Chapter Two

Eowyn loved to wander the streets of my city. I derived that from the fact that every morning during her visit, when I would rush to her chambers to be the first to greet her, the maidens would tell me she had already departed for her walk. It was never hard to spot her in the crowd – she was one of the few women with hair like the sun. If fire could be touched and was spun of silk than it would be Eowyn's hair, and my brother had taught me to clasp my hands behind my back whenever I felt an oncoming urge to run my fingers through it.

However, on that particular morning I could find no sign of her – I even went to the very center of the city on the east side of it to see if she had gone to buy flowers, but it turned out that not a soul had seen the White Lady pass through even the flower side of the market place. I folded my across my chest and drummed my gloved fingers against my bicep in wonder – where could she be? What a sight I must have been: sitting on my horse and looking very puzzled and absent in the middle of the street. I remember people stopping to stare at me, but I also remember not caring.

The morning sun had risen over the dim horizon hours ago and was now in the middle of it's journey to the top of the sky. I felt it grow warm over me and squinted into the brightening blueness – it was already nine o'clock and I figured that I would just have to take the heat from Eowyn later about not inviting her to breakfast. I lightly chucked the reins and Tide, my horse and one of my dearest friends, began to trot four buildings over to the inn I was supposed to have been at an hour ago.

While tying my horse outside the building, however, the worn oak doors pushed open and the moment my gaze turned to her my heart stopped; not so much in fear as in awe and dumbstruck wonderment. Eowyn looked very angry, and unspeakably beautiful. I quickly finished the job and took a few steps back, holding my hands up as if to show I only wanted peace.

"Where have you been? Your brother and I have been waiting nearly an hour for you!"

"Lady Eowyn, I – " My voice stuck in my throat as I sought for the words to defend myself. "I was searching for you all this while. Where were you?"

"With your brother, but I mentioned that." she replied with heat, and I watched her pale pink lips pull into what looked like snarl – a snarl only Eowyn could pull off and still manage to look like an elf maiden glorified in the light of a joyful sun. She released it, however, and before I really knew what was going on her fingers were curled into mine and she was pulling me into the diner. "And do not even begin to imagine that I have forgotten our disagreement at the banquet last night." Her crisp glare was grilling my forehead.

"Eowyn, you know you have all my apologies…I…" Once again I was making a fool of myself in front of her, and only our arrival at the counter where my brother waited saved my dignity. I took a seat and kept my eyes to the countertop before me while Boromir apologized to Eowyn for her having to go out and fetch me.

I murmured an apology also, but Eowyn only acknowledged Boromir's words. That morning was perhaps one of the worst I ever had in all my years. Eowyn and I never spoke one word to each other and the silence between us was bitter and cold. I had not known how much Eowyn had wanted me at the banquet, but now I knew.

"Captain Faramir, would you like something to eat?" the new voice snapped my head up, and I was face to face with a woman that looked only a year or so older than Eowyn. Like most of the women in Minas Tirith her hair was raven black and her eyes were brown, but her skin was pale. Very pale. I smiled politely at her and shook my head.

"No, I am no longer hungry." It was true. I could not be hungry, not with my best friend angry at me. "But it is good to see you again, miss."

Selma smiled at me and turned to Boromir; it seemed he and Eowyn had already eaten. The three were engaged in conversation, but I did not hear what they were saying. I pretended to be busy, but it did not avail my guilty situation. The wall in front of me provided enough entertainment to give me an uncontrollable desire to thank Selma and begin to leave.

"Faramir, where are you going?" Boromir asked suddenly, turning on his stool as I headed for the door. Eowyn had her eyes on me as well, but they no longer held anger. I did not notice this in my longing to be away from all of them, and replied,

"A duel. The King invited me to skirmish with him." I refused to tear my eyes from my brother's suspicious gaze, and after a moment he nodded.

"Will we see you later?"

"That I do not know." I tilted my head and raised a brow. "It depends on how long you will be here, I suppose." There was an instant change in the Steward's eyes just then, and Selma discreetly moved to another customer to take down a request. Boromir and Selma had been making eyes at each other all morning long and I no longer wanted to be trapped between them, so I used an excuse (it was not a lie, I just was not due with the king for another two hours) and made my exit.

On my way out I was stopped by Eowyn when she called my name, but it was not an angry charge like it had been last time. The White Lady had bowed her head, but seconds later looked at me fully, and I felt my heart lift when I saw her smile. One of her hands took mine and she once again averted her gaze shyly. I had noticed a change in Eowyn since the Dark Lord had been defeated, a change that I loved ever more every day. She, while still solemn and very dignified, was happier and openly displayed her joy.

"I do not wish to begin the day angry with you." she sighed, and her words were like a gentle breeze easing the burns of a scorching battle. My heart pounded as she playfully swung my hand back and forth between our bodies and then turned for a brief moment to face the oncoming wind. It sent her tresses of hair whirling around her like ribbons of…all right, I think you understand, I love her hair. Since she had one of my hands, it took all of my willpower to keep the other behind my back. Eowyn's eyes met mine once more. "You are forgiven for snubbing your Hobbit guests. At least in my eyes you are, if it means anything at all. And I am sorry for treating you so ill since then."

You see? My Eowyn is not the cold, priggish scolding wretch that I fear I have so wrongly portrayed her as. She never is and never was. Eowyn, in my world, was all that was pure and all that was good, and as soon as the words left her beautiful lips I seized both her hands in mine and clasped them closely to my chest.

"Lady Eowyn, with those words the sun is shining brighter! The air is sweeter, the – "

"Faramir, please!" she interrupted, but did not take her hands back. I knew that if she tried I would have to let her, but as much as I thought about releasing her the more I wanted to trap her in my arms and never let her go. She leaned in and whispered, "People can hear you, you know!"

"Let them!" I cried, and called out to the center of the city and anyone else that could hear my voice, "Let walls crumble, let the sky fall! Eowyn has forgiven me!" By this time Eowyn had pulled away from me and was heading back in the diner with her hair hiding her face. I do not even remember moving, but somehow someway I was before her again and looking very doubtful, my eyes hiding from hers under the safe haven of my bangs. "Why do I feel as though I owe you another apology?"

"You never apologized in the first place."

"Oh…" I cringed and bit my bottom lip, then removed my gloves. She watched me curiously, then let her eyes revolve up to the sky before I took her hands once more. "Then believe me when I say I am sorry for last night and…announcing my feelings before half of the kingdom earlier." Eowyn gave a short laugh and gave my hands a gentle squeeze in return. "Do you forgive me?"

"Of course I do." she replied as if my doubt was the silliest thing in this world. "You are the dearest friend I have, Faramir." Eowyn seemed to be thinking something over, and then offered, "If we cannot dine in the morning, what of midday? Will you be back from your meeting with Aragorn then?" 

"He would have to arrest me and chain me up in the deepest of our dungeons – "

"I hardly think Aragorn would resort to such great lengths to keep you away from your friends at dinner, Faramir." Eowyn cut me off again, and I obediently stopped my raving. "Shall I take it as a yes, then?"

"Yes."

With that she pulled away and reentered the inn with nothing more than a smile and left me standing on the streets of Minas Tirith alone. My feet dragged the rest of my body up to the window, and leaned my forehead against the glass; and I watched her laugh and I watched her smile and I was awed. I was put into a trance while watching her eyes sparkle with joy, and I knew it. I knew I should have just walked away but I could not. I could never.

I eventually did, of course, but I had spent so much time staring at my brother's company through the window that not only had I drawn a crowd, I had nearly made myself late for my meeting with the King. If I were to describe every boring step of the journey there I am afraid you would lose interest in this tale, so I will skip ahead to when our fencing match.

I will admit it. Aragorn, King of Gondor, is a superior warrior than I.  Now that was something my brother would never admit to, but I have always been a bit more humble and tend to think before acting (this is, of course, is an alien concept to my elder brother). I would thrust my sword toward an unguarded region of his person and seconds later he could smack it away and I would be blocking another blow. Usually, though my King still bests me, I am far better than I was doing on this morning.

My mind was a tangle of wonders and thoughts and questions, not to mention I was looking forward to meeting Eowyn for lunch. Aragorn seemed to notice my constant glancing at the timepiece on the wall as I fought, and grinned after making me look like a six year old girl with a twig for a weapon.

"Faramir, why do I get the feeling I am unintentionally torturing you?"

"Torturing me?" I repeated stupidly, and tried to concentrate on his meaning for a moment, but he answered before I ever really saw through it.

"Your eyes keep falling to the time." Aragorn looked over his shoulder. "Are you waiting for something?"

"Oh…yes, the White Lady and I have planned to dine together at midday." Aragorn nodded knowingly. He glanced at the clock once more and said to me with a grin,

"That is an hour off."

"Aye, I know."

"I'll make a deal with you." The king raised both eyebrows and readied his sword, flashing a smile that struck fear in even me. "If you give me your best in these next five minutes I will let you leave early from this prison of waiting." I nodded, thankfully, and charged him; my blade met his and for once I had him defending. Our swords scraped and clashed and snapped at each other, and our movements quickened. My heart pounded in my chest by the end of the five minutes, and finally Aragorn moved his sword in a circle and pushed mine to the side so fast and so hard that it left my hand and clamored to the stone floor.  I stumbled back a pace.

The queen entered and I remember scrambling to pick up my weapon before the Fair Arwen, too, saw me standing there like a wounded deer. I do not think I have mentioned this, but the queen is not from Gondor or even Rohan. Arwen is an Elf, daughter to Elrond Halfelven and the Evenstar of her people. I can see why Aragorn married her. Though her beauty does not compare to Eowyn's in my opinion, it is still other worldly and unique. When her pale eyes found mine I know I blushed like a ten year old boy and eventually found the courage to smile at her and nod.

"Lady Arwen." My voice shook and I bowed deeply in respect for her, and she murmured a greeting. Her eyes fell on Aragorn but after a minute she found a seat in one of the oak chairs and folded her legs, waiting patiently for us to finish.

Aragorn gave her a smile – a smile I only saw on his face when she entered, and said to me, "You are free to go, Faramir. I enjoyed our match." he held a hand out, and I was hesitant to take it as casually as my brother did. After hooking our palms together with our thumbs and each receiving a firm shake, I bowed to the two of them and began to retreat. "Goodbye, Faramir." he called, and I turned back with an enormous grin on my face.

"Goodbye, Aragorn. Lady Arwen!" As I left I heard my King turn to his wife and ask softly, almost wistfully,

"Do you remember what it was like to be that young and in love?"  But I do not remember Arwen replying.