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The first three months after the King, my uncle, and the armies departed were not an easy time. Although I had governed the kingdom before when I had first become Steward, it was only very briefly and at a time when much was changing. Gondor was now a bigger realm, and I found the change from ruling Ithilien something of a shock. Moreover, very soon after the armies left for the east, we were facing incursions from the south and, while the Poros company was made up in the main of men that I had served with in Ithilien and thus trusted absolutely, still it was a great frustration and also, I deemed, a hindrance not to be able to take direct command. Very soon, I felt as if the kingdom was slipping from my control, and I began to think that I was outside of my capabilities. The Stewards of Gondor had maintained the realm for nearly a thousand years in the complete absence of any king. It would not, I thought, be much of a tribute to my forefathers to wreck it in the space of twelve months while the newly restored King was merely away conducting a war on our eastern borders.
In the midst of these worries, the collapse of our marriage was most certainly not helping matters. For Éowyn and I argued so relentlessly such that it felt as if our home was itself a battleground. When the skirmishes on the southern marches began, my wife seemed to me to be quick and frequent in offering her opinions on the fact that I remained in the city. After her unambiguous expression of her estimation of me as a soldier and as a man, I had sworn that I would never tell her about my condition, for it was plain to me that she would judge it cowardice. I thought also, somewhat bitterly, that although I had not explained in detail about my health, still I would have liked her to trust that my choice to remain at home was not through laziness or weakness. But, at the back of my mind, it was hard not to think that perhaps her evaluation of me was accurate.
In truth, this was a very bad time. My appetite disappeared, and I lost weight. I began to experience, almost daily, excruciating headaches, which made it even harder to carry out my responsibilities as Steward. And then, on one occasion in late January, after a particularly unpleasant encounter with my wife which I had conducted through a headache which was affecting my vision, I stumbled out of the house and sought some peace in the citadel. I went to one of the rooms reserved for officers, fell upon the bed, and was overwhelmed by such memories of the retreat from Osgiliath as I had not experienced since it had first happened in Ithilien. My head was on fire and I was shaking with the pain and the sense of unreality that such an attack engendered, and it came to me all of a sudden that I had not only made a disaster of my married life, but that I was not fit, in any sense of the word, to hold the office of steward. And having thought that, I was filled with a great sense of alarm, for I was not yet forty years old, but it seemed that all the roles that were available to me - soldier, husband, servant of the king - I was unable to perform.
It was at this juncture that I deemed that the wisest course was to take my own life; and, this decision made, I felt light-headed and relieved, as if a great clarity had at last come to me. But after a few moments, other thoughts came into my mind. I thought how there had been many people that had made great sacrifices to keep me alive - the Ithilien company, that had fought alongside me for years, and preserved my life on many occasions, not least those that had stood over me when I had been struck down on the Pelennor, and protected me until my uncle could deliver me. And then there had been a direct forfeit of another man's life for my own - that of the old King of the Mark for that of the new Steward of Gondor. Should his death thus come to naught?
Then I fell to thinking about my son, and the child that was to come, and how I, as a boy, had longed to have a mother, even one who only cared for me as much as my father did, for then I would at least have a mother. And I thought that I did not want to leave my son fatherless, even if he in time decided, as I had done, that his father was a bad father; for I myself had never wished Denethor dead, and had preferred that he had lived. And I thought that even if I made every mistake that it was possible for me to make, I could never be a father so dire as my own, for I had no desire to hurt my son, that I loved and thought beautiful, and could not contemplate ever wishing to harm in the way that my father had tried to harm me. And, indeed, I could not even if I wanted to, for I was unable now to touch a knife. And then, even in this frame of mind, I found it in me to laugh, for I realized that even if I had decided that it was best for me to end my life, the ways in which I could do it were somewhat limited, since there were few weapons now that I could hold. There would be no stabbing, and no throwing myself upon my sword and, I thought, I did not much care to learn whether my own father had discovered a satisfactory means of self-annihilation. And as I closed my eyes and felt myself drift into sleep, I remembered again two important facts; first, that throughout my life, whenever I had despaired, things had, on the whole, often seemed better in the morning light and, next, that I had never much cared for pain.
And, despite the strain of the night before, I woke early and indeed felt better, and a very weak light was coming in, and I sat up on the bed, and wrapped the blanket around me, for since it was near the end of January it was quite cold, and I considered at length what I should do. And I judged that first I needed to take in hand the matter of my health, for upon this depended my ability to carry out any duty or responsibility with any measure of success. It seemed to me, thinking upon the previous months, that what I craved most was quiet, and that I needed to ensure this around me; it also seemed that the main source of discord was our marriage. I perceived now that I could no longer sustain the way that we were living if I wanted to perform to the best of my ability those duties which I deemed of the greatest significance - my duty to my king, to my child and children when that became the case, and to her, whom I loved above all but seemed only able to hurt and not protect in the way that I so desired. And I determined that I should keep my peace when facing her; or, if this was not possible, to stay away from her. For I knew that if we continued in the same fashion, it would destroy us both. And with me ill, and she in her condition, to torment each other seemed madness and close to cruelty.
So I re-ordered much about my life and I strove above all to keep all about me harmonious. I would come to my office very early and work late and, on occasion, simply remain there reading, or else, if I did go home, go straight to my study to rest and read. And I found that these measures had a great deal of success, for my appetite came back, and I felt my health improving daily. My headaches ceased or, at least, became less frequent, assailing me instead every few weeks; and although this was more often than when I had been governing Ithilien, I thought it was to be expected that governing the realm would inevitably cause me more anxiety. I also judged that, if I should feel the familiar thumping in my head, then it was foolish of me to force myself to work through it, for this had only made me exhausted for longer. If I quit while in the initial stages, and slept, then I was back to myself within the day. I set up a room in the citadel for this eventuality, for this meant that I could easily be reached in an emergency, and that I did not need to face my wife when I was feeling ill. And, most thankfully, I did not experience again that terrible sensation that I was back at the retreat.
My new application had a marked effect on my administration of the realm. The work seemed less overwhelming and more manageable; moreover, and which was of the greatest relief to me, we began to see successes on the southern borders. I began to believe that it was possible that I would make a success of my stewardship, and that I would not, after all, hand back a kingdom in ruin. And for a few months, all went quiet at home, and I watched her anxiously but furtively, and she seemed well throughout this time, and I saw with relief that it seemed the summer would be mild, and so she would not feel so heavily the burden which I knew she felt she bore.
And there were several weeks, leading up to and just after the birth of our new child, when I thought we might be close to a reconciliation. For although I had decided that we were best apart, it proved impossible to continue this at this time. All I wanted was to be close to her and to do all that I could to comfort her, and she seemed to welcome my presence. It was still very hard for me to look upon her, for I felt that I had failed her badly, but we were able to touch one another again, although we still spoke very little. In the days after our new daughter arrived, I would sit beside Éowyn as she lay in the bed, and she seemed delighted with the new child, and I thought how different this was from her exhaustion the previous time and, since I too was overwhelmed with joy, I believed we were now heading for happier times, and that this lovely new gift would change everything. And so it seemed, for some weeks.
And then I made what, with hindsight, I can see was a bad decision. At the back of my mind, I had always told myself that my illness was a temporary matter and that, even if I could not yet arm myself, still I thought I could, with sufficient effort of will, overcome my fears, and return to my duty. For I did not think that I was a coward, although I perhaps felt it, and I judged that my absence from the field did indeed make a difference to my ability to command, and this failure in performing my duty to the fullest extent I felt keenly. It was with these thoughts in mind that I decided to go to the Poros station and see first hand what had been happening there throughout the border troubles. I suspect that if my uncle or the King had been at hand they would not have allowed this journey, but I was in command, and nobody offered a contrary opinion when I spoke of my intention to go. Éowyn accepted it as my responsibility, and seemed quite pleased to hear that I had made this decision, and I was glad to think that I had chosen a course of action which might even further secure this new peace that we had.
The journey was long and I felt it, for I had little time or need these days to ride and be outside, and I had also been ill. And the moment I set foot inside the camp I knew I had made a terrible mistake. For the sights and the sounds were overwhelming; not enough, praise the Valar, to cause me to relive the retreat, but enough for me to feel that I had somehow journeyed into the past, or into a realm of dreams, or nightmares. After an uneasy day or so touring the camp, we rode a short distance to see where the last raid had been fought off, and I looked upon the site of this small battle - and it had hardly been even that - and I was overcome with grief, and wept; at the thought of the men that we had lost, and also at the many more that we had slaughtered. And I knew then for certain, as I had not yet admitted to myself, that my days as a soldier were truly over, and that I would never fight again, and I rode back for Minas Tirith straightaway. So there was, I think, an inevitability about the scene that followed, when I came into the house tired and unhappy, and she came from her sitting room surprised to see me and pressed to know the reason for my early return. And it was enough for me to seal myself back inwards, to protect us both from each other.
As the weeks passed, we heard news of the victories in the east, and so my thoughts fell to ensuring that the realm was in good order for the King's return, and I immersed myself in my work. My only significant contact with Éowyn now was when we were obliged to attend diplomatic occasions together, and she performed her duties admirably, although I believed this was more on account of the King and Queen, whom she loved, than any favour to me. For I found that if we were forced to spend a length of time alone in each other's company, we would once again fall into our old pattern, and I tried for the sake of us both to prevent these situations arising.
My children were my greatest joy, and I would leave my office for an hour or so every day, and spend that time with them. Although I had always worked well with my staff, still it was necessary to keep some small distance in order to maintain my authority, and it was not the same as the companionship I had shared with the men in Ithilien. I would on occasion feel that the only person that looked upon my presence with genuine affection was Elboron, who was growing quickly, and would always smile at me upon my arrival. And my new daughter was so beautiful, and I would sit with her in the same way that I had sat with my son, simply looking and holding and admiring her. And sometimes, when Éowyn did not know that I had returned a little early, I would watch her with them, and it was plain to me that she was a fine mother and more, and I bitterly regretted the words that I said to her in anger - and yet always they would spring to my lips if I felt that she was judging me in her turn.
And so I worked, and I read, and I held my children; and if, on some evenings, I sat in the quiet of my office and thought that perhaps I was a little lonely, I also reflected that this was how it had always been in my life, and that I had survived well enough thus far, and also that I should not have expected anything to change. But, on occasion, entering the house, I would catch her scent on the air, and I would feel famished. And then I would dream of her touch upon me, of holding her to me, the back of her neck against my cheek, her taste on my lips and her body close beside me.
So it was for many reasons that I had been so much looking forward to my uncle's return, for he had ever brought me both consolation and perspective. I desperately wished to talk to him about my troubles, and how difficult the year had been at its outset. Perhaps, also, I desired praise from him; to have someone that I admired and respected to tell me that whatever the disaster I had made of the marriage, I had done my best for my king and my children and acquitted myself there, at least, satisfactorily.
Éowyn's attacks at dinner with my uncle the previous evening had left me as tired as they always did. I went to my room hoping that some sleep would refresh me, but I woke the following morning with a slight headache that persisted but I judged would not affect my ability to function, but that did not help endear to me the frustrating minutiae of a small piece of business that had been plaguing me for weeks and which contrived to swamp the entire day. I had other things on my mind, a number of issues I wanted resolved before the King's return in order to hand back an office that was in good order, and the day had been utterly wasted on trivialities. It was with great relief, then, that I saw my uncle standing in the doorway, his presence as soothing as ever; and I thought that I could now unburden some of my worries and hear his advice. What I wanted was reassurance. What I got was the truth.
He had seen Éowyn that morning and he had heard, no doubt in detail, about what a bad and cruel husband I was; how I did not speak to her, how I held myself distant. For I knew that I did all these things. And, more, I knew that I did them intentionally; not to hurt her, since hurting her made this all the more painful for me, but because I had to protect us from the wounds which we would otherwise inflict upon ourselves. But I did not get a chance to explain this to him, and it was plain that he was in complete sympathy with my wife. And I had not thought of this matter before as one in which sides should be taken for, although I would respond to her in anger, still I felt that much of the blame needed to put at my own door. But as he spoke I felt strangely bereft, as if this man that I had loved throughout my life as much as, if not more than, a father, had at last abandoned me, as had everyone else before him. And his appraisal wounded me, as if, despite all my struggles throughout the year, with my health, and my work, and my role as a father, it had all proven, once again, not to be good enough. So I became angry with him; particularly that he could so quickly reduce me to this degree of despondency, as could my wife, and I felt sick and tired of the relentless and uncompromising scrutiny of others, and I wondered just how much of myself I had to sacrifice before it was sufficient to gain even a small amount of respect from those around me.
And so we argued, and he left in anger, and his parting shot hit hard and it hit deep, and I deserved it. And I sat for a while in my chair with my head in my hands, and I indulged myself for a little while in self-pity, and then I berated myself for this and most of all for my obstinacy, and all the other flaws that my abominable father had bequeathed me. And then I stood up, and I tried, as I always did, to draw a line at the end of a bad day. I decided to go home, sleep, and the following morning to go to my uncle and, if necessary, kneel down before him and beg for his forgiveness, or do whatever it was that it would take to redeem myself in his eyes. I would pick up a sword for him, if he asked.
When I entered the house, I saw that there was a light, but it did not trouble me. It was not yet very late, and I had not expected her to have gone to her chamber. Most evenings I would go into my study, but tonight I simply wanted to sleep. My head was still aching, and there was a strong possibility now that it could get worse. If I got to bed straight away I would be well enough in the morning to deliver an apology the sincerity of which would be, I prayed, quite apparent. I could only hope that my uncle would be willing to hear it. I suspected that in his place I might not be - but then he was, as I had amply demonstrated that evening - a much better man than I.
I headed for the stairs, and as I reached the first step, I heard a door open. And there stood my wife.
'I thought you would be dining with your uncle this evening,' she said.
'We changed our plans,' I said, for I had no intention of telling her we had argued.
'Are you hungry?'
'Not particularly,' I said, hiding my surprise at her question. And, indeed, when I was distressed I often lost my appetite, one of the reasons I had been so ill the previous year.
'I was going to eat,' she said. 'Will you join me?'
'I confess that I am rather tired. It was a... trying day. I thought I might go to bed.'
She looked exasperated. 'Will you at least join me for a few minutes?' she said. 'Or would that make the day even more trying?'
'That depends on whether or not you continue saying things like that.'
She closed her eyes, and appeared to be attempting to compose herself. Then she opened them, and even tried to smile. 'I promise to be the epitome of good manners.'
'Then I shall join you for a few minutes,' I said, a little warily, for nothing good had come of any encounter between us recently, but this was the closest we had had to a civil exchange in some time. I followed her into her sitting room; and it was, I realized, as I went in, indeed a while since I had last been in there. Nothing appeared to have changed, but this was very much her part of the house, and after I went in, I stood a little apprehensively to one side of the door, and folded my arms.
She came in, sat down, and looked at me standing there. 'When I said I was going to eat, I did not mean that I was planning on eating you,' she said. 'You can sit down and relax.'
'I instantly feel more at my ease,' I said, but sat in the chair to the right of her. 'Was there something in particular that you wanted?'
'I wanted to talk to you.'
I leaned forward and put my hands on my knees. 'Éowyn, please do not take this badly, but I really am very tired. If you feel we should be talking, I would rather we did it in the morning.'
'I do not like going to bed with unfinished business.'
'And I prefer to sleep on things.'
We looked at each other in silence.
'Talk away,' I said at length, with a wave of my hand, and falling back wearily into the chair, 'but please remember that I asked if we could postpone this interview.'
She sighed. 'Your uncle came to see me this morning - '
'I know.'
'And he said that we should talk.'
'And did he say if we should talk before or after sleeping?'
She gave me an angry look. 'Are you doing this intentionally?'
'No, it simply amuses me that after counselling me for all these years, my uncle has begun to dispense advice to you also. But I was wondering if he had anything to suggest other than simply "talk".'
'It would not be bad advice to you. I wish you would heed it.'
'I see that we are now moving directly from "talk" to accusation.' I stood up, annoyed that I had been persuaded to come into this room for nothing more than another scuffle. 'Was this all you had to say to me? That I should talk more?'
She stood up and moved opposite me. Her eyes were glistening and she was shaking her head. 'I cannot understand why I even tried.'
'Indeed, my lady,' I said sharply, 'I did ask you not to.' And I began to make for the door.
'Do not walk away from me!' she commanded, and her voice was now angry.
I turned to look at her in astonishment. 'I beg your pardon?'
'Stay here and face me, if you dare!' she shot back, and her eyes were blazing at me.
'If I dare? I think, Éowyn, that you over-estimate your capacity to induce fear. Although you most certainly provoke.'
'What then is it that you fear? Why do you run from me?'
'Whatever it is that I fear, my lady,' I replied, and I heard the anger building in my own voice, for it seemed that once again she was drawing our conversation towards her favourite theme of my spinelessness, 'it is most certainly not you.'
She moved rapidly towards me and I realized suddenly that she was raising her hand to hit me and, with a quick movement, I lifted my left hand, reached for her arm as it rose to strike me, and blocked her blow. And there we stood, touching properly for the first time in months, glaring at each other, with my left hand holding her right wrist.
All of a sudden her beautiful face creased. 'My arm,' she whispered. And I looked down at where I was holding her, and there was a trickle of red, coming down from her wrist along her arm. It seemed that as I had grasped at her, my silver ring had caught her, and as a result she was bleeding.
I was still shaking from the sudden descent into ferocity of our exchange. And I looked at her lovely face, shocked and dismayed, and then I looked at my hand, which was still gripping her wrist, and which was now smeared with her blood, and all the rage and frustration and disappointment and self-loathing that had been building up inside me at least since a winter's afternoon in Ithilien suddenly burst out from me. I dropped her arm as if it had burnt me and then, tearing at the ring on my finger, I pulled it off and, with as much strength as I could muster, I flung it across the room, cursing the day that I had put it on, the man who had left it to me, and the house whose taint it symbolized and which never ceased to torment me. Through my tears and my fury, I could just about make out Éowyn, her hands up against her face, and she seemed to be shaking and very frightened by this change in me, as indeed was I. I pressed my hands to my head and made to leave the room but, as I did, I passed by a cabinet standing against the wall and, clenching my fist, I punched it through its glass case.
Then I quit the room, went to my study, and drank myself into a stupor for only the second time in my life, falling into an uneasy sleep on the couch. And when I woke very late the following morning, a sour taste in my mouth, it was to find that the Lady of Emyn Arnen had departed for Edoras, taking with her our children.