Chapter 2 – Éowyn's Search
by Siberia
Éowyn was restless. She sighed while her pale fingers tapped the neck of her glass. "How much longer must I stand here like I am invisible?" she asked herself. Éowyn had begun to tire of watching her brother and the Lady Lothíriel. They were so obviously in love that it almost irritated her. In most circumstances, she would have found this situation amusing, for she could tease Éomer endlessly about his newfound interest.
While the Lady of Rohan studied her sibling and the Dol Amroth princess, she understood why Éomer was so attracted to the young maiden. Imrahil's daughter was lovely, charming, and she never failed to laugh at all of his silly jokes. However, the display Éowyn saw before her was simply too much to bear. She secretly thought that the sight of mutilated Orc corpses would not make her feel as ill in her stomach as she did now.
Éowyn had started a conversation with her betrothed's cousin, for she had become quite fond of Prince Imrahil and his family; for whatever gentleness Faramir had inherited from his mother, it ran strong in the rest of Finduilas' kin. Her discussion with Lothíriel began well, and they seemed to be on the verge of becoming friends. But now, The White Lady was feeling excluded. King Éomer had used his sister as an excuse to join in their talk, and at each pause, he would immediately enthral the young maiden with tales of his victorious battles. Éowyn rolled her eyes. How many times had she heard Éomer recount these exploits every time there was a pretty female guest in attendance? Unable to halt his endless storytelling, she became lonely in her boredom.
With nothing left to occupy her mind, Éowyn pressed the rim of her cup unto her lips and drank little sips of the wine. In an instant, she suddenly recalled that she had not spoken with Faramir for quite some time. Without further delay, her grey eyes began to scan the Golden Hall for her future husband. Faramir had acted very aloof with her ever since they had been trothplighted in front of the guests. She was puzzled by his behaviour, for he seemed normal throughout the entire day. The Lady of Rohan had become somewhat fretful when she realized that her betrothed was nowhere to be found. "Though I am grateful that I have found a valid reason to get away from these two," her mind uttered silently.
Glancing back at her smitten brother and the Lady Lothíriel, Éowyn interrupted their conversation and said, "I am truly sorry, but I must leave you now. I cannot seem to find the Lord Faramir. I must go search for him."
Imrahil's daughter seemed worried. She pleaded, "Oh, please hurry, my Lady, for we shall miss your company!" Éowyn was not surprised to hear her say this, for she was aware that it would be much more difficult for the couple to conceal their blossoming affection without her presence.
A slender grin crept onto Éomer's face, and he replied in jest, "Very well, but do not tarry long. For 'tis very dangerous for a woman to be wandering outside beneath the cloak of darkness."
The White Lady gave a dirty glare to her sibling. As she handed the Rohirrim King her wine glass, she uttered sarcastically, "I shan't, brother." It annoyed her every time Éomer pretended she was incapable of fending for herself. Obviously, he had forgotten the many times they had sparred together. More often than not, Éowyn had knocked the wind flat out of his body, her sword gleaming triumphantly at his neck. It wounded her brother's pride that his younger sister by four years could overcome his battle prowess. She smiled at the memory.
As she passed the doors of Meduseld, Éowyn's thoughts turned to the events of the day, which moved much too slowly for her taste. The funeral for her uncle Théoden, whom she loved as a father, was agonizingly painful. The ceremony was quite long, for it began in the morning and continued 'til the evening. She allowed her grief to consume her when she saw her uncle's lifeless body, and Faramir had stood by her side the whole time, giving her support when she needed it, even if it meant that his shirt would be drenched beyond repair with her tears. Éowyn had been most grateful for her betrothed's presence, for he had offered her light during her period of darkness.
When the funeral was over, King Éomer insisted to his visitors that the feast of the Golden Hall should be perceived as a celebration of life. The White Lady had been grateful for this, for she had experienced enough mourning for one day. Éowyn's heart had sung with delight when her brother publicly declared her betrothal to the Lord Faramir. She had enjoyed the compliment that Lord Aragorn had bestowed on her, for it made her feel less ashamed of her previous infatuation with him. At least he did not believe she was unattractive. When Éowyn had glimpsed the ethereal beauty of Queen Arwen, she realized how foolish she was to have hoped that Aragorn would fall for her. "Well, no matter," she said to herself. "I am with Faramir now, and he is everything to me."
In response to King Elessar's kindness, Éowyn had asked him to wish her joy in her marriage. Almost immediately, she sensed a great change in her future husband's demeanour. Faramir seemed to be ill with a headache, which she knew he suffered oft when he was profoundly worried. When she had inquired as to what was bothering him, he only gave her curt replies. "Why must he always withdraw from me when he feels upset?" Éowyn asked silently. "It irritates me so when he does that." Living with a deceitful snake like Gríma had caused her to possess a strong dislike for those who do not speak fully their mind.
The Lady of Rohan became aware of the slight chill in the air. Being one of the Rohirrim, she barely felt it, but wondered whether she should have brought Faramir's mantle along. Gondorians, such as her betrothed, were used to warmer weather. But she had already covered a great distance and did not wish to return to the staleness of Meduseld, so she continued her search.
Éowyn had walked beyond the gates of Edoras when she saw a lonely figure in the distance. As she slowly approached it, she saw that it was Faramir, staring peacefully at the night sky. She quietly admired his subtle beauty, his black clothes revealing some of his lithe and graceful form. Éowyn could not help but grin. "What did I ever see in Aragorn, when I have a such a handsome man like this all to myself?" she pondered. When she finally a stood an arm's length away from her Lord, Éowyn had noticed that his face glistened slightly under the moonlight, and she had discerned that his cheeks had recently been wet by tears. The White Lady could no longer endure to watch the love of her life in pain...