standard disclaimers apply.
The hour grew late and Farmir, husband of Éowyn and Steward of Gondor had not yet returned home. His wife sat in their home in Minas Tirith waiting for his arrival from the week long journey that he had been a part of. It was his job to help keep the city safe, and part of that meant potrolling the borders of the lands in pursuit of stray orcs and other beasts.
Éowyn drummed her fingers on the table fiercly, the time ticking away slowly at her heart. She longed to see her beloved, to be in his company and his arms. She lusted for his touch and cried for his absence. It had been too long.
Shadows flickered in the firelight of their home, casting an eerie feel. The sky outside was dark and full of stars, the wind bitingly cold. Éowyn's soul felt empty.
From the road outside Éowyn could hear the clomping of horse hooves on the streets. Perhaps it was Faramir, finally come home?
Éowyn ran to the door and opened it to a hunched over figure that stood wrapped in a heavy cloak with weary eyes. This was her Faramir, but he was not. Something was very amiss.
Faramir limped in the house and collapsed near the fireplace, his breath shallow and labored. He clutched at his side in pain, his face grimacing as he did so.
Éowyn closed the door and walked over to him to kneel by his side. She moved the long greasy locks of hair off of his face and noted that he had broken out in a cold sweat. It was then that she moved his hand and undid his cloak to see what ailed him.
A large gash from perhaps a knife or sword lead from just below his ribcage and across his belly. In some places the blood had dried, but in others the blood flew freely and willingly down his torso. There was also an arrow, not a full one, but a broken piece of one stuck in his shoulder. And another one stuck out of his left ribcage where the lung should be.
"What happened?" Éowyn cried, the tears leaking down her cheeks. "You must tell me what happened."
Faramir opened his eyes and looked over at her. He had begun to spilt blood out of the corner of his mouth.
"Orcs. . . .ambushed from hills. . . .everyone died," he choked out as he coughed, more blood running down his chin. It was obvious that this was a dying man.
"Farmir, you have to hold on, I can get medicine; Aragorn can cure you," she pleaded in a cracking voice as she grasped his face in her hands. She needed to touch him, give him reassurance that everything would be alright, even though deep in her heart she knew all was lost.
Faramir was going to die.
A smile crossed over Faramir's features and his eyes glazed over with unshed tears. He looked at his wife as if she were the most beautiful, loving thing he had ever seen. And in his eyes she was. He was going to miss her terribly.
"I came back to see you one last time," Farmir whispered as he reached a hand up to cup her face. "One last time."
Éowyn trembled terribly as she leaned down to kiss his forehead and cradle his body in her arms as he drifted away from life. She could feel his form relax in her arms, his soul fleeting away from her. He was gone. Forever. To return no more.
A loud wail echoed through the streets, the cry of pain and suffering, of a woman in anguish. Éowyn rocked back and forth with her dead husband in her arms, the blood splattering across her dress.
How was she ever going to live without him? He was her everything, and without him she had no hope.
"Faramir," she whispered into his matted hair. "Come back. . . ."
Éowyn's body trembled with her sobbing. She let her tears fall upon his blood stained face. If only she could have him for one more second. That's all she would ask for. Just one more second to tell him how much she loved him, needed him.
Not much more time passed for Éowyn as she sat in Faramir's lifeless company before she knew what was to be done. What had to be done.
Setting Faramir's body gently on the floor, Éowyn stood and walked to the front door, opening it and walking out to Faramir's horse. Upon the saddle hung a spare dagger that he always kept in case of emergency. She took it and carried it back inside, her hand gripping the hilt tightly.
Resuming her place by the fireside and by Faramir, Éowyn unsheathed the dagger and pressed the flat side of the blade against her forehead, blessing it. She sat for another few minutes with Faramir in front of her, his eyes still open and lifeless, a haunting reminder of the person he one was.
"Forgive me," Éowyn said to no one in particular as she raised the blade to point it at her heart.
Her hands were shaky as she held the point against her skin, poking into the fabric of the dress and causing the smallest flicker of blood to rise to the surface. It was painful, but she cared not, for she had surpassed the life between physical pain and the pain that hurt her soul.
She took in a breath and drew the dagger into her skin, slicing open her chest and cutting the flesh of her heart, blood dripping from the wound as it had dripped from Faramir. She cried out softly at the feeling of her life slipping away. Although it was a pleasant feeling, dying.
The door burst open at that time and she turned her head to see Aragorn standing there, alarm crossing his features. But she had no time to process much thought, for everything was fading quickly from her vision. She was dying, she was gone.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The black took over her and she felt dizzy and lost as she flailed around wildly for anything of substance. Fear overtook her sense of ease. Then a small flicker of light grew through the dark until it cleared up into a beautiful wilderness free with horses and flowers, and moutains capped with snow in the distance. A magnificent place indeed.
She looked down to see that she was barefoot, and the soft grass tickled her feet. A soft breeze blew and removed her golden locks from out of her eyes and off of her back. Then she held up her hands to see that the blood once there was now gone. As was the dress that she had worn. It was now replaced with a beautiful dress of the clearest blue. She took so much careful time inspecting the things around her that she did not here the footsteps that approached.
"I knew you would not be far behind," a rough voice called from behind her.
She turned around sharply, hope filling every cavity of her body. She wanted the sound of that voice to be him. she needed it to be him, for she feared that she would be in anguish forever were it not.
And there he stood in the breeze, his hair now wild and free, his clothing casual and no trace of blood. He looked young and healthy, happiness in his eyes. And he opened his arms to her.
Éowyn ran to Faramir quickly, knocking him down against the grass, a small 'oomph' being released as she had knocked the air out of him. And then she showered his face with kisses until he had captured her lips with his own. They shared an intimate moment in each other's arms, so happy to see each other so well.
"What is this place?" Éowyn asked as she laid on Faramir's chest, her eyes scanning the land in her vision.
"A dwelling of souls. Our time together in life will be forever preserved here. We will always be together, always be happy."
Éowyn smiled and kissed him again. She marvelled at the life in his eyes, the past now forotten. It didn't matter anymore, really. All that mattered was that they were together. And forever in his arms she would stay.
a/n: i figured that i would make a contribution to the lack of Faramir/Éowyn stories out there. they do make a handsome couple. if you liked the story, don't forget to review. and even if you didn't like the story, go ahead and tell me so. the flames will be used to light the hobbit's pipes. comments can be sent through AIM at CURSEoftheSCOTS.
The hour grew late and Farmir, husband of Éowyn and Steward of Gondor had not yet returned home. His wife sat in their home in Minas Tirith waiting for his arrival from the week long journey that he had been a part of. It was his job to help keep the city safe, and part of that meant potrolling the borders of the lands in pursuit of stray orcs and other beasts.
Éowyn drummed her fingers on the table fiercly, the time ticking away slowly at her heart. She longed to see her beloved, to be in his company and his arms. She lusted for his touch and cried for his absence. It had been too long.
Shadows flickered in the firelight of their home, casting an eerie feel. The sky outside was dark and full of stars, the wind bitingly cold. Éowyn's soul felt empty.
From the road outside Éowyn could hear the clomping of horse hooves on the streets. Perhaps it was Faramir, finally come home?
Éowyn ran to the door and opened it to a hunched over figure that stood wrapped in a heavy cloak with weary eyes. This was her Faramir, but he was not. Something was very amiss.
Faramir limped in the house and collapsed near the fireplace, his breath shallow and labored. He clutched at his side in pain, his face grimacing as he did so.
Éowyn closed the door and walked over to him to kneel by his side. She moved the long greasy locks of hair off of his face and noted that he had broken out in a cold sweat. It was then that she moved his hand and undid his cloak to see what ailed him.
A large gash from perhaps a knife or sword lead from just below his ribcage and across his belly. In some places the blood had dried, but in others the blood flew freely and willingly down his torso. There was also an arrow, not a full one, but a broken piece of one stuck in his shoulder. And another one stuck out of his left ribcage where the lung should be.
"What happened?" Éowyn cried, the tears leaking down her cheeks. "You must tell me what happened."
Faramir opened his eyes and looked over at her. He had begun to spilt blood out of the corner of his mouth.
"Orcs. . . .ambushed from hills. . . .everyone died," he choked out as he coughed, more blood running down his chin. It was obvious that this was a dying man.
"Farmir, you have to hold on, I can get medicine; Aragorn can cure you," she pleaded in a cracking voice as she grasped his face in her hands. She needed to touch him, give him reassurance that everything would be alright, even though deep in her heart she knew all was lost.
Faramir was going to die.
A smile crossed over Faramir's features and his eyes glazed over with unshed tears. He looked at his wife as if she were the most beautiful, loving thing he had ever seen. And in his eyes she was. He was going to miss her terribly.
"I came back to see you one last time," Farmir whispered as he reached a hand up to cup her face. "One last time."
Éowyn trembled terribly as she leaned down to kiss his forehead and cradle his body in her arms as he drifted away from life. She could feel his form relax in her arms, his soul fleeting away from her. He was gone. Forever. To return no more.
A loud wail echoed through the streets, the cry of pain and suffering, of a woman in anguish. Éowyn rocked back and forth with her dead husband in her arms, the blood splattering across her dress.
How was she ever going to live without him? He was her everything, and without him she had no hope.
"Faramir," she whispered into his matted hair. "Come back. . . ."
Éowyn's body trembled with her sobbing. She let her tears fall upon his blood stained face. If only she could have him for one more second. That's all she would ask for. Just one more second to tell him how much she loved him, needed him.
Not much more time passed for Éowyn as she sat in Faramir's lifeless company before she knew what was to be done. What had to be done.
Setting Faramir's body gently on the floor, Éowyn stood and walked to the front door, opening it and walking out to Faramir's horse. Upon the saddle hung a spare dagger that he always kept in case of emergency. She took it and carried it back inside, her hand gripping the hilt tightly.
Resuming her place by the fireside and by Faramir, Éowyn unsheathed the dagger and pressed the flat side of the blade against her forehead, blessing it. She sat for another few minutes with Faramir in front of her, his eyes still open and lifeless, a haunting reminder of the person he one was.
"Forgive me," Éowyn said to no one in particular as she raised the blade to point it at her heart.
Her hands were shaky as she held the point against her skin, poking into the fabric of the dress and causing the smallest flicker of blood to rise to the surface. It was painful, but she cared not, for she had surpassed the life between physical pain and the pain that hurt her soul.
She took in a breath and drew the dagger into her skin, slicing open her chest and cutting the flesh of her heart, blood dripping from the wound as it had dripped from Faramir. She cried out softly at the feeling of her life slipping away. Although it was a pleasant feeling, dying.
The door burst open at that time and she turned her head to see Aragorn standing there, alarm crossing his features. But she had no time to process much thought, for everything was fading quickly from her vision. She was dying, she was gone.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The black took over her and she felt dizzy and lost as she flailed around wildly for anything of substance. Fear overtook her sense of ease. Then a small flicker of light grew through the dark until it cleared up into a beautiful wilderness free with horses and flowers, and moutains capped with snow in the distance. A magnificent place indeed.
She looked down to see that she was barefoot, and the soft grass tickled her feet. A soft breeze blew and removed her golden locks from out of her eyes and off of her back. Then she held up her hands to see that the blood once there was now gone. As was the dress that she had worn. It was now replaced with a beautiful dress of the clearest blue. She took so much careful time inspecting the things around her that she did not here the footsteps that approached.
"I knew you would not be far behind," a rough voice called from behind her.
She turned around sharply, hope filling every cavity of her body. She wanted the sound of that voice to be him. she needed it to be him, for she feared that she would be in anguish forever were it not.
And there he stood in the breeze, his hair now wild and free, his clothing casual and no trace of blood. He looked young and healthy, happiness in his eyes. And he opened his arms to her.
Éowyn ran to Faramir quickly, knocking him down against the grass, a small 'oomph' being released as she had knocked the air out of him. And then she showered his face with kisses until he had captured her lips with his own. They shared an intimate moment in each other's arms, so happy to see each other so well.
"What is this place?" Éowyn asked as she laid on Faramir's chest, her eyes scanning the land in her vision.
"A dwelling of souls. Our time together in life will be forever preserved here. We will always be together, always be happy."
Éowyn smiled and kissed him again. She marvelled at the life in his eyes, the past now forotten. It didn't matter anymore, really. All that mattered was that they were together. And forever in his arms she would stay.
a/n: i figured that i would make a contribution to the lack of Faramir/Éowyn stories out there. they do make a handsome couple. if you liked the story, don't forget to review. and even if you didn't like the story, go ahead and tell me so. the flames will be used to light the hobbit's pipes. comments can be sent through AIM at CURSEoftheSCOTS.