~ ** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ** ~
~Part Two~
~ ** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ** ~
Involving that age old conflict: duty vs. honor (which, I might add, is greatly improved with naughty implications)
~ ** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ** ~
Aragorn gently stroked the sleeping Éowyn's loose golden hair. His exhaustion made it an effort even to move his hand off of the white feather pillow. He finally collapsed onto his back, utterly spent, and felt his eyes involuntarily wander to admire the graceful curves of Éowyn's bare shoulders.
"So lovely . . ." Aragorn found himself thinking.
She was nothing like Arwen. Aragorn suddenly remembered the cold emptiness their first night together had left within him. How he had watched her sleeping figure, so very reminiscent of the forgotten stone statues tucked into the dark, hidden corners of Lothlorien. That night . . . not so very long ago when he had realized his terrible mistake. The memory still pained him - guilt, like a thousand shards of glass pierced his heart. He had never loved her. Never. And she could never know. No one could ever know. They had both made their choice, right or painfully wrong, there was nothing that could be done now.
He gazed idly at Éowyn's peaceful face and suddenly realized that his lips bore the smile of a man happily captivated and completed by a woman. She was, so . . . so perfect. She made him feel so compete, so . . . happy . . .
Yes, complete, he finally felt complete. After secretly desiring Éowyn for so long she was with him at last. And the mighty ruler of Gondor suddenly felt the uncomplicated human need to simply be with her. It was the only thing he wanted. He reflected that it was the only thing he'd ever wanted. And ironically, he sighed, it was the one and only thing he absolutely could not have. Arwen had pledged her immortal life to him and he must remain loyal to her no matter what the cost. But . . .
He looked over at Éowyn for the hundreth time.
"Now I desire nothing . . . no one but her."
Aragorn turned convulsively away. He put his hand to his brow in a gesture of confusion, despair, and bitter regret. Why had he been so foolish? Why ? What had he been thinking then, when he'd married her? And what had he been thinking just now, taking Faramir's wife to his bed? But no! He did not regret that. He smiled at the memory. What was done was done, be it foolish or wise, accident or destiny.
Quite suddenly, the dangerous nature of the position they were in struck Aragorn. Here they were, laying completely undressed in a guest bedroom at nearly lunchtime. This was very definitely not good. People would be looking for them and Faramir could well be scouring the castle by now!
"Must get up." Aragorn decided with brevity.
He hauled himself out of a warm bed for the second time that morning and began picking clothes up off the stone floor. His clothes were scattered on top of Éowyn's dress just as he had left them (although he had been too rushed to notice where exactly his clothes went). Dressing himself quickly, he draped Éowyn's dress over the bed and knelt to kiss her forehead. Breathing in her scent, he felt himself smile again. Arwen always smelt of freshly fallen snow and sweet flowers. But Éowyn smelled, like, like a human woman. She was warm springtime air, fresh cream and (very, very faintly), wild strawberries. He put his lips to her ear and whispered her name a few times in an effort to wake her. She finally woke, after a bit of shaking.
It took a few seconds of puzzlement before Éowyn smiled at remembering where she was and what/who she was doing there. She lifted her hand and lovingly let her fingers trail down Aragorn's unshaven cheek. No, Éowyn had no regrets either. Aragorn drew himself back up to his full height, before sitting down on the bed beside Éowyn.
"You should dress yourself," he said plainly. "Faramir will be looking for you."
Éowyn's face seemed to fall at the mention of her husband. She looked down at the floor.
"Why am I married to him Aragorn?" She almost pleaded. "Why?"
"Because I was foolish enough not to marry you." He paused. "I am sorry Éowyn."
Éowyn brightened at this. Aragorn reached out and took her pale face in his hands.
"I say to you now that you are lovely Éowyn and I do love you."
The words alone could have been lies, but the eyes of the speaker held a look of intense honesty. Éowyn felt a supremely pure love for her king, the kind of love that crosses seas and oceans, the kind of love that overcomes all . . .
"You'd better get get dressed." Aragorn repeated. With that he was up and out the door.
~ ** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ** ~
Faramir opened the chamber door a crack, looked to both sides making sure there was no one else there, and hesitantly slipped into the dimly lit room. A few seconds after he shut the door, a graceful, blonde figure materialized out of the shadows.
"You're late." Legolas' tone was cocky and slightly arrogant, but his face bore a smile of elvish delight that clearly said. "I'm glad to see you."
"I was looking for Éowyn." Faramir explained. He suddenly cast his eyes downward on the floor. "When I woke up she wasn't there."
"Where was she?"
"In the armory cleaning battle gear."
"Does she know about us?" the elf breathed.
"No," Faramir said looking up, his voice was tinged with guilt. Legolas' question had reminde him why exactly they were here.
~ ** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ** ~
The sun had not yet risen on Lothlorien as Arwen prepared her horse for the tedious journey ahead. She led her steed slowly onto the beginnings of the path she would be taking. Arwen had gotten into the odd habit of setting out on long journeys in the very early morning before anyone was awake. But Lórien never fully sleeps.
Galadriel's luminous figure floated through the darkness. She glided down the stairs, stopping directly after the last step. Now eye level, the two elves simply watched each other, silent.
" . . . I wish . . . I did not have to leave . . . I wish it did not have to be . . ." This time it was Arwen's voice in Galadriel's mind.
"You made your choice long ago . . . but perhaps some good will come of it . . ."
Arwen nodded ever so slightly. She felt the strong, uncanny desire to run into Galadriel's arms, to embrace her. But experience told her the Lady of Lórien was not the type to eagerly accept such embraces. She placed her right hand on her breast and bowed her head in the fomal elvish gesture of respect. Galadriel raised her hand in that uniquely personal farewell she always used.
The Lady watched Arwen set out, walking down the forest path guiding the horse behind her. She watched until the younger elf disappeared behind the trees.
"Nobody follows my councel anymore . . ." The thoughts tore at Galadriel's heart.
~ ** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ** ~
Éowyn shuddered as she stepped out of the armory into the seemingly fresh air the hallway offered. She loved weapons, but she hated cleaning them and cleaning them in the stench of the armory was even worse. The blood and grime of battle seemed a constant fixture on some of the weapons and the smell they left was intolerable. She walked down the hallway a bit, but stopped as the memory of that morning washed over her. Smiling with remembrance, she made her way to a nearby window and stared out into the fall afternoon.
The cool breeze caressed her face as Éowyn reflected on the love she felt steadily growing inside her heart.
"I love him . . ." her lips slowly crept into a fufilled smile.
And it was not just lust that she felt now for her king. It was the simple need, the longing to be near him always. She let out a content sigh. Faramir didn't matter. He paid such little attention to her anyway. His mind always seemed to be elsewhere these days . . .
Ah, it was such a pleasant sensation to remember his hands touching her bare skin. Her body felt chills of desire at the mere memory. Every inch of her being seemed to long for him. Every inch separately straining to find him, though he was not there. And the most magical thing about it all was the simple fact that Éowyn felt happy. She felt content, satisfied, competed! It was a completeness that she had not felt ever in her life, not even as a child.
None of the impossible details of this bothered her. Arwen, Faramir and all of Middle Earth didn't matter, honor was of no importance, and even the wrinkles in her dress were of no consequence. However, there was one possible problem that Éowyn suddenly remembered. Her hands clutched her lower stomach. She had already borne Faramir a healthy boy, there was no doubt that she could very well become pregrant with the heir Aragorn so wanted. The thought of this was both horrifying and lovely. His child - a little piece of him growing slowly inside her womb would be so wonderful . . .
"No! No, what am I thinking?" Éowyn now thought of the distressing implications of all this.
"And I highly doubt I'm with child anyway, after just one time . . ." She stared out the window again.
A firmly masculine hand touched Éowyn's shoulder. After years of life in the wild, Aragorn had developed the uncanny ability to move without any sound. She turned to look into not the smiling, content face she had last seen, but a face full of sadness and distress. "Éowyn . . ." Aragorn looked at the floor.
The smile on Éowyn's face vanished as a summer breeze yielding to winter's chill. She gently touched his face with the tips of her fingers in an act of comfort. Aragorn looked up at Éowyn before taking her fingers in his hand slowly lowering them and letting them fall loose. The gesture struck at Éowyn's heart. She knew the words even as Aragorn spoke them.
"Arwen has sacrificed everything - disobeyed everyone to be with me."
" . . . no . . . no . . ." she whispered.
"Éowyn!" He clasped her upper arms in his hands. "I love you! More than I have loved any woman, mortal or immortal! But we cannot do this! You have a husband and I a wife."
She cast her eyes downward on the floor. "Aragorn," she looked up at him. "Every second you are not by my side, every moment you are with Arwen my heart is slowly being torn apart. Why will you not offer me that love you give her?"
"You have all my love Éowyn." He tried to embrace her.
"No! No I do not!" She recoiled suddenly, stepping back.
"Éowyn! I do not love her!"
"So you would live a life of misery, not loving her, not letting yourself love me? You would not be the only one to be miserable . . ." She looked away.
"There is also honor to uphold! Mine and yours!"
"The words you spoke this morning seemed a bit lacking in honor, my lord!" She spat the words.
"Éowyn . . ."
She turned away and started down the corridor. "Let me alone!"
Her sleeve was wet with salt tears before she reached the courtyard. Éowyn's hands flew to her neck to clutch the necklace she wore for comfort only to discover its absence . . .
~ ** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ** ~
~Part Two~
~ ** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ** ~
Involving that age old conflict: duty vs. honor (which, I might add, is greatly improved with naughty implications)
~ ** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ** ~
Aragorn gently stroked the sleeping Éowyn's loose golden hair. His exhaustion made it an effort even to move his hand off of the white feather pillow. He finally collapsed onto his back, utterly spent, and felt his eyes involuntarily wander to admire the graceful curves of Éowyn's bare shoulders.
"So lovely . . ." Aragorn found himself thinking.
She was nothing like Arwen. Aragorn suddenly remembered the cold emptiness their first night together had left within him. How he had watched her sleeping figure, so very reminiscent of the forgotten stone statues tucked into the dark, hidden corners of Lothlorien. That night . . . not so very long ago when he had realized his terrible mistake. The memory still pained him - guilt, like a thousand shards of glass pierced his heart. He had never loved her. Never. And she could never know. No one could ever know. They had both made their choice, right or painfully wrong, there was nothing that could be done now.
He gazed idly at Éowyn's peaceful face and suddenly realized that his lips bore the smile of a man happily captivated and completed by a woman. She was, so . . . so perfect. She made him feel so compete, so . . . happy . . .
Yes, complete, he finally felt complete. After secretly desiring Éowyn for so long she was with him at last. And the mighty ruler of Gondor suddenly felt the uncomplicated human need to simply be with her. It was the only thing he wanted. He reflected that it was the only thing he'd ever wanted. And ironically, he sighed, it was the one and only thing he absolutely could not have. Arwen had pledged her immortal life to him and he must remain loyal to her no matter what the cost. But . . .
He looked over at Éowyn for the hundreth time.
"Now I desire nothing . . . no one but her."
Aragorn turned convulsively away. He put his hand to his brow in a gesture of confusion, despair, and bitter regret. Why had he been so foolish? Why ? What had he been thinking then, when he'd married her? And what had he been thinking just now, taking Faramir's wife to his bed? But no! He did not regret that. He smiled at the memory. What was done was done, be it foolish or wise, accident or destiny.
Quite suddenly, the dangerous nature of the position they were in struck Aragorn. Here they were, laying completely undressed in a guest bedroom at nearly lunchtime. This was very definitely not good. People would be looking for them and Faramir could well be scouring the castle by now!
"Must get up." Aragorn decided with brevity.
He hauled himself out of a warm bed for the second time that morning and began picking clothes up off the stone floor. His clothes were scattered on top of Éowyn's dress just as he had left them (although he had been too rushed to notice where exactly his clothes went). Dressing himself quickly, he draped Éowyn's dress over the bed and knelt to kiss her forehead. Breathing in her scent, he felt himself smile again. Arwen always smelt of freshly fallen snow and sweet flowers. But Éowyn smelled, like, like a human woman. She was warm springtime air, fresh cream and (very, very faintly), wild strawberries. He put his lips to her ear and whispered her name a few times in an effort to wake her. She finally woke, after a bit of shaking.
It took a few seconds of puzzlement before Éowyn smiled at remembering where she was and what/who she was doing there. She lifted her hand and lovingly let her fingers trail down Aragorn's unshaven cheek. No, Éowyn had no regrets either. Aragorn drew himself back up to his full height, before sitting down on the bed beside Éowyn.
"You should dress yourself," he said plainly. "Faramir will be looking for you."
Éowyn's face seemed to fall at the mention of her husband. She looked down at the floor.
"Why am I married to him Aragorn?" She almost pleaded. "Why?"
"Because I was foolish enough not to marry you." He paused. "I am sorry Éowyn."
Éowyn brightened at this. Aragorn reached out and took her pale face in his hands.
"I say to you now that you are lovely Éowyn and I do love you."
The words alone could have been lies, but the eyes of the speaker held a look of intense honesty. Éowyn felt a supremely pure love for her king, the kind of love that crosses seas and oceans, the kind of love that overcomes all . . .
"You'd better get get dressed." Aragorn repeated. With that he was up and out the door.
~ ** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ** ~
Faramir opened the chamber door a crack, looked to both sides making sure there was no one else there, and hesitantly slipped into the dimly lit room. A few seconds after he shut the door, a graceful, blonde figure materialized out of the shadows.
"You're late." Legolas' tone was cocky and slightly arrogant, but his face bore a smile of elvish delight that clearly said. "I'm glad to see you."
"I was looking for Éowyn." Faramir explained. He suddenly cast his eyes downward on the floor. "When I woke up she wasn't there."
"Where was she?"
"In the armory cleaning battle gear."
"Does she know about us?" the elf breathed.
"No," Faramir said looking up, his voice was tinged with guilt. Legolas' question had reminde him why exactly they were here.
~ ** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ** ~
The sun had not yet risen on Lothlorien as Arwen prepared her horse for the tedious journey ahead. She led her steed slowly onto the beginnings of the path she would be taking. Arwen had gotten into the odd habit of setting out on long journeys in the very early morning before anyone was awake. But Lórien never fully sleeps.
Galadriel's luminous figure floated through the darkness. She glided down the stairs, stopping directly after the last step. Now eye level, the two elves simply watched each other, silent.
" . . . I wish . . . I did not have to leave . . . I wish it did not have to be . . ." This time it was Arwen's voice in Galadriel's mind.
"You made your choice long ago . . . but perhaps some good will come of it . . ."
Arwen nodded ever so slightly. She felt the strong, uncanny desire to run into Galadriel's arms, to embrace her. But experience told her the Lady of Lórien was not the type to eagerly accept such embraces. She placed her right hand on her breast and bowed her head in the fomal elvish gesture of respect. Galadriel raised her hand in that uniquely personal farewell she always used.
The Lady watched Arwen set out, walking down the forest path guiding the horse behind her. She watched until the younger elf disappeared behind the trees.
"Nobody follows my councel anymore . . ." The thoughts tore at Galadriel's heart.
~ ** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ** ~
Éowyn shuddered as she stepped out of the armory into the seemingly fresh air the hallway offered. She loved weapons, but she hated cleaning them and cleaning them in the stench of the armory was even worse. The blood and grime of battle seemed a constant fixture on some of the weapons and the smell they left was intolerable. She walked down the hallway a bit, but stopped as the memory of that morning washed over her. Smiling with remembrance, she made her way to a nearby window and stared out into the fall afternoon.
The cool breeze caressed her face as Éowyn reflected on the love she felt steadily growing inside her heart.
"I love him . . ." her lips slowly crept into a fufilled smile.
And it was not just lust that she felt now for her king. It was the simple need, the longing to be near him always. She let out a content sigh. Faramir didn't matter. He paid such little attention to her anyway. His mind always seemed to be elsewhere these days . . .
Ah, it was such a pleasant sensation to remember his hands touching her bare skin. Her body felt chills of desire at the mere memory. Every inch of her being seemed to long for him. Every inch separately straining to find him, though he was not there. And the most magical thing about it all was the simple fact that Éowyn felt happy. She felt content, satisfied, competed! It was a completeness that she had not felt ever in her life, not even as a child.
None of the impossible details of this bothered her. Arwen, Faramir and all of Middle Earth didn't matter, honor was of no importance, and even the wrinkles in her dress were of no consequence. However, there was one possible problem that Éowyn suddenly remembered. Her hands clutched her lower stomach. She had already borne Faramir a healthy boy, there was no doubt that she could very well become pregrant with the heir Aragorn so wanted. The thought of this was both horrifying and lovely. His child - a little piece of him growing slowly inside her womb would be so wonderful . . .
"No! No, what am I thinking?" Éowyn now thought of the distressing implications of all this.
"And I highly doubt I'm with child anyway, after just one time . . ." She stared out the window again.
A firmly masculine hand touched Éowyn's shoulder. After years of life in the wild, Aragorn had developed the uncanny ability to move without any sound. She turned to look into not the smiling, content face she had last seen, but a face full of sadness and distress. "Éowyn . . ." Aragorn looked at the floor.
The smile on Éowyn's face vanished as a summer breeze yielding to winter's chill. She gently touched his face with the tips of her fingers in an act of comfort. Aragorn looked up at Éowyn before taking her fingers in his hand slowly lowering them and letting them fall loose. The gesture struck at Éowyn's heart. She knew the words even as Aragorn spoke them.
"Arwen has sacrificed everything - disobeyed everyone to be with me."
" . . . no . . . no . . ." she whispered.
"Éowyn!" He clasped her upper arms in his hands. "I love you! More than I have loved any woman, mortal or immortal! But we cannot do this! You have a husband and I a wife."
She cast her eyes downward on the floor. "Aragorn," she looked up at him. "Every second you are not by my side, every moment you are with Arwen my heart is slowly being torn apart. Why will you not offer me that love you give her?"
"You have all my love Éowyn." He tried to embrace her.
"No! No I do not!" She recoiled suddenly, stepping back.
"Éowyn! I do not love her!"
"So you would live a life of misery, not loving her, not letting yourself love me? You would not be the only one to be miserable . . ." She looked away.
"There is also honor to uphold! Mine and yours!"
"The words you spoke this morning seemed a bit lacking in honor, my lord!" She spat the words.
"Éowyn . . ."
She turned away and started down the corridor. "Let me alone!"
Her sleeve was wet with salt tears before she reached the courtyard. Éowyn's hands flew to her neck to clutch the necklace she wore for comfort only to discover its absence . . .
~ ** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ** ~