she added with a teasing smile.
Toven managed a laugh at her comment. He wasn't sure how to say that a difference in status wasn't what worried him, but one look into Faramir's eyes confirmed the other man already understood.
"If you want to stay here, I will not begrudge you that," Faramir said, squeezing his hand. "But it would be a great comfort to me if you were to join us."
And Toven understood as well. Whatever he was afraid to face at the celebration, Faramir had been enduring all his life. If they were to go together, they would be able to draw courage from one another.
"All right." He closed the door behind him. "Shall we?"
Éowyn grinned and looped her arm through his, holding onto Faramir with her other, and the three of them set off.
Eventually, they came to a large, rectangular hall carved directly from the stone beneath Minas Tirith. The sight made Toven miss Erebor, and he wondered again how the dwarves were faring up north, if they'd won their own battles against the enemy. He would have to ask Gimli if he was expecting a raven.
The hall was lit with candles and braziers and decorated with blue banners bearing the white tree. Most of the guests were dressed in dark blues adorned with silver, drinking wine and picking at food from long tables lined with meats and fruit. A section of the floor was filled with dancing couples next to a group of finely-dressed musicians.
Faramir led the way through the crowd, occasionally stopping to introduce someone to him and Éowyn. Toven smiled but didn't speak during these conversations. Éowyn, clearly more used to making small talk with strangers, easily filled up any awkward silence that might have lingered.
They received a variety of looks—some friendly, some inquisitive, some tinged with disapproval. Toven let go of Éowyn's arm and trailed behind the other two so the three of them could move through the crowd more easily. He felt exposed. The clothing Faramir had given him was sturdy and straightened out his figure, but he wished for a hood to throw over his head.
Relief flooded him when he finally bumped into someone familiar. Frodo was making his way through the throng, his height making him invisible until Toven nearly knocked him over.
"Oh." Frodo stopped and clasped his hand in greeting. He was only wearing a simple shirt and waistcoat, which made him stand out even more from the nobles in their velvet and satin. "It's nice to finally see a familiar face."
"I feel the same." Toven glanced at Faramir and Éowyn, who were conversing with a brown-haired woman with a pointed chin. "Are you doing all right?"
"I've had a number of people come up to congratulate me, though I'm not sure what for," Frodo said, looking around. "I haven't received this many well-wishes since my thirty-third birthday."
"And I think the food was better back then," Toven said, making him laugh. It was a relief to see joy on his face again. "Where are the others?"
"I'm not sure," Frodo said, his smile fading slightly. "I believe Pippin's getting on better than any of us with these folk."
As Toven craned his neck to look around, he spotted the hobbit in one corner of the room, surrounded by a group of men as he gestured animatedly about something. "You know, that doesn't surprise me at all."
"I'm going to try and get some air," Frodo said. "Take care, Toven."
He waved goodbye as stifling self-consciousness descended on him once more, but it didn't last long. A hand slid into his, and he looked over to see Éowyn gazing at him, a silent question in her eyes.
Toven nodded to let her know he was all right. They joined Faramir in the slow trek through the sea of people, but they didn't make it far before a wide shadow appeared above them.
Quinn smiled and held out a silver tray laden with little pieces of meat and vegetables. "Good evening, lady and gentlemen. Would you like some horse divorce?"
"Good…evening," Faramir said.
"Horse divorce?" Éowyn repeated at the same time.
"What the hell are you wearing?" Toven finished.
Quinn shrugged and held out the tray to a couple of passing nobles, who gave her a wide berth. "I can never enjoy the food at these shindigs, so I figured I'd try my hand at being a waiter. I hand out these bad boys," she pointed to the food, "to anyone who's hungry, so people don't have to walk all the way over to the table when they're hungry."
"That is an interesting idea," Faramir said, and reached out to take one of the pieces of meat.
"And what does the thing on your head have to do with it?" Toven asked.
"Oh, this?" Quinn gestured to the monstrosity on her head that could technically be called a hat. It had a ridiculously wide brim, and was adorned with a number of large feathers and strings of beads. Toven thought he could see a couple of pieces of fruit among the mix. "This is just a little statement piece. Merry and Pippin helped me put it together."
"Is this a custom in your world?" Éowyn asked, failing to hold back a smile.
"Not really. Just a bit of my own personal charm. Everyone's gonna be talking about it." She winked at Toven.
His exasperation melted into gratitude. Anyone who looked their way would be focused on her, not him. And unlike him, Quinn didn't have a self-conscious bone in her body.
"You really should go check out the food, though," she continued. "Someone brought seafood. I dared Merry to try one of the oysters, but apparently hobbits can eat just about anything, so he might be demolishing them now."
"What are oysters?" Éowyn asked.
Her face lit up. "You've never had them before? Believe me, they're not for the faint of heart."
Éowyn drew herself up, her eyes flashing. "If that is a challenge, than I accept it."
"Awesome." She held out her arm for Éowyn to take. "You guys mind if I steal her for a minute?"
Toven waved her off, and the two of them disappeared into the crowd.
"Your mother is a…very unique person," Faramir said, moving to his side.
"Unique is one way to describe her." He leaned closer, almost instinctively. "I appreciate your diplomatic approach."
Faramir let out a soft laugh before his expression grew more serious. "I want to thank you for coming with me. I know this is not easy for you, but it means the world to me."
"I'd do it again. As many times as you want me to. I know if our positions were reversed, you would do the same for me."
"That I would." Faramir reached out and squeezed his hand, and Toven wished they were not in a room surrounded by so many people.
"There you are!"
They both turned as Boromir came towards them with a grin. Faramir reached out and pulled him into an embrace, which involved a great deal of clanking since both of them were wearing ceremonial armor.
Faramir pulled back. "Toven, you are looking at the new Steward of Gondor."
"Ah, so it's official now." Toven smiled, trying not to think about the reason Boromir had inherited the office in the first place. "Does that mean I should start addressing you as 'my lord?'"
"I'll have none of that from you," Boromir said, giving his shoulder an affectionate shake.
"What does a steward do, anyway, if there is also a king?"
"I will serve as an councillor to Aragorn, among other duties. There may only be one king, but it is the work of several men to rule a kingdom."
"By which he means paperwork," Faramir whispered to Toven, making him laugh.
"And what about you?" Boromir asked. "Will you stay in Gondor?"
"I've been persuaded to join the Rangers here." Toven shared a glance with Faramir. "So for the time being, I will stay."
"That is good." He looked between the two of them, his expression softening. "And I am glad to see you enjoying each other's company."
"All right, Boromir," Faramir said while Toven glanced away, his face growing warm.
Boromir only laughed at that. "Well, I won't interrupt you any longer. Enjoy the celebration, the both of you."
Faramir looked slightly flustered as his brother walked away, a change from his usual composure, and Toven couldn't help but find it endearing.
"All right." He nudged him with his elbow. "Who else do we have to exchange pleasantries with?"
"I'll spare you from any more introductions for the moment," Faramir said, and they resumed weaving through the crowd.
They came closer to the section of the floor where people were dancing. Toven's eyes immediately found Aragorn and the elf in his arms. It had been a surprise to everyone when a party from Rivendell had arrived in the middle of the coronation, but Toven had never seen a greater joy on Aragorn's face when he caught sight of Arwen. Even now, they looked at each other as if they were the only two people in the room.
"Do you like to dance?" Faramir asked him softly.
"I haven't since I was a child. Not much opportunity for it in the wild."
"Would you like to?"
Toven turned to face him, the back of his neck prickling. "People will be watching us."
"I know."
There was a hint of a challenge in Faramir's voice. Toven looked back at the shifting crowd, at velvet gilded by candlelight and faces relaxed in the knowledge that this moment, this space, was theirs.
Was there not room in the light for them, as well? The shadows had been a refuge for him once, but…he wasn't alone anymore. He'd found someone who could give him the courage to step out of his solitude.
He moved his hand down to grasp Faramir's. I'll do it because I want to. Because I do not want to deny him, and I do not want to deny myself.
"You're going to have to teach me where to put my feet."
"It would be my pleasure." Joy melted over his gaze, and Faramir led him out among the other dancing couples.
Quinn is the definition of "when your custom character appears in a cutscene" lol. Next chapter will tie up a few more loose ends, and then we're on to the epilogue!
