I know I said I was going to write a continuation of the epilogue, but this idea got stuck in my head instead. There's still some smut, plus fluff and a splash of Gondorian politics (because what's gonna get you more hot and bothered than agrarian reform hahaha). But without further ado, enjoy this bonus chapter!

xxx

Toven lingered in the doorway of Éowyn's chambers, taking in the disarray strewn across the room. Éowyn was sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to him, her hands stilled in the midst of folding a shawl.

"Did you need help gathering your things?" he asked, making her turn. "It looks as though you've gotten lost along the way."

Her smile was slightly melancholy as she folded the shawl and set it aside. "Lost in memory, perhaps."

Toven stepped into the room and, after a moment's hesitation, closed the door behind him. "Are you sure about this?"

Éowyn had made the decision to move to Gondor—officially, to assist in the rebuilding of Ithilien, and unofficially, to spend more time with Faramir, whose own duties bound him to his kingdom. Though the three of them had spent most of their days together, that Éowyn was taking more than her essential possessions with her was an acknowledgement that they would be doing this for far longer.

She rose from the bed and moved closer. "I am sure. It is what my heart is telling me to do, and I have learned to better listen to it during these past few years." She took both of his hands in hers. "Besides, it is not so long a journey between Minas Tirith and Edoras. It is not as if I am leaving Rohan forever."

"Of course not. And if you ever want to make the journey back here, you know I'm always willing to follow you around."

A genuine smile brightened her expression. "I can think of no better companion." She squeezed his hands, then turned to address the clutter spread over her bed. "You are welcome to help me, if you like."

Toven took some of the folded garments on the bed and stacked them into what he hoped was a neat pile. He tended to be a little more careless with his own items, now that he had more of them than what would fit in a knapsack. Simply throwing his items into a trunk was a habit both Éowyn and Faramir had tried to discourage (though sometimes he kept at it simply to tease them).

"I seem to have misplaced one of my combs," Éowyn said, taking the stack of clothing from him and placing it in the open trunk near her desk. "If you find it, will you tell me?"

"I will." He left her to organize her jewelry and wandered over to the armoire at the other end of the room. Inside were most of her dresses, both those meant for travel and the heavier ones of fine fabric, meant for feasts and ceremonies.

He pushed the skirts from side to side, idly checking to see if anything had fallen to the bottom of the wardrobe, and the soft thud of something solid striking the wall caught his attention. He crouched down and began rummaging through a thicket of linen and velvet until his hand closed around the object that had made the noise.

Toven stood up and examined it. Beneath a wrapping of pale cloth, it was impossible to guess from the shape of the object, so he began to unwrap it. And then he recognized the shape—Quinn had a tendency to draw similar ones in the dirt with a stick.

"What is this?" he asked.

Éowyn looked up, and when she caught sight of what was in his hand, she froze. A flush spread up her neck and onto her face. "Oh, that is— I'd forgotten I had that."

It took a good amount of effort not to crack a smile at her expression. Toven flipped the object so the two rounded shapes on one end were at the top. "Some kind of bludgeoning weapon, perhaps?"

"It is nothing of the sort." She crossed the room and made to pluck it out of his hand, but he raised it out of her reach.

"I'm curious as to how you got you hands on something like this."

"The only one with their hands on it is you." Éowyn wrapped her arms around him, lips tilting upwards. "And you look quite ridiculous."

Well, he was holding it aloft like a captain about to lead his soldiers into battle. Toven acquiesced and lowered it into her waiting hand.

"Besides," Éowyn wrapped it in the cloth once more, "I have no need for it these days." She gave him a significant look.

Toven could not find reason to dispute that. Though it had taken some fumbling and hesitation and long nighttime conversations, the three of them had found ways to bring each other pleasure in bed that satisfied everyone involved.

"Still, if you ever feel the desire to use it…" he began.

The humor left Éowyn's expression. "I do not want you think that I find you or Faramir lacking. That could not be farther from the truth."

"I know." Those insecurities no longer hounded him as they had initially. He put an arm around her waist, drawing her back in. "But I would not begrudge you your…tools. If that piece of wood somehow gains the ability to walk and speak and manage the affairs of Ithilien, then there might be cause for jealousy. But until then…"

Éowyn laughed and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you, Toven. I assure you I have everything I need right here, and waiting for me in Gondor."

Toven returned her kiss. "Then we'd best finish with packing your things away."

They returned to their tasks. Toven gathered miscellaneous objects for her to fold or sort, and found the missing comb half-hidden behind the beside table. Éowyn placed her jewelry in small cloth bags so they wouldn't be tangled together and, with a considering glance at the cloth-wrapped object, tucked it into her trunk along with the rest of her belongings.

Some weeks later, as evening fell and the White Mountains cast their long shadow over Minas Tirith, Toven stopped on one of the streets of the Fourth Level and waved at the rider coming up towards him.

Éowyn caught sight of him and grinned, her windswept hair framing her face in a golden halo. She slowed her mount to keep pace with him as they continued up the street.

"How was your ride?" he asked, reaching up to rest a hand against the horses's shoulder.

"Refreshing. Windfola was happy to be out in the open field again." She rubbed a hand against the horse's neck.

Though she'd never complained about it, Toven sensed that Éowyn did not favor the high walls and white stone of the city, and she often made time to ride out across the Pelennor, sometimes with company and sometimes without.

"What brings you into the lower levels?" Éowyn asked.

"Gimli sent a group of dwarves to the city. Stonemasons. I offered to host them for the day."

Her lips twitched. "Has he found some flaw in the construction of the city?"

"Of course he did. I'm sure he would propose rebuilding Minas Tirith from the ground up if he had the time. As it stands, the dwarves are here to help with the rebuilding of what was destroyed during the siege."

A number of dwarves had already journeyed south to Aglarond, where Gimli had assumed lordship of the caves there, and it had been a small matter to send a handful to Minas Tirith. Though Toven had never met any of them before today, it seemed Gimli had put in a good word on his behalf, and the dwarves had treated him with a boisterous kindness that had made him nostalgic for his year in Erebor.

As they neared the street leading to the stables, Toven said, "I'm headed to Faramir's chambers. Will I see you there once you're finished with Windfola?"

"Of course."

In a moment of daring, he reached out to squeeze her knee, and was rewarded with a blushing laugh before they parted ways.

From there, he took a handful of shortcuts to the uppermost level of the city. It was no small task, climbing so many stairs, and Toven wondered if Gimli had proposed something like the clever lifts in Erebor for moving people up and down.

He pushed open the door to Faramir's chambers without knocking. Faramir was sitting on the bed, still in his day clothes, a book propped open in his lap.

He looked up as Toven entered the room. "How were the dwarves?"

"Loud, but the bartender didn't mind after he saw how much coin they left on the table. It's strange—I'd never met them before, but it felt as if I was spending time with old friends." Toven kicked off his boots and climbed onto the bed next to him. "How was the council meeting?"

Faramir let out a sigh through his nose and leaned back against the headboard. "Lord Derufin refuses still to allocate more coin to encourage farmers to move to Ithilien."

"Can't Aragorn just order him to agree with you?"

His lips curved into a smile. "If the need were dire, then he could. But it is fair to say that there are other provinces besides my own that are in need of gold. What rankles more is the way Derufin condescends to me, as if I have not lived and fought in Ithilien for more than a decade."

Toven had seen the man within the halls of the Citadel a few times, and his face increasingly resembled the dummies in the training yard the more he learned about him.

He took Faramir's hand and laced their fingers together. "Perhaps I should come to these council meetings with you."

Faramir raised an eyebrow. "Despite the fact that you have repeatedly expressed your disdain for politics?"

"Well, I am under no requirement to keep my words civil. I would tell Lord Derufin that gold is somewhat easier to handle than a sword, and then I would invite him outside to show him the difference."

Faramir laughed. "That it is a tempting idea, but I fear it would get one or both of us thrown out of the council chamber."

"You're sure I couldn't rough him up a bit? A good-natured duel?"

"The man is nearing sixty years of age, Toven. It seems your meeting with the dwarves has made your blood grow hot again."

Toven made a noncommittal noise. "Dwarves govern with their minds, not their fists. But if you believe in something, you'd best be prepared to bleed for it."

Éowyn entered the room, bringing the smell of summer with her. "What are we bleeding for?"

"The right to give a thrashing to ignorant old men."

She moved closer and braced her hands on the bed. "Is Lord Derufin giving you trouble?"

"Yes," Faramir said, then released the tension from his shoulders. "But I have nearly forgotten about the matter. It does not trouble me so when I have such fierce warriors ready to come to my defense."

"I am at your service, Captain," Toven said, and Faramir give him a good-natured cuff on the shoulder. Faramir had actively discouraged that there should be any acknowledgement of rank between them unless they were in the field, but over time it had turned into something of a private joke.

"I wish to bathe before I join you in bed," Éowyn said, pulling a knot in her hair apart with her fingers. "Is it all right if I use your washroom?"

"What's mine is yours," Faramir said, and she shot him a grateful smile before disappearing through the narrow door at the other end of the room.

"You know, this would probably be more convenient if you two were married and could simply share a room," Toven said.

"I have thought about asking her," Faramir said softly. "More than once."

"Then what's holding you back?" Toven shifted so he could get a better look at the other man's face. "You know she would accept in a heartbeat."

"You know my reasons for hesitating. But there is only one that holds me back." His gaze flickered downwards. "A marriage is a bond between two people, and I do not know that it is suitable for our situation."

"Then get married without me," Toven said. "It wouldn't really change anything between us, would it?"

"No." Faramir squeezed his hand. "But I do not want you to think that I do not value what it is we share, or that I value it less than what I have with Éowyn."

"I do not think that, and I do not believe you would ever give me a reason to feel that way," Toven said, holding his gaze and trying to convey just how honestly he meant it. Though they didn't come as often as they used to, doubts still managed to creep into Faramir's mind, most often about himself. There were times that he wished he could pluck those thoughts away like weeds from a garden.

Faramir brought one hand up to his face, his thumb stroking gently across Toven's cheek. "I would spend a lifetime proving it to you."

The skin beneath his touch grew warm. Some of the things that came out of Faramir's mouth were so like the words uttered in a book of love poems or a sappy performance at a festival. Toven was only half-embarrassed at how it made his heartbeat stutter every time.

"I have faith," he said, and closed the distance between them.

Faramir's hand moved to the back of his neck, and Toven was lost to the pressure of Faramir's lips against his. Despite his doubts and hesitations, in this he was always steady, always thorough in the ways he ignited his senses and made heat pool in his stomach.

He wasn't sure how long it was until the door to the washroom opened, but the sound was enough to make him pull back. Éowyn emerged from the doorway, the fading light from the window turning the gold in her hair to spun silver.

"I would not have you stop on my account," she said, pushing her damp hair behind her shoulders as she came forward.

Faramir's voice was slightly husky as he asked, "Is that my robe?"

She was dressed in a robe of dark gray, which was tied in the front by a matching sash. The shoulders were a little too broad for her slimmer frame, and a sliver of her bare chest was exposed in the middle.

"I had no other clothing, seeing as these are not my chambers." The corner of her lips curled upwards. "Perhaps I should return to my room and find something more suitable."

"That sounds like a terrible idea." Toven reached out to her, beckoning for her to join them. "You're fine as you are."

As Éowyn climbed onto the bed, the fabric of the robe moved aside, revealing the pale expanse of her thigh. Toven let out a slow breath, and desire coiled in his chest as she came to kneel in front of him.

"If anything, it is you who are not properly dressed for bed."

She reached down and undid his belt in a swift motion, then tossed it to the floor. He lifted a hand to touch her, his fingers brushing the edge of the robe, but he had to lift his arms as she pulled his tunic off.

"Much better." Éowyn turned and settled between his legs, leaning back against his chest.

Toven wrapped an arm around her, his thumb finding her collarbone and making small circles against it. The first few times they'd made love had been relatively quick, focused on finding release more than anything else. Once they'd realized that there were many, many nights ahead to spend together, they'd learned to take their time, to find pleasure in the building of desire just as much as the climax.

Faramir put a hand on his chin, turning his head so that he could press their lips together once more. Toven let out a contented sigh through his nose, his fingers pushing beneath the robe and sliding down the swell of Éowyn's breast. She pushed against his hand as his thumb found her nipple and began making small circles against the soft skin.

Éowyn reached between them and tugged on Faramir's shirt. "Faramir."

He broke the kiss and turned to her. "Yes, Éowyn."

She pulled him closer, and he went willingly, bending to seal his lips against hers. Toven resumed his ministrations, now free to concentrate more fully on them. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest, her breaths growing heavier as he put a little more pressure into his touch.

Faramir shifted so his body was parallel to hers, then lowered his lips to her neck. Toven reached down to undo the sash holding the robe closed, then pushed the folds of fabric aside, exposing her to the moon-dark of the bedroom. It still made him flush to see her bare, to freely take in the curve of her breasts and the angle of her hips and the dark patch of hair between her thighs.

It was more arousing still to see Faramir move lower, kissing the base of her throat and her collarbone before continuing on to the breast that had yet been left untouched. His mouth closed around her nipple, which had grown peaked with arousal, and she arched against him, one hand clutching at the hair at the back of his head.

"Faramir," she repeated his name, her voice little more than a breathy gasp as he left a trail of kisses down her ribcage, her stomach, the place where her hips joined her thighs. She opened her legs to him, her muscles trembling slightly with desire.

When he finally kissed her in the place she desired, Éowyn moaned and leaned her head back against Toven's shoulder. He took advantage of the motion to press his lips against the bare skin of her neck, his hand still working at her breast, his other arm wrapped around her waist as her hips bucked.

Her moans dissolved into high-pitched gasps, and then her entire body went rigid, one hand fisting in Faramir's hair, the other clutching at Toven's thigh as she rode out her climax. After a moment that fizzled like the air after a lightning strike, she slumped back against his chest, breathing hard. Faramir sat up and pushed his disheveled hair back from his flushed face.

Toven pressed a gentle kiss to Éowyn's temple, holding her as her breaths evened out. Faramir returned to his side and kissed him again. His tongue slid into his mouth in an imitation of what he had done to Éowyn just moments before. The taste of her arousal and the heat of Faramir's skin against his added to the aching desire in his core.

He might have asked Faramir to help him with that, but Éowyn was currently occupying the space between his legs, and she was in something of a half-doze at the moment. He leaned back and traced idle patterns through the cooling sweat on her bare chest, his head resting against Faramir's.

After a few minutes, Éowyn stirred and lifted a hand to intertwine her fingers with his.

"There was a man in my brother's éored who lost part of his leg," she began.

Toven snorted. "I didn't know lovemaking would put you in the mood to talk about men getting their limbs hacked off."

"Let me finish," she scolded, lightly smacking the back of his hand. "He was still able to mount and ride a horse, but he had trouble keeping his balance in the saddle. So one of the carpenters fashioned a leg for him to use, to right his balance."

"I've seen similar devices in Erebor," Toven said.

"And in Gondor," Faramir added. "Though soldiers without a limb are often assigned to the city guard."

When Éowyn didn't respond, Toven gave her hand a light squeeze. "What brings it to mind?"

She hesitated, her shoulders tensing a little. She disentangled herself from his arms, sat up, and turned to face them. "Let me retrieve something from my pack." She slid off the bed in a nimble movement and made her way into the washroom.

Frowning, Faramir turned to Toven. "Do you know what this is about?"

He shrugged. "I suppose we'll find out in a moment." He stretched his legs out with a small groan. "There was a dwarf in Erebor who lost use of both his eyes. An accident in the forges, I think. He paid to have two diamonds fitted for the empty sockets."

Faramir made a noise of something between disgust and fascination. "But he could not see with them."

"No. He would find his way with a thin metal rod that he would skim across the ground in front of him. The first time I saw him, the gems caught the light and glowed, like a cat's in the dead of night. Scared me out of my wits. I used to run and hide whenever I heard the scraping noise of his cane."

Faramir chuckled and stretched out beside him. "I imagine that would be a frightening sight, even to a valiant Ranger."

Toven rolled his eyes. "I was five years old at the time."

Éowyn emerged from the washroom, holding something wrapped in dark cloth. She sat on the bed across from them, fingers playing with the edge of the fabric.

"I want to make a proposition," she said. "And if either of you find it offensive or undesirable, tell me and I will speak no more of it."

Toven sat up, his interest piqued. Éowyn had always been cautious in her suggestions when they were in bed, which he found more endearing than anything. But he had no idea what she was about to propose now.

He held out a hand, and she handed him the cloth-wrapped package. Faramir leaned closer to look as he unwrapped it, and Toven's eyebrows rose as he revealed the wooden shaft he had found in Éowyn's bedroom all those weeks ago. He'd all but forgotten about it until now. Éowyn had altered it too, attaching a set of leather straps to the base.

Faramir looked up at her. "Did you make this?"

Éowyn's face flushed, and she nodded. "I have worked before to mend bridles for horses. This was something of a similar task."

He smiled. "I suppose we can add inventor to your list of talents."

His comment helped ease the tension in the room somewhat. Toven examined the leather straps, and the pieces finally clicked together in his mind.

"You want one of us to wear this and…use it on you," he said, looking up at Éowyn for confirmation.

She bit her lip and nodded again. "If you are agreeable to it."

Toven lowered his gaze to the length of wood in his hand, mulling over the statement. She had assured him before that this was not meant to compensate for what he and Faramir lacked. But there was clearly some part of her that was aroused by the idea, that wanted to imitate what another man could do to a woman. It wouldn't be the same—he had tried to make peace with that fact—but there was a part of him that was still intrigued.

He turned to Faramir and searched his face. There was the tiniest tension in his jaw, which appeared whenever he was thinking deeply about something. He glanced at Toven, who gave a small shrug, as if to say, Why not?

"I'd be willing to try it," Toven said to Éowyn.

"I do not yet know if I would," Faramir said softly. "I will be content to watch tonight." He gave her a small smile, as if to reassure her that he was not offended by her proposition.

Toven gave his hand a quick squeeze. In such matters, they were able to learn from each other, and he was always grateful that he was able to share these experiences with Faramir.

He turned his attention to the length of wood in his hand. "I'm not at all sure how to put this on."

"I will help you." Éowyn moved across the bed so she was straddling him and pulled him into a kiss.

His arousal, which had diminished somewhat with the talk of severed limbs and sightless dwarves, rekindled with a flush of heat in his stomach. He leaned back, hands sliding over her sides, her hips, down her thighs and up…

Éowyn broke the kiss and moaned softly as his fingers pushed between her folds. "Are you trying to distract me?" she asked, even as she pushed against his hand.

"Distract you from what?" he murmured, tracing small circles against her.

She let out a breathless laugh and tugged at his undershirt. "I am trying to undress you."

"Oh." He'd barely noticed that her hands were at the hem of the shirt. Obligingly, he helped her pull it off, and she kissed him again as her hands went to the lacing of his trousers. In a matter of minutes, he was fully unclothed, and he sat up on his heels to give Éowyn better access as she wound the leather straps around his legs and hips.

Once the harness was secured, snugly but not uncomfortably, he looked down at the wooden length protruding from between his thighs. There was a small thrill that went through him at the sight, though it was tempered by the thought that this was more of a fantasy than anything else.

Éowyn touched his thigh, bringing him back to the present. Her eyes searched his, silently asking for affirmation.

A fantasy it may be, but there was no harm in enjoying it while it lasted.

Toven gave her a small smile to reassure her that he was willing to continue, and she relaxed. The hand on his thigh slid upwards, then back down again.

"How would you like me?" she asked, looking up at him through her lashes.

"Um." He swallowed. His mind hadn't gotten quite far enough to consider that. In any case, this was more for her pleasure than his. "I leave that to you."

A smile crept onto her face, and Éowyn laid back against the pillows, pulling him with her so he was kneeling between her legs. "Like this, then."

Toven glanced at Faramir, who had shifted onto his side. He was propped up on one elbow, his gaze roaming languidly over both of them. Heat prickled along Toven's skin.

"How do I look?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound self-conscious.

Faramir's lips twitched. "It looks like you are keeping our lady waiting."

"Right." He returned his attention to Éowyn, then hesitated. "Will this hurt you?"

Éowyn grabbed his hand and gave a reassuring squeeze. "Not if you go slowly."

She reached down and helped guide the tip inside her. He pressed into her gradually, watching her face for signs of pain or pleasure. Her eyes were closed, lips parting in a sigh of relief, as if he was filling some aching need within. With each small movement of his hips, the base put a pleasant pressure back on him, inflaming the heat in his core.

When he was fully sheathed inside her, Toven paused, both hands fisted in the bedsheets. "Is this all right?"

"Yes." Éowyn opened her eyes, cheeks flushed. "But I would prefer that you continue moving."

"Right." A matching blush spread on his own face, and he pulled back—and accidentally slid out of her entirely. "Ah."

Stifling a laugh, she reached down and guided him back in. "It's all right. I do not mind if you take your time."

Beneath his pulsing desire, he felt a sudden surge of affection, and leaned down to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, keeping him close, and he focused on touch alone as he slid back into her.

It took a few minutes to find a steady rhythm. Once he did, it was all too easy to lose himself to it, to the feel of her legs wrapped around him, her soft moans with each thrust. Heat smoldered beneath his skin, and the wet sounds of Faramir pleasuring himself only inflamed him further. The base of the shaft ground against him, and soon he was panting along with Éowyn, feeling his desire coil tighter and tighter—

Éowyn's breath hitched, then she cried out, one hand clutching at his shoulder, the other tugging on the leather strap at his hip. Toven continued his movements, trying to draw out her climax, and a few moments later, he found his own. He buried his face in her neck, his rhythm finally faltering as white sparks of pleasure spiraled through his limbs.

The strength drained from his body, and even if Éowyn hadn't been clinging to him with all four limbs, he wasn't sure he would have had the energy to move off of her before collapsing. He let out a few shaky breaths, his sweat-slicked chest heaving against hers.

"Toven?" Éowyn's touch became gentle once more, and her fingers carded through the hair at his nape. "Are you all right?"

He mumbled an affirmative and managed to lift his head to look at her. "Are you?"

She nodded and touched his cheek. "Thank you for indulging me in this."

"I'm glad that I could."

He lifted himself up, carefully pulling out of her, and rolled over onto his back. His arm brushed against Faramir's, and he turned to look at the other man.

Faramir's face was flushed, his breathing heavy with evidence of his own climax. "That was…I did not expect…"He swallowed. "I enjoyed the sight more than I thought I would."

Toven brushed a loose lock of hair away from his face. "Well, perhaps next time can be your turn." He reached down and lifted his hips slightly so he could undo the straps, then tossed the harness aside. It hit the wall with a clunk, and he winced. "Sorry. Should've been more careful with that."

Éowyn snickered and threw an arm over his chest. "You're lucky that didn't go out the window."

He winced. "Could you imagine if it landed on someone?"

Faramir groaned and put a hand over his face. "I would have to banish myself from Minas Tirith."

Toven huffed out a laugh and moved his arm so Faramir could lie against his other side. "Well, you'd better take us with you."

"Without question." Faramir pressed a light kiss to his shoulder, then nodded to Éowyn. "And your little friend is allowed to accompany us as well."

She met his gaze with a smirk. "What's mine is yours, Faramir."

Toven felt their laughter reverberate through his own body, and even as the hour grew late, it was a while before any of them found sleep.

This was partially inspired by "What a Woman Can Do" by Isis on AO3, which gave me the idea for Eowyn inventing the strap on haha. I highly recommend it, though she uses it to a different effect in that story. Also, I've said before that I'm not a trans guy, and I was hesitant to get into any sexual scenes with Toven and Faramir because there's often this fixation on sex when it comes to trans people that is…fetishistic at best and I didn't want to fall into that. I also want to point out that sex for cis and trans people involves a wide range of actions and dynamics that vary from person to person. Some trans guys don't like using strap-ons at all, some do. I was hesitant to get into Toven's head for a scene that's so specific and intimate, and I tried to be as sensitive as possible. I really hope I did that well.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this bonus chapter! I'll try to update my other fics next week. I'll be graduating in a couple weeks, and afterwards hopefully I'll have a little more time for writing.