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Faramir
He tolerated many things with a smile and a laugh. Some hurled insults at his face. Others told him he was led about by his wife like cattle after their caretaker. Still others told him he was too kind and merciful. An iron fist was what he needed to rule his small domain. All of this he answered with a smile or a laugh.
But the sight of young foolish nobles singing ballads to Éowyn, written specifically to praise her attributed brought forth an emotion he never knew before. It ate him and he struggled to control it. Sometimes he succeeded, other times he didn't. When he didn't, the young nobles found themselves in dangerous positions that demanded their presence elsewhere. Many left Éowyn alone after that, much to her surprise.
"Have you attempted something?" She asked him finally, perplexed.
"I may have reminded them of their duties, instead of loitering about near other men's wives." He said gruffly. Éowyn stared.
"You were... Jealous?"
Faramir looked away, but not before she caught an uncertain look.
"Of course I was." He muttered.
Éowyn looked at her husband for a long moment and then she laughed merrily.
"Good," she said with a caressing hand over his face. "That means I will be forgiven if I do not take any lady watching you, kindly."
Faramir smiled.
"One of the benefits of having a wife," he whispered, "is to have her keep other unwanted advances at bay."
They both laughed.
