A/N: OK, posting 3 chapters all at once here. Two reasons. Firstly, Éowyn had to come next, and she took a long time to tell me what she was thinking. Faramir and Imrahil don't seem to have this problem. I blame patriarchy myself. Anyway, their chapters were written ages ago, so I thought you might as well have them straight away. Secondly, and quite frankly, I held off posting because I was afraid I was going to get lynched. Still am.
IX
In those first few dreadful weeks after the armies went east, I came to believe that my husband had only two ways of speaking to what I believed he deemed a recalcitrant female, neither of which greatly endeared him to me. His first tactic seemed to be to command sternly, which might have worked from a man that I respected more. The second was to beseech tearfully, which made me respect him even less. I remained obdurate in my desire to return to Emyn Arnen but, depending on whichever mood took him, he would either forbid it, or plead with me to explain to him why it was I wished to abandon him.
I was somewhat sick again at this time and, while I would not have admitted this to him, there came a point where I was unsure that I could have faced the move home. Thus when the Haradrim put paid to whatever chance I had of going back to Ithilien - for with their raids in the south I would not have risked myself, my son, and my yet-to-be-born child there - I confess it came as something of a relief to me. But by then it was as if strife had become to us second nature, for although the cause of our contention was removed, still we quarrelled, ceaselessly and senselessly. And, one evening, after a particularly bitter argument, he strode out of the house and did not return. I believe he must have gone to the citadel, where many officers could be housed, but he did not say.
For, after that, he froze. And then it was as if he disappeared. Each day, by the time I rose - and I rose early - he had already gone. When I went to bed he would often not have returned. And if he did come back, he would walk past my sitting room, even when I left the door open as an invitation for him to join me, and make directly for his study. In time, I simply closed the door. When we did encounter each other, which could not be avoided, even in a house this size and despite his obvious efforts, then he was almost silent. He would not meet my eye, and he would answer me in single words - unless I attacked him, in which case I would perhaps merit an entire sentence. And so I became convinced that he must despise me, and I became very sad, for I could remember all that he had said about my abilities as a mother, and I knew that he was right. I would watch him with his son, and envy him his easiness with the child, and his unaffected and tender demonstrations of his love for him, which I felt I had never quite mastered. How complex my emotions were to see him thus! For he was so gentle and loving with Elboron that I could see that this was indeed still the man that I had married, and I loved him. And yet, I could remember how once this all this gentleness and tenderness had been directed towards me too, but now, it seemed, I longer merited it.
As the months went by, however, and the time that the child was due drew closer, it seemed that he wished to be beside me once again. And although at times I wondered whether it was in fact his child he wanted to be near rather than the mother he had said he so despised, still I welcomed him near me. For although bearing this child had been much easier than I had feared, still I felt tearful and wished for harmony between us, so that we could at least make a pretence of being a family, and happy. And although we did not speak much, and although often he did not seem to want to meet my eye, his touch was very gentle, and longed-for, and he soothed me greatly as my time drew near. And when our daughter arrived, I was so less tired afterwards than I had been with our son, and she was so delightful, that I found myself laughing easily at the sight of her. And this seemed to please him very much and, while he was still very quiet, he would spend a great deal of time with us; and, although he disguised it, I knew that he was letting me choose whatever name I desired for her. And this gesture moved me a great deal, and so I named her for my grandmother. Not only was this in part to link my own daughter to my mother's line, but my grandmother had come from Gondor, and I knew that this acknowledgement would please him. I did not want to give her a Rohirric name for, I thought, he would always struggle with it; but I did not mention this to him, for it would have wounded him. While it saddened me that we could not jest in our old way, still it mattered more to me to keep the peace.
In later days, when I thought back on this golden time, it had the quality of a dream. For the weather was warm but mild, and our daughter was beautiful, and our son made me laugh, and my husband began, with much hesitation, to talk to me again. He spoke about his work, to which he dedicated so much of his energies, and he said that he had been worried at the start of the year that he might prove not capable of doing the job of steward, which seemed strange to me, and I said so quite frankly, since he was plainly a man of great ability. And this seemed to comfort him a great deal, and he would speak a little more of matters to do with his office that troubled him. One day, almost off-handedly, he mentioned he had been considering a journey south to Poros, for while our borders were now secure, he wanted to see first-hand the condition of the company and the security of the marches. But he was undecided on the matter, since Morwen was not quite a month old, and he did not want me to feel abandoned. But I encouraged him to go, since I felt very well, and also I believed that his propensity to work too hard made him tired and sometimes ill, and I thought a journey from the city would be good for him. And, most of all, I believed it was his duty and that he had been neglectful of it in this respect. While I tried hard to understand his ardent desire for peace, still his avoidance of certain aspects of his office seemed to me on occasion to be wilful. And whatever the King had said to me, I feared that in time this could become a source of contention between them.
And so he rode off - and then returned, very late one night, and days earlier than expected, and I recalled the first trip away from me that he had made, when much the same had happened. But this time he was a man utterly changed. When I heard him come in, I went out to greet him, and he was already on his way towards his study. And I was hurt to see that he would again avoid me rather than speak to me, and I begged him to tell me what had brought him back so soon, for I was disturbed that once more he seemed to be neglecting his duty. And he would not answer me, and so I pressed and, very quickly, my questions and his evasions turned into accusations and counter-accusations, and it was one of our bitterest arguments, for both of us knew how fragile was the trust that had begun to emerge between us, and were angry at the other for threatening it. And, at the last, the quarrel ended, but with no resolution, as I slammed the door of my sitting room in his face and told him to leave me in peace and, passive as ever, he obeyed.
Gone now was the peace we had built between us, and the speed of its collapse only showed up its weakness. Once again, he became silent, but now he also became stern, and even, I thought, bitter, and every statement I made to him was met with a rebuff. He became very protective of the time he spent with the children, insisting on being with them at a particular time of the day but without me, and he otherwise withdrew completely from the house to his office. And this change in him distressed me greatly, for this cold and unforgiving man was barely recognizable as my husband, and I did not know where to turn. Often I found myself weeping without warning, and I became again very lonely, and lost in this great stone city, and I thought of Denethor and Finduilas, and I became afraid.
It was the Queen that came to my aid. For she came to see me one afternoon, and she herself seemed a little melancholy, and she confided how she missed her husband - and suddenly I was weeping again. And I felt ashamed that I should be unhappy when my husband was near me, and yet it somehow felt worse to me that it was his presence that made me feel so alone. I told the Queen a little of my worries, of how he had become immersed in his work and withdrawn from me, but I said nothing of the bitterness of our exchanges when we did meet, or my fears about the neglect of some aspects of his duty, for this felt disloyal. And the Queen listened gravely, and with concern on her face, and sat for a while in thought. Then she gave me a very dry smile, and patted my arm, and she spoke.
'I wonder, Éowyn, what sort of women we are to sit in such misery and simply bear it? I, at least, am not content to continue this way. I hope that you agree with me.'
And then, suddenly, the days became very busy, as we seemed to spend a great deal of time down in the city, and almost every day it seemed she had something new for us to do, or to see, and there were concerts and theatre, and good food and better wine, and she even persuaded me to shop with her and, more miraculously, to enjoy it. Of course, I realize now, that the Queen was, in a very shrewd and unobtrusive way, taking a confused and unhappy young woman from Rohan, and giving her the education to enable her not just to endure but to thrive in court and as the wife of the Steward of Gondor. For one day, as we were leaving my home, I caught a glimpse of myself in the long glass at the side of the door, and I realized in horror that I looked like nothing so much as one of the fine court ladies that I so much despised.
'What have you done to me?' I cried.
She looked at me and smiled. 'Do not claim that you do not enjoy it!'
'You have turned me into the enemy!'
She laughed out loud, but then came to me and put her hand gently against my face, and became very serious.
'Dearest Éowyn,' she said, 'I have not turned you into the enemy. You are as strong and as remarkable as you have always been. And now you are quite formidable.' And then she smiled at me merrily. 'Come along! We have a city to petrify.' And indeed we did, since who could withstand both the Queen of Gondor and the Lady of Emyn Arnen?
And I found that as a result of this new assurance I could face my husband's distance with greater equanimity, and although it was still easy to find myself doubting my ability as a mother and filled with sadness if we should exchange a few harsh words, I felt more hopeful, for soon his uncle would arrive, and I planned to confide in him what I had not dared tell the Queen, for the Prince had known my husband throughout his life and, would, I hoped, be able to throw some light on this change he had undergone.
Although it was a joy to see the Prince again, I do not think he much enjoyed his dinner, and indeed it was not a pleasant occasion. My husband and I had exchanged sharp words before his arrival, and we quarrelled in our own coldly courteous fashion throughout the meal. I watched the alarm cross my uncle's face and, as he reached for more and more wine, I wondered for one brief moment whether he was going to lose his temper. And I became ashamed that he had been forced to witness the distasteful sight of the Lord and Lady of Emyn Arnen at each others' throats; for before another, and one whose respect I so much desired, our performance seemed objectionable, and madness. I made him promise to come and see me the following day, when we could speak more freely. And he did speak freely to me then, but not as much as I would have liked. For in between his kind solicitude that was so very welcome to me, and his generosity about my fears as to what kind of mother to me, and his gentle advice to talk to my husband, he made a rather cryptic remark that set me thinking. Ask your husband to explain why it is he will not go to war.
When he left, I fell to thinking about this, and wondered what he could have meant. And as I thought more upon it, it seemed indeed that this did appear to be close to the root of all our troubles, starting with my husband's unexpected return from Ithilien one night, his hurtful refusal to wear my sword, the sudden bitter row following his trip to Poros, his reaction to any comment made about his duty and, of course, the fact that he had remained here in Minas Tirith despite all my misgivings. My husband's gift for silence was also, I thought now, one for evasion. And I had been so preoccupied with my own troubles, my worries about being a mother, and about being trapped in this city, that he had thus far managed to deflect my attention from any serious consideration of his own concerns.
Then I fell also to thinking of the great gift that the Queen had given me in the past few months, that of confidence and greater respect for myself, and I determined that I would make my husband talk to me, no matter what obstacles he threw in my path, through awkwardness or, as I now began to suspect, through sheer terror. For this was, I deemed, the only way that our marriage could be saved. And, now that it came to the pinch, I knew that I did want to save it - not just for our children, but because I loved this man, who with tenderness and compassion had pulled me back at the lowest point in my life, and then with whom I had shared great happiness, in the Houses of Healing, and before we were married in Edoras, and then those blissful months in Emyn Arnen. And I truly believed that despite all the damage we had inflicted upon each other over this past year, we could once more be happy together, if we could trust each other again. There was much in this marriage that was worth saving, I judged. I could save it, I decided, and I would save it.