-------------
Chapter Eleven: A Choice
-------------
Aragorn had not changed his mind. As he looked on Éowyn, lying motionless and near death, he saw that her hope lay in him as much as in Éomer. It was true clear sight, not ego. Guilt lay heavy upon him. He knew Éowyn well from sight, and heard and saw more on his visits to Edoras than he pretended.
When he saw Éowyn, he saw not the cold maiden that others saw, but an earnest young woman with dreams of glory, which she could not have in Rohan. She dreamt of a wider world than the fields, of nobler deeds than embroidery. Though Éowyn found these things pleasant, they did not cool the fire of adventure in her heart. She called herself a shield-maiden, who feared all bars except those of the helm. All she wanted was a more promising future, for her own seemed grim.
It had stirred his heart to pity; to see something so fair and admirable lose hope in life, simply because of the limitations that restrained her. He was moved, for he understood. It had almost been his destiny: indeed it would have, if not for Arwen. Fate would have seen him grow old, had he not fallen for Arwen. But what was it that made him love her? Was it the twinkle in her eye? The tenderness of her voice? Or was it the idea of marrying an Elf? The prestige, the novelty, the honour of reuniting the Children of Ilúvatar? The realisation smote him like an Entish fist.
He didn't love Arwen - it was pure physical attraction. Arwen was willing to give up her life for him, and he only wanted her to inflate his reputation. Dying for something is a noble thing, if your sacrifice will save someone or something. But dying for love . . . that was going a bit far. Aragorn did treasure their time together, for he recognized in hindsight that it had been love in the beginning, but a first-crush type of love. He was 20. 68 years on, things were different. His loving Arwen seemed routine - just something you did because you had to, like getting dressed or eating. Not because he really wanted to. For Arwen, seven decades was a drop in the hat. It was still fresh.
She was beautiful - the most beautiful creature Aragorn had ever seen. Yet he saw the difference between being a beautiful maiden and being a fair one. There was an innocence, a memory of happiness that lived yet in Éowyn but had died in Arwen before the Kingdom of Arnor. It was a solemn type of joy that Arwen displayed, as she knew that as her love for Aragorn grew, her lifespan diminished.
Thus, Aragorn was come to a decision. That night he would ask Éomer for Éowyn's hand. He knew not how Arwen would take the news, but believed that his place remained on the battlefield until the Ring was destroyed or captured. With Éowyn.
----------------
Faramir
-----------------
Aragorn visited Éomer in his tent that night. "Hail, Aragorn, healer of my sister," said the King of the Mark. The merriness of wine in moderation rang in his voice.
"Hail, Éomer, King of the Mark!" smiled Aragorn. "I come to you on an errand of utmost sincerity. It concerns your sister."
Éomer's grin faded. "I know what you will say, and I do not wish to hear it. I am in mourning for my uncle, for my comrades and kin who are fallen, but also in celebration for victory and the health and safety of my sibling. I need no words of solemnity now." Aragorn bowed his head.
"I come to ask for her hand in marriage," he said, raising his head slowly. Éomer started.
"What? I thought you were here to tell me to - I mean to say to - to reject her!"
"Indeed," admitted Aragorn, "That was my plan when first I met her in Meduseld one week ago. But a change has come in me. I love her, and it is my belief that that love is returned."
Éomer looked uneasy. "I wish that I could accept that this has been ongoing," he said hesitantly, "But mere hours ago you said that you were disallowed from returning her love. Have you begun to care for her since then? If so I cannot grant you leave to marry her, if you desire to do so on a whim."
"Nay, lord. My devotion goes back to the first time I saw her, when Wormtongue's hold on Théoden was but growing. I could not return her love as I was betrothed to another: an Elf, as it were. The sister of Elrond's sons, who have accompanied me hither from the plains of Rohan: they rode with the Grey Company. Today I have made a difficult choice," said Aragorn. His figure was framed by the light of sunset that entered through the tent's threshold. Éomer noted the change in his voice. It became softer and yet nobler. "Today I was forced to choose between the one I thought I knew and loved for the better part of a century, and one I have known truly for barely half a decade. And I chose the latter, for reasons I can barely put into words. I care ABOUT Arwen, but I care FOR Éowyn. It sounds trivial, but it is the best way I can put it. It is not easy to put into words."
"Love scarcely is," soothed Éomer. "I can see that you are in honesty, and I know enough of you to assure me of your loyalty and good character. Therefore I grant you what you ask of me, if my sister also consents to your marriage of course! Though I daresay she will. But you must agree to this: you will ask her not until this war ends. I do not want her to be betrothed, then have her man march into danger."
Aragorn smiled. "Of course, Éomer. That would be for the best." ***** The next day, the lords debated the next course of action. At last they agreed to offer themselves as bait for Mordor. Two days later, they marched with two thousand men towards the Morannon of Mordor.
*****
Éowyn watched them leave from her window in the Houses of Healing. The warden had taken Aragorn's parting advice and agreed to keep Éowyn in his care for at least another week. But Éowyn had grown bored of her room.
"Sir," said she, "I can no longer lie in sloth."
"Lady," said the Warden of the Houses, "You are not yet healed; I was commanded to tend you with especial care. You should not have left your bed for another seven days, or so I was bidden."
"Are there no tidings of the war? The women can tell me nothing."
"There are no tidings, lady."
"But it has been two days since they set off," she said. "Is there nothing I can do?"
"My hands are tied, lady," sighed the Warden. "But the Steward of the City may be able to help you."
So the Warden led Éowyn to the Lord Faramir, son of the now-deceased Denethor. He was walking in the gardens. Éowyn told him of her boredom.
"I have not yet taken up my authority in the City," said Faramir, "But even if I had, I would not grant you leave to depart the Houses. I am myself in the keeping of the Warden. In any case, it is too late to follow the Lords."
A rebellious tear slipped down Éowyn's face. "Then what would you say to me, Lord?"
"I would say to you that you are beautiful, Lady Éowyn. In the South we have many fair and beautiful flowers, and maidens fairer still, but I have seen neither flower nor maiden to match your beauty. Nay, stay we must in the Houses until we are fully healed."
"But I am healed in body," cried Éowyn, "Excepting my arm. I shall take sick again if I must lie in sloth! I wished to ride in battle like my brother, or better like Théoden the King, who has died in honour in battle. But died I have not, and the battle continues and I may not take part."
"Then we must patiently await our freedom," said Faramir with grave tenderness. "Come see me again, if you will. Speak with me."
"I shall do so," said Éowyn. A faint smile threatened to crack her face. "But my window looks not east."
"Then that shall be remedied immediately."
*****
Éowyn was unsure. She saw the look in Faramir's eyes. Yet she could not deny her feelings for Aragorn. She knew nothing of his conversation with Éomer, and he had visited her only in slumber. Éowyn had not seen Aragorn since that morning in Dunharrow, over a week ago.
Faramir had feelings for Éowyn, that much was clear. Éowyn began to greatly doubt her future with Aragorn, for he had not (to her knowledge) visited her. Even that night in Dunharrow seemed nothing but a dream. Had it been her imagination?
Éowyn fulfilled Faramir's wish of company. Faramir taught her about Gondorian culture, of poetry, and of things she had considered too feminine for herself, before meeting Faramir. He made them more masculine - more honourable somehow. Éowyn also told Faramir about life in Rohan, of the war there and of the ride of Dernhelm. They also spoke of war and battle, though Faramir did not delight in it as Éowyn did.
They spoke long each day and Faramir's feelings grew. Éowyn saw him as a dear friend, nothing more. Her heart was lighter to know that a kindred spirit like Faramir dwelt near at hand.
*****
A week after the ride of the Captains of the West, Éowyn stood upon the wall of the Houses of Healing, from which she could see far. She gazed eastward. There were still no tidings, but even as she stood, the Ringbearer and his companion were about to enter the Cracks of Doom.
"What do you look for, Éowyn?" asked Faramir.
"Does not the Black Gate lie yonder? He must have arrived there by now - it is seven days since he rode away."
"Seven days . . ." said Faramir. "Think no ill of me, if I say to you: they have brought me both joy and pain. Joy, to have seen you, but pain for the fear and doubt of this evil time. I would not have the world end now, and make me lose what I have found!"
"Lose what you have found, lord?" answered Éowyn. Her eyes were kind, but she dreaded the answer. She now understood the plight of Aragorn in Dunharrow: seeing the love of a worthy and noble person, but unable to return it. She dared not, in case Aragorn did indeed love her. But if he did not . . . "Come, my friend, let us not speak of it! I stand upon some dreadful brink, and there is an abyss at my feet, but I know not if there is light behind. I cannot turn yet. I wait yet for some stroke of doom."
[Some people might need a bit of clarification here: it took me a while to decipher Tolkien as well. She is deciding where to place her heart. The abyss ahead of her is Faramir, for she knows not what lies at the bottom. The place behind is Aragorn, and the light symbolises love for her.]
"We all wait for the stroke of doom," said Faramir softly. And suddenly all was silent. Time halted. As they looked east it seemed that a mountain beyond the fences of Mordor towered up like a wave that would engulf the world. Lightings shimmered around it; a tremor ran through the earth and the walls of the City quivered. A sound like a sigh went up from the lands. And time began again. The Ring was destroyed.
"It reminds me of Númenor," said Faramir at last, "Númenor in my dream."
"Of Númenor?" said Éowyn. Over the previous days he had told her about the doomed isle of Men, far out to sea, where the far-sighted could see the tower at Avallonë, on Tol Eressëa in the Undying Lands.
"Yes," said Faramir, "in my dream of how it foundered, of the great dark wave climbing over the green lands and above the hills - even of the usurped Queen clinging to the summit of the Meneltarma, praying to Ilúvatar for forgiveness for the folly of her people, and of Elendil and his folk taking ship, fleeing the island, under the Darkness Unescapable. I dream of it often."
"Darkness Unescapable?" said Éowyn. "Do you think that is what is coming?"
"It is what reason tells me," he replied, "but my heart tells me nay, for my limbs are suddenly light, and a joy is come over me that I have not felt since the appearance of the Shadow. Éowyn, Éowyn, White Lady of Rohan - I do not feel that any Darkness can endure!" And Faramir stooped, kissing her brow. Éowyn closed her eyes, for it did not feel wrong. But he stooped again to kiss her lips, and Éowyn placed her finger on his lips.
"Nay, lord," she said quietly. "For my heart belongs to another."
Faramir stood straight again. He spoke again, though to himself, and Éowyn could barely hear him: "Then it is as I thought."
They stood for many minutes more in silence, looking out towards the Black Gate. Gandalf, Gwaihir, Landroval and Meneldor were speeding to Mount Doom, to rescue Frodo and Sam from the lava. Aragorn led the assault on the final battle between good and evil, against those who had not fled or surrendered. Gimli had just caught sight of a Hobbit-foot under a troll- carcass and was dragging Pippin out, muttering, "His kill nearly killed him!" And the Darkness broke; the Anduin shone like silver and all Men burst into song for joy. Soon an eagle came, crying of the defeat of the Shadow.
*****
In the following days, the tidings began to pour into the City: orders for various goods, news to loved-ones, and summonses to the Field of Cormallen. Faramir refused his invitations, for being nearly healed he had taken up his Stewardship and could not desert his people. Éomer sent for his sister, but she gave no reply. He sent riders again, but again no reply. Faramir was curious, remembering her eagerness to follow the Captains. It had been two days since the Downfall of Sauron.
"Two reasons I see," he said. "But which it is, I do not know."
"Lord?" asked Éowyn.
"One: that only your brother called for you, and not the Lord Aragorn and your refusal is in your wish for his wanting you there also. And the second: that you desire to be near me."
He hit the mark with the first reason. "I wished to be loved by another," she said. "But -"
"My lady!" called the Warden. "There is another message for you." Éowyn took it and a sweet smile spread across her face. "You are at liberty, lady. You may go, as I said before." It was another summons, and it was signed by the Lord Aragorn. Éowyn's heart leaped. She turned back to Faramir.
"And it seems my wish has come true. He has called me to Ithilien. I must go." Perhaps it may seem cruel to just leave Faramir hanging like that, and Éowyn regretted it in hindsight, but her heart was too full to care at the time. She had her things packed, with pretty dresses and some jewellery as well as the essentials.
She bade Faramir a fond farewell and took horse. Two Riders from Edoras were her escort, and they were jolly fellows who preferred horses to hoes and had joined the Riders. They joked about how they would be gardening right now if they had known what was in store. They decided to pick up the pace a bit and arrived at the Field of Cormallen on the fourth of April.
Chapter Eleven: A Choice
-------------
Aragorn had not changed his mind. As he looked on Éowyn, lying motionless and near death, he saw that her hope lay in him as much as in Éomer. It was true clear sight, not ego. Guilt lay heavy upon him. He knew Éowyn well from sight, and heard and saw more on his visits to Edoras than he pretended.
When he saw Éowyn, he saw not the cold maiden that others saw, but an earnest young woman with dreams of glory, which she could not have in Rohan. She dreamt of a wider world than the fields, of nobler deeds than embroidery. Though Éowyn found these things pleasant, they did not cool the fire of adventure in her heart. She called herself a shield-maiden, who feared all bars except those of the helm. All she wanted was a more promising future, for her own seemed grim.
It had stirred his heart to pity; to see something so fair and admirable lose hope in life, simply because of the limitations that restrained her. He was moved, for he understood. It had almost been his destiny: indeed it would have, if not for Arwen. Fate would have seen him grow old, had he not fallen for Arwen. But what was it that made him love her? Was it the twinkle in her eye? The tenderness of her voice? Or was it the idea of marrying an Elf? The prestige, the novelty, the honour of reuniting the Children of Ilúvatar? The realisation smote him like an Entish fist.
He didn't love Arwen - it was pure physical attraction. Arwen was willing to give up her life for him, and he only wanted her to inflate his reputation. Dying for something is a noble thing, if your sacrifice will save someone or something. But dying for love . . . that was going a bit far. Aragorn did treasure their time together, for he recognized in hindsight that it had been love in the beginning, but a first-crush type of love. He was 20. 68 years on, things were different. His loving Arwen seemed routine - just something you did because you had to, like getting dressed or eating. Not because he really wanted to. For Arwen, seven decades was a drop in the hat. It was still fresh.
She was beautiful - the most beautiful creature Aragorn had ever seen. Yet he saw the difference between being a beautiful maiden and being a fair one. There was an innocence, a memory of happiness that lived yet in Éowyn but had died in Arwen before the Kingdom of Arnor. It was a solemn type of joy that Arwen displayed, as she knew that as her love for Aragorn grew, her lifespan diminished.
Thus, Aragorn was come to a decision. That night he would ask Éomer for Éowyn's hand. He knew not how Arwen would take the news, but believed that his place remained on the battlefield until the Ring was destroyed or captured. With Éowyn.
----------------
Faramir
-----------------
Aragorn visited Éomer in his tent that night. "Hail, Aragorn, healer of my sister," said the King of the Mark. The merriness of wine in moderation rang in his voice.
"Hail, Éomer, King of the Mark!" smiled Aragorn. "I come to you on an errand of utmost sincerity. It concerns your sister."
Éomer's grin faded. "I know what you will say, and I do not wish to hear it. I am in mourning for my uncle, for my comrades and kin who are fallen, but also in celebration for victory and the health and safety of my sibling. I need no words of solemnity now." Aragorn bowed his head.
"I come to ask for her hand in marriage," he said, raising his head slowly. Éomer started.
"What? I thought you were here to tell me to - I mean to say to - to reject her!"
"Indeed," admitted Aragorn, "That was my plan when first I met her in Meduseld one week ago. But a change has come in me. I love her, and it is my belief that that love is returned."
Éomer looked uneasy. "I wish that I could accept that this has been ongoing," he said hesitantly, "But mere hours ago you said that you were disallowed from returning her love. Have you begun to care for her since then? If so I cannot grant you leave to marry her, if you desire to do so on a whim."
"Nay, lord. My devotion goes back to the first time I saw her, when Wormtongue's hold on Théoden was but growing. I could not return her love as I was betrothed to another: an Elf, as it were. The sister of Elrond's sons, who have accompanied me hither from the plains of Rohan: they rode with the Grey Company. Today I have made a difficult choice," said Aragorn. His figure was framed by the light of sunset that entered through the tent's threshold. Éomer noted the change in his voice. It became softer and yet nobler. "Today I was forced to choose between the one I thought I knew and loved for the better part of a century, and one I have known truly for barely half a decade. And I chose the latter, for reasons I can barely put into words. I care ABOUT Arwen, but I care FOR Éowyn. It sounds trivial, but it is the best way I can put it. It is not easy to put into words."
"Love scarcely is," soothed Éomer. "I can see that you are in honesty, and I know enough of you to assure me of your loyalty and good character. Therefore I grant you what you ask of me, if my sister also consents to your marriage of course! Though I daresay she will. But you must agree to this: you will ask her not until this war ends. I do not want her to be betrothed, then have her man march into danger."
Aragorn smiled. "Of course, Éomer. That would be for the best." ***** The next day, the lords debated the next course of action. At last they agreed to offer themselves as bait for Mordor. Two days later, they marched with two thousand men towards the Morannon of Mordor.
*****
Éowyn watched them leave from her window in the Houses of Healing. The warden had taken Aragorn's parting advice and agreed to keep Éowyn in his care for at least another week. But Éowyn had grown bored of her room.
"Sir," said she, "I can no longer lie in sloth."
"Lady," said the Warden of the Houses, "You are not yet healed; I was commanded to tend you with especial care. You should not have left your bed for another seven days, or so I was bidden."
"Are there no tidings of the war? The women can tell me nothing."
"There are no tidings, lady."
"But it has been two days since they set off," she said. "Is there nothing I can do?"
"My hands are tied, lady," sighed the Warden. "But the Steward of the City may be able to help you."
So the Warden led Éowyn to the Lord Faramir, son of the now-deceased Denethor. He was walking in the gardens. Éowyn told him of her boredom.
"I have not yet taken up my authority in the City," said Faramir, "But even if I had, I would not grant you leave to depart the Houses. I am myself in the keeping of the Warden. In any case, it is too late to follow the Lords."
A rebellious tear slipped down Éowyn's face. "Then what would you say to me, Lord?"
"I would say to you that you are beautiful, Lady Éowyn. In the South we have many fair and beautiful flowers, and maidens fairer still, but I have seen neither flower nor maiden to match your beauty. Nay, stay we must in the Houses until we are fully healed."
"But I am healed in body," cried Éowyn, "Excepting my arm. I shall take sick again if I must lie in sloth! I wished to ride in battle like my brother, or better like Théoden the King, who has died in honour in battle. But died I have not, and the battle continues and I may not take part."
"Then we must patiently await our freedom," said Faramir with grave tenderness. "Come see me again, if you will. Speak with me."
"I shall do so," said Éowyn. A faint smile threatened to crack her face. "But my window looks not east."
"Then that shall be remedied immediately."
*****
Éowyn was unsure. She saw the look in Faramir's eyes. Yet she could not deny her feelings for Aragorn. She knew nothing of his conversation with Éomer, and he had visited her only in slumber. Éowyn had not seen Aragorn since that morning in Dunharrow, over a week ago.
Faramir had feelings for Éowyn, that much was clear. Éowyn began to greatly doubt her future with Aragorn, for he had not (to her knowledge) visited her. Even that night in Dunharrow seemed nothing but a dream. Had it been her imagination?
Éowyn fulfilled Faramir's wish of company. Faramir taught her about Gondorian culture, of poetry, and of things she had considered too feminine for herself, before meeting Faramir. He made them more masculine - more honourable somehow. Éowyn also told Faramir about life in Rohan, of the war there and of the ride of Dernhelm. They also spoke of war and battle, though Faramir did not delight in it as Éowyn did.
They spoke long each day and Faramir's feelings grew. Éowyn saw him as a dear friend, nothing more. Her heart was lighter to know that a kindred spirit like Faramir dwelt near at hand.
*****
A week after the ride of the Captains of the West, Éowyn stood upon the wall of the Houses of Healing, from which she could see far. She gazed eastward. There were still no tidings, but even as she stood, the Ringbearer and his companion were about to enter the Cracks of Doom.
"What do you look for, Éowyn?" asked Faramir.
"Does not the Black Gate lie yonder? He must have arrived there by now - it is seven days since he rode away."
"Seven days . . ." said Faramir. "Think no ill of me, if I say to you: they have brought me both joy and pain. Joy, to have seen you, but pain for the fear and doubt of this evil time. I would not have the world end now, and make me lose what I have found!"
"Lose what you have found, lord?" answered Éowyn. Her eyes were kind, but she dreaded the answer. She now understood the plight of Aragorn in Dunharrow: seeing the love of a worthy and noble person, but unable to return it. She dared not, in case Aragorn did indeed love her. But if he did not . . . "Come, my friend, let us not speak of it! I stand upon some dreadful brink, and there is an abyss at my feet, but I know not if there is light behind. I cannot turn yet. I wait yet for some stroke of doom."
[Some people might need a bit of clarification here: it took me a while to decipher Tolkien as well. She is deciding where to place her heart. The abyss ahead of her is Faramir, for she knows not what lies at the bottom. The place behind is Aragorn, and the light symbolises love for her.]
"We all wait for the stroke of doom," said Faramir softly. And suddenly all was silent. Time halted. As they looked east it seemed that a mountain beyond the fences of Mordor towered up like a wave that would engulf the world. Lightings shimmered around it; a tremor ran through the earth and the walls of the City quivered. A sound like a sigh went up from the lands. And time began again. The Ring was destroyed.
"It reminds me of Númenor," said Faramir at last, "Númenor in my dream."
"Of Númenor?" said Éowyn. Over the previous days he had told her about the doomed isle of Men, far out to sea, where the far-sighted could see the tower at Avallonë, on Tol Eressëa in the Undying Lands.
"Yes," said Faramir, "in my dream of how it foundered, of the great dark wave climbing over the green lands and above the hills - even of the usurped Queen clinging to the summit of the Meneltarma, praying to Ilúvatar for forgiveness for the folly of her people, and of Elendil and his folk taking ship, fleeing the island, under the Darkness Unescapable. I dream of it often."
"Darkness Unescapable?" said Éowyn. "Do you think that is what is coming?"
"It is what reason tells me," he replied, "but my heart tells me nay, for my limbs are suddenly light, and a joy is come over me that I have not felt since the appearance of the Shadow. Éowyn, Éowyn, White Lady of Rohan - I do not feel that any Darkness can endure!" And Faramir stooped, kissing her brow. Éowyn closed her eyes, for it did not feel wrong. But he stooped again to kiss her lips, and Éowyn placed her finger on his lips.
"Nay, lord," she said quietly. "For my heart belongs to another."
Faramir stood straight again. He spoke again, though to himself, and Éowyn could barely hear him: "Then it is as I thought."
They stood for many minutes more in silence, looking out towards the Black Gate. Gandalf, Gwaihir, Landroval and Meneldor were speeding to Mount Doom, to rescue Frodo and Sam from the lava. Aragorn led the assault on the final battle between good and evil, against those who had not fled or surrendered. Gimli had just caught sight of a Hobbit-foot under a troll- carcass and was dragging Pippin out, muttering, "His kill nearly killed him!" And the Darkness broke; the Anduin shone like silver and all Men burst into song for joy. Soon an eagle came, crying of the defeat of the Shadow.
*****
In the following days, the tidings began to pour into the City: orders for various goods, news to loved-ones, and summonses to the Field of Cormallen. Faramir refused his invitations, for being nearly healed he had taken up his Stewardship and could not desert his people. Éomer sent for his sister, but she gave no reply. He sent riders again, but again no reply. Faramir was curious, remembering her eagerness to follow the Captains. It had been two days since the Downfall of Sauron.
"Two reasons I see," he said. "But which it is, I do not know."
"Lord?" asked Éowyn.
"One: that only your brother called for you, and not the Lord Aragorn and your refusal is in your wish for his wanting you there also. And the second: that you desire to be near me."
He hit the mark with the first reason. "I wished to be loved by another," she said. "But -"
"My lady!" called the Warden. "There is another message for you." Éowyn took it and a sweet smile spread across her face. "You are at liberty, lady. You may go, as I said before." It was another summons, and it was signed by the Lord Aragorn. Éowyn's heart leaped. She turned back to Faramir.
"And it seems my wish has come true. He has called me to Ithilien. I must go." Perhaps it may seem cruel to just leave Faramir hanging like that, and Éowyn regretted it in hindsight, but her heart was too full to care at the time. She had her things packed, with pretty dresses and some jewellery as well as the essentials.
She bade Faramir a fond farewell and took horse. Two Riders from Edoras were her escort, and they were jolly fellows who preferred horses to hoes and had joined the Riders. They joked about how they would be gardening right now if they had known what was in store. They decided to pick up the pace a bit and arrived at the Field of Cormallen on the fourth of April.