~*~
Practical Love, Chapter Two
~*~
The day of Faramir's arrival had come sooner than Éowyn had expected; though as she had to constantly remind herself, he did not come alone. In the brief period leading to his arrival her brother had been in frequent discussion with his advisors, leaving her alone on her daily rides for the past week or so, as she had no desire to stay indoors with the other noblewomen to embroider and incessantly prattle on. She was a practical woman so she had, as a young child, learnt a little needlecraft but had seen no real enjoyment in it.
She reflected that Faramir's prospective wife probably did enjoy such things, and that in her role of hostess, she would have to endure such mindless pursuits as needlecraft and singing. She had seen a little of the women of Gondor during her stay and it seemed to her that they held themselves more aloof and shied away from the instruction of the blade or bow.
Now it seemed all the prospective joy there could have been in Faramir's visit had been abruptly blown away, and to add to her concerns, her dreams had been dark of late. Almost like those of the time in Gondor, when she had stood so precariously between worlds...
She paused, she did not often dwell on moments of weakness, as it usually led to self-doubt and Éowyn did not doubt things for a moment. Yet something in Éomer's words that day had made her falter, and mis-step her place in relation to Faramir, perhaps she did love him...perhaps she didn't. Either way, it was ill advised to say anything now.
These blunt and saddened thoughts were interrupted by Angharad who was fussing over her, much delighted by Éowyn (wearily but with some anticipation) agreeing to let her prepare her fully for the arrival of Faramir and his betrothed.
"Lady, you are lovely but you would be beautiful if only you smiled a little" Angharad reprimanded "Never have I seen such a sun-kissed face that seemed so much like a stormy sky!"
"I apologise and admit this visit seems more of a labour than any pleasure...I expect Faramir will have much to do with introducing his betrothed and reaching various agreements with my brother. I shall hope against hope that his betrothed likes horses, and detests the weaving of thread," said Éowyn, with more than a touch of dourness.
Angharad chuckled, knowing Éowyn's distaste for sewing and other activities of the sort - unless they had purpose, like the sole fruit of her efforts - a tapestry of a verse of poetry on the nature of valor and honor. It was elegantly coloured and reflected the nature of Éowyn and Éomer for perfection, even in the things they did not enjoy doing.
Finally, dressed in white that trailed across the floor, and a golden pattern of leaves that gently accentuated her waist, Éowyn left to greet Faramir and his wife-to-be.
~*~
Upon entering the main hall, Éowyn observed her brother in formal robes of state greeting Faramir warmly, he had not changed so much from the last time she had seen him, much to her joy yet she felt herself apply subconscious restraint when she saw at his side a woman with autumn coloured hair, a slight blush on her cheeks and a figure that suggested natural grace.
She almost stepped back, feeling self-conscious and within a moment was bemused that she who had been in battle and war was afraid to step into a room with her brother, a friend and a timid stranger inside, and with a little more determination than she intended, she walked into the room as if she had not paused at all. Éomer turned to introduce her, and smiled in approval of her appearance and in appreciation of her efforts, but was fluidly stopped by Eowyn who formally, if slightly coolly, introduced herself.
"My sister is...an independent and proud woman, like most in Rohan" explained Éomer with a great sense of pride, misreading the tawny haired woman's expression which Éowyn correctly interpreted as one of vague shock and distaste and instinctively she felt, with a certain sense of satisfaction, that all her preconceptions being fulfilled.
"Well...Lady Éowyn, this is my betrothed, Rowan of Gondor" replied Faramir smoothly, his expression unmoving and unwilling to tell what might be underneath the surface, much to the disappointment and frustration of Éowyn. He did not hold her gaze either, looking at the side of her or right through her but never directly and equally.
Éowyn felt her shoulders lower a little as if she were in despair, yet she felt remarkably calm and content with idle and trivial talk of the doings in Gondor - Faramir had glad tidings that Arwen and Elessar had begot a child due in a short time - and Éowyn felt an unfamiliar sensation of wistfulness, turning away to the polished stone floor in an effort to shake it away, when she felt her cheeks burn slightly to see Rowan and Faramir hand in hand, smiling as they delivered this news.
All these years and she had never yearned for a lover, even now she doubted the sincerity of her feelings yet something told her that false emotions did not hurt so much, or affect the heart in such drastic ways. Still on the surface she remained as warm as she could be given her nature, and helped her brother the best she could. It hurt her that Faramir barely seemed to recognise her as he once did and indeed, indicated that he regretted his past behaviour most grievously but she reminded herself sternly to serve Rohan before she served her own desires.
Making early excuses to leave, saying that she would need time to prepare herself for the evening feast, she stood to leave, frowning to herself as she heard Rowan excuse herself, likewise, and follow her. She walked with her head downcast, moving in a way that made the hem of her dress flutter and Éowyn saw, even in the bleached sunlight of early spring, that substances had been delicately applied to highlight her features. With a malicious sense of anticipation, Éowyn wondered how such a pampered creature would live in the homely comforts of the Golden Hall.
"Faramir speaks highly of you, as do many in Gondor" said Rowan at length as they walked side by side, each rapidly finding faults with the other in a speed that would leave most confused yet impressed and with the most trivial of flaws a matter of personal victory for the other. "Yet many women, particularly nobles, find the art of the blade an unwomanly pursuit"
"Women may be cut down by swords in times of war, even those who cannot or will not defend themselves" replied Éowyn swiftly, feeling that the woman was deliberately judging her temperament but she simply let the calm wash over her, over the turmoil further beneath.
"An intelligent sentiment and one that I do not find fault with" answered Rowan, drawing aside her cloak to reveal a sword in a simple leather sheath. "I will protect what is mine, with all the weapons made available to me - intellect and anger...good day to you, Lady Éowyn" said Rowan with a small smile that only added to the underlying meaning Éowyn had built up in her mind, a flush of rage took hold of her and compelled her to storm back to her chambers, very ill humored.
Sitting at her dressing table, a dark look that some in Rohan recognised as one they usually saw before a cascade of stars or heard a verbal, scathing and stinging attack flickered on her face briefly but Éowyn pushed it away firmly, gathering her breath and composure.
She only does it because she knows...she read my emotions because I let my guard down, thinking her too ignorant and self centered to even try and locate my weaknesses...
She paced for a while in the cool chamber, gathering her thoughts, and was reminded, painfully, of Faramir's behaviour. His cool glances and tense replies to her questions had been indication enough that he wished to avoid her as much as possible, even remembering it seemed to bring a little misery to Éowyn, and she silently berated herself.
She had given up her chance at the House of Healing where...she had fallen apart, so many things had come to a head during that time it seemed unfair that Faramir had come to her then...when she was repairing the damage done, healing her emotional wounds. He had came to her as if in a dream, and walked with her in the gardens, telling her little stories about his childhood with his brother who he always recalled with a tone of great sadness.
"Boromir the Fair..." she whispered to herself, knowing how she had begun to grow fond of the young man, knowing that she would quite possibly die of heartbreak if Eomer suddenly died so far from home, leaving her in an uncertain world.
She had tried to keep her feelings away as she had spoken with him and Rowan, not sure if her feelings were true yet she knew, for ill intent or not, she loved him and always had, in a way, felt that way about him.
And she knew, with a heart of lead, that it was too late to tell him.
Practical Love, Chapter Two
~*~
The day of Faramir's arrival had come sooner than Éowyn had expected; though as she had to constantly remind herself, he did not come alone. In the brief period leading to his arrival her brother had been in frequent discussion with his advisors, leaving her alone on her daily rides for the past week or so, as she had no desire to stay indoors with the other noblewomen to embroider and incessantly prattle on. She was a practical woman so she had, as a young child, learnt a little needlecraft but had seen no real enjoyment in it.
She reflected that Faramir's prospective wife probably did enjoy such things, and that in her role of hostess, she would have to endure such mindless pursuits as needlecraft and singing. She had seen a little of the women of Gondor during her stay and it seemed to her that they held themselves more aloof and shied away from the instruction of the blade or bow.
Now it seemed all the prospective joy there could have been in Faramir's visit had been abruptly blown away, and to add to her concerns, her dreams had been dark of late. Almost like those of the time in Gondor, when she had stood so precariously between worlds...
She paused, she did not often dwell on moments of weakness, as it usually led to self-doubt and Éowyn did not doubt things for a moment. Yet something in Éomer's words that day had made her falter, and mis-step her place in relation to Faramir, perhaps she did love him...perhaps she didn't. Either way, it was ill advised to say anything now.
These blunt and saddened thoughts were interrupted by Angharad who was fussing over her, much delighted by Éowyn (wearily but with some anticipation) agreeing to let her prepare her fully for the arrival of Faramir and his betrothed.
"Lady, you are lovely but you would be beautiful if only you smiled a little" Angharad reprimanded "Never have I seen such a sun-kissed face that seemed so much like a stormy sky!"
"I apologise and admit this visit seems more of a labour than any pleasure...I expect Faramir will have much to do with introducing his betrothed and reaching various agreements with my brother. I shall hope against hope that his betrothed likes horses, and detests the weaving of thread," said Éowyn, with more than a touch of dourness.
Angharad chuckled, knowing Éowyn's distaste for sewing and other activities of the sort - unless they had purpose, like the sole fruit of her efforts - a tapestry of a verse of poetry on the nature of valor and honor. It was elegantly coloured and reflected the nature of Éowyn and Éomer for perfection, even in the things they did not enjoy doing.
Finally, dressed in white that trailed across the floor, and a golden pattern of leaves that gently accentuated her waist, Éowyn left to greet Faramir and his wife-to-be.
~*~
Upon entering the main hall, Éowyn observed her brother in formal robes of state greeting Faramir warmly, he had not changed so much from the last time she had seen him, much to her joy yet she felt herself apply subconscious restraint when she saw at his side a woman with autumn coloured hair, a slight blush on her cheeks and a figure that suggested natural grace.
She almost stepped back, feeling self-conscious and within a moment was bemused that she who had been in battle and war was afraid to step into a room with her brother, a friend and a timid stranger inside, and with a little more determination than she intended, she walked into the room as if she had not paused at all. Éomer turned to introduce her, and smiled in approval of her appearance and in appreciation of her efforts, but was fluidly stopped by Eowyn who formally, if slightly coolly, introduced herself.
"My sister is...an independent and proud woman, like most in Rohan" explained Éomer with a great sense of pride, misreading the tawny haired woman's expression which Éowyn correctly interpreted as one of vague shock and distaste and instinctively she felt, with a certain sense of satisfaction, that all her preconceptions being fulfilled.
"Well...Lady Éowyn, this is my betrothed, Rowan of Gondor" replied Faramir smoothly, his expression unmoving and unwilling to tell what might be underneath the surface, much to the disappointment and frustration of Éowyn. He did not hold her gaze either, looking at the side of her or right through her but never directly and equally.
Éowyn felt her shoulders lower a little as if she were in despair, yet she felt remarkably calm and content with idle and trivial talk of the doings in Gondor - Faramir had glad tidings that Arwen and Elessar had begot a child due in a short time - and Éowyn felt an unfamiliar sensation of wistfulness, turning away to the polished stone floor in an effort to shake it away, when she felt her cheeks burn slightly to see Rowan and Faramir hand in hand, smiling as they delivered this news.
All these years and she had never yearned for a lover, even now she doubted the sincerity of her feelings yet something told her that false emotions did not hurt so much, or affect the heart in such drastic ways. Still on the surface she remained as warm as she could be given her nature, and helped her brother the best she could. It hurt her that Faramir barely seemed to recognise her as he once did and indeed, indicated that he regretted his past behaviour most grievously but she reminded herself sternly to serve Rohan before she served her own desires.
Making early excuses to leave, saying that she would need time to prepare herself for the evening feast, she stood to leave, frowning to herself as she heard Rowan excuse herself, likewise, and follow her. She walked with her head downcast, moving in a way that made the hem of her dress flutter and Éowyn saw, even in the bleached sunlight of early spring, that substances had been delicately applied to highlight her features. With a malicious sense of anticipation, Éowyn wondered how such a pampered creature would live in the homely comforts of the Golden Hall.
"Faramir speaks highly of you, as do many in Gondor" said Rowan at length as they walked side by side, each rapidly finding faults with the other in a speed that would leave most confused yet impressed and with the most trivial of flaws a matter of personal victory for the other. "Yet many women, particularly nobles, find the art of the blade an unwomanly pursuit"
"Women may be cut down by swords in times of war, even those who cannot or will not defend themselves" replied Éowyn swiftly, feeling that the woman was deliberately judging her temperament but she simply let the calm wash over her, over the turmoil further beneath.
"An intelligent sentiment and one that I do not find fault with" answered Rowan, drawing aside her cloak to reveal a sword in a simple leather sheath. "I will protect what is mine, with all the weapons made available to me - intellect and anger...good day to you, Lady Éowyn" said Rowan with a small smile that only added to the underlying meaning Éowyn had built up in her mind, a flush of rage took hold of her and compelled her to storm back to her chambers, very ill humored.
Sitting at her dressing table, a dark look that some in Rohan recognised as one they usually saw before a cascade of stars or heard a verbal, scathing and stinging attack flickered on her face briefly but Éowyn pushed it away firmly, gathering her breath and composure.
She only does it because she knows...she read my emotions because I let my guard down, thinking her too ignorant and self centered to even try and locate my weaknesses...
She paced for a while in the cool chamber, gathering her thoughts, and was reminded, painfully, of Faramir's behaviour. His cool glances and tense replies to her questions had been indication enough that he wished to avoid her as much as possible, even remembering it seemed to bring a little misery to Éowyn, and she silently berated herself.
She had given up her chance at the House of Healing where...she had fallen apart, so many things had come to a head during that time it seemed unfair that Faramir had come to her then...when she was repairing the damage done, healing her emotional wounds. He had came to her as if in a dream, and walked with her in the gardens, telling her little stories about his childhood with his brother who he always recalled with a tone of great sadness.
"Boromir the Fair..." she whispered to herself, knowing how she had begun to grow fond of the young man, knowing that she would quite possibly die of heartbreak if Eomer suddenly died so far from home, leaving her in an uncertain world.
She had tried to keep her feelings away as she had spoken with him and Rowan, not sure if her feelings were true yet she knew, for ill intent or not, she loved him and always had, in a way, felt that way about him.
And she knew, with a heart of lead, that it was too late to tell him.