A/N: I love having time to write. Enter Merry's Heartbreak Hotel. Um...only one change, and that was artistic liscence. I'll explain at the bottom. (Ehehehe...Nick Bottom. Ready! Name what part I am to play and proceed. You, Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. What is Pyramus? A lover or a tyrant? A lover who kills himself for love. I am better in the part of a tyrant.) (I'll stop now. Flute shall stop now.)

Kindle My Heart

Lea of Mirkwood

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"Tell me about the lady Éowyn," said Faramir excitedly, leaning forward. Merry stared at him incredulously.

"What?" he exclaimed, his jaw dropping. Faramir smiled secretly. Merry didn't like that.

"Tell me about her. She seems so sad."

"Well her uncle died next to her. Does that tell you much?"

Faramir paled, and looked down. "Was she close to him? Her uncle, I mean. The king."

Merry looked to the side, trying not to reveal how much he cared about Éowyn's life. "He was like her father."

Faramir nodded, and looked up at the window that was now Éowyn's. "Why does she stay cold all the time?"

Merry was startled by this question, but then remembered how Éowyn had been* before she had been more open with him and spoke to him. It must be that way with Faramir.

"She's not at home, Faramir. She's been gravely hurt and she's in a strange land, without her brother, without her uncle, without anyone. You've got to understand that before you can understand anything about Éowyn."

Faramir nodded. "My heart goes out to her. She's lovely."

Merry bristled jealously. "She's like a flower." My flower.

Faramir nodded. "I understand. More than you know. More than you know."

The two walked in the garden all that day, but Éowyn did not come down.

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But the next morning, as the sun was beginning to rise and the dew gleaming on the flowers, Faramir found Éowyn standing on the eastward wall clad in a gown of white. He called to her and she came down from the wall and spoke with him. They spent the day together, and the day after that, and then Éowyn spent two days with Merry, and on the fifth day when Faramir and Éowyn stood again on the walls of the house.

"It is cold today," she said quietly. Faramir smiled and pulled something our from behind his back. It was a midnight blue mantle with embroidered silver stars. The soft blue of the fabric shone in the sunlight as Faramir whirled it about and placed it on Éowyn's shoulders.

"It was my mother's," he said quietly. Éowyn looked up at him in surprise. Why is he giving me something of his mother's to wear?

"Her name was Finduilas," he said, half to himself. "She died when I was very young."

Éowyn gently fingered the edge of the mantle. "Thank you, my lord."

Faramir looked away, trying to conceal his face. "Please, lady Éowyn, call me Faramir."

Éowyn shivered underneath the warm starry mantle, and it was not completely from the cold. The wind whipped from the north, freezing and biting and bringing tears to her eyes from it's sharpness.

"What do you look for, Éowyn?" asked Faramir.

"The Black Gate lies in that way, am I not correct?" she answered, narrowing her eyes against the wind. "It has been seven days yet since they rode away."

"Yes," said Faramir, standing behind her and resting his hands on her shoulders lightly. "Seven days. But please do not think ill of me if I say that those seven days have brought me a joy and a pain I never thought to know. Joy to see you' but pain, because now the fear and doubt of this evil time are grown dark indeed. Éowyn, I would not have this world end now yet I lose so soon what I have found."

"Lose what you have found, lord?" said Éowyn, deliberately formal. She ducked away from his arms and looked up at him gravely. "I do not know what you have found in these days that you could lose. But please, let us not speak of this," she said quickly, seeing he was about to speak again. "Let us not speak at all."

Faramir stared at her, at her face and whispered. "Nay, I would not have us speak."

"I wait for the stroke of doom," said Éowyn firmly, and turned back to the east. Faramir stepped next to her and looked also.

"Yes, we wait for the stroke of doom."

As they stood upon the wall together it seemed as though the world halted. The wind ceased to blow and it grew dark again. Silence, a deep oppressive silence, filled the air. The birds did not call, the bushes did not rustle, and Merry did not stir as he looked up at Faramir and Éowyn on the wall. In this frozen moment of terror, Faramir reached over to touch Éowyn's hand in reassurance, but her hand clutched at his. They laced their fingers together and looked out towards Mordor and the cold stillness.

"It reminds me of Númenor," said Faramir absently.

"Of Númenor?" asked Éowyn, suddenly becoming aware of the warmth of Faramir's hands around hers, and was glad of it. She made no move to pull away.

"Yes. I often dream of it. It seems so like this. The great dark wave climbing over the green lands and above the hills and coming on, darkness unescapable."

Éowyn cringed at the idea, flinched in fear. "Then you do think that darkness is coming?" she asked in a light voice, almost like the whisper of the wind. "Darkness unescapable?" She leaned back against Faramir without knowing she did, and he held both her small hands in one of his, and put his other arm around her thin shoulders.

"No," he said, looking down at her head resting against his chest. Her face was upturned, looking up at him and her skin shone like the moon. "It was but a picture in my mind. My mind tells me that great evil is falling, and that we stand at the end of days. But my heart says nay. I feel as light as a wind. A hope and a joy is in my heart that no reason can deny."

They looked deep into each other's eyes. Faramir felt his heart quake for the first time out of battle as he looked into Éowyn's eyes, which were the color of the Great River on a cloudy day.

"Oh, Éowyn, Éowyn, White Lady of Rohan," cried Faramir. "In this hour I do not believe that any darkness will endure!"

He bent his head down and kissed her on the forehead fiercely and then held her close. She wound her fingers in the edge of Faramir's tunic as if something wild and cruel was trying to snatch her away. Just then a great wind rose up and blew. They staggered in its force, and for a brief moment they thought that the dark wave was indeed climbing over the fields and the hills.

"Éowyn," cried Faramir and cupped her face in his hands. Tears sprang to both of their eyes as their hearts said that this was the end of days. He pulled her to him and kissed her softly and sweetly as the wind roared around them. Again the petals were ripped from their flowerbushes and danced around them like butterflies, catching in their hair and clothing. Their hair streamed out and mingled in the air. Tears ran down Éowyn's face and she made no move to wipe them away. And the Shadow departed, and the sun was unveiled and light leaped forth and the waters of the Anduin shone like silver and in all the houses of the City men sang for the joy that welled up in their hearts.

But in all the joy there was one who was crying as though his heart was breaking.

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Oh man. I cried writing all that. I don't think ANYTHING is more romantic than Faramir and Éowyn.

Note to Miss Cam: Bomir is doing fine. For some reason he seems to prefer the brown raw eggs to the white ones.

Check out my fic Another Brick in the Wall! It requires no prior knowledge of the really bad movie it was based on. Well, I mean, the characters weren't bad, and the dialogue was pretty sharp – except for the excessive use of the word that rhymes with 'pluck' – but the plot of the alien invasion was reeeally bad and the ending sucked.

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