Author's Notes: This is the slightly revised version. After going over it, I saw a few typos and other errors. I know there's a "to" where there should be a "too," but I can't find it now. Points to whomever can!

In the morning Éowyn awoke first to the feeling of a delicious soreness in her body. Faramir lay behind her and one of his arms rested under her head. She stretched, but carefully so as not to wake Faramir. Then she got up and lifted her dress from off the floor, happy to discover that it was not wrinkled. She used the wash bowl placed by the bed, and then she hastened to put on her dress, for she was certain her brother would be coming soon and did not wish to be discovered naked. But during all this, she did not wake Faramir, mostly because he looked so peaceful in his sleep.

After all the horror stories the maids had told her, she had not expected to enjoy her 'wifely duties' so much, but Faramir had been so attentive and gentle that Éowyn now laughed at her worries. When he first touched her she had sensed that he was completely awed by her, and this she found highly flattering. But as the night wore on they had become more familiar with each other, and although that initial sense of wonder dissipated to some degree, their enjoyment of one another increased.

But most of all she was happy because she was his finally, and he hers. Their life together had finally begun, and from this beginning until death claimed one of them she foresaw little cause for separation.

She clipped the belt around her waist, but realized that in order to put her dress on properly she would have to wake Faramir. And so she kneeled by the bed and was about to blow in his ear just as she had done the day before when suddenly the door flew open and in jumped five of the royal guards in their finery.

Faramir jolted awake beside her, smacking his head against hers which had been hovering a few inches above. He clutched at his head, cried out and then met her eyes. Éowyn was shocked to see the utter terror that came over him.

"You weren't a dream!" he gasped.

"Nay, lord," she said. "Did you not know?" But he was too agitated to answer.

He gaped at the guards who were storming into the room, appearing to Éowyn needlessly menacing. Faramir was fumbling for his sword, no doubt. Éowyn watched with a touch of amusement as his hands searched for it the sheets, under his pillow, by the bed. He seemed to go whiter when his hand found his discarded leggings instead.

"It's gone!" he cried, but his voice was not frantic. To Éowyn's ears it held a deep hurt that seemed to go beyond anger. Only then did she understand how confused he actually was. He had not even noticed that the guards halted their approach. But just as she was about to ask them to leave there came a booming voice from the door:

"Faramir, son of Denethor, this is no a battlefront. Why do you look for your sword?"

Éowyn turned to see her brother, wearing his finest clothes and holding two crowns of wildflowers, one in each hand. These were for the bride and groom to wear during their wedding feast and were by custom given to the couple by the bride's nearest of kin. But Faramir had not even shown the slightest sign that he noticed them, for he seemed to be stilling himself against some stroke of death. His face was quite red. Finally, it occurred to Éowyn that Faramir had not known at all about her peoples' customs, and at last her brother's jest was revealed to her. He had not said a word to Faramir. She shot Éomer a withering look. "Brother, you didn't tell him?"

Faramir backed as far as he could into the head board of his bed, looking very sheepish indeed. He brought the covers over his bare chest. "Tell me what?"

*****

"So, we are married.?" Faramir questioned the woman he now understood to be his wife as they sat at the King's table in the Great Hall finishing up the third course in what promised to be an endless wedding feast. They were both wearing circlets of wildflowers, which on her looked quite beautiful, but his itched. He was certain Éomer had instructed the servants to weave it too small so that it irritated his forehead after he pushed it down on his head.

"Yes, my love," answered Éowyn for the second time. But unlike the hurried explanation she had given him as her brother hauled them into the great hall (both dressed), she stopped to explain the custom. "In Rohan the feast and ceremony come after the consummation. This ensures that there is nothing wrong with either party. It has been thus ever since the years long before Eorl when one of our chieftains attempted to pass off his daughter as a man and run off with his daughter-in-law's dowry."

"I see," Faramir said, feeling both amused and fascinated by this piece of history. "Is there any precedent of the groom not being told in advance that he is in fact a groom?"

Éowyn laughed. "No, dearest. My brother just thought it would be a good joke."

"I think that I will only be able to laugh harder after the passage of several years. I was certain I would have to fight him. I am most pleased that I did not." He took her hand and kissed it lightly, ignoring the drunken teasing of their friends as they noticed the gesture.

Éowyn too ignored them, although she blushed. But she whispered an apology under the clamorous jibes. "I am sorry. I thought he had told you."

"It was a pleasant surprise," he told her. "Although it is much more pleasant now that I am looking at you than it was when I was staring at your brother."

"Aye, my lord," was her only reply, but he saw that her eyes were laughing. Then she said, "Have you had dreams of me before where I came to your chamber at night?"

Faramir did not blush, which he saw surprised his wife. He had been so very agitated earlier and so unlike himself. But now that his confidence had returned he met her gaze with his characteristic assurance. "Yes, I have had dreams of you," he said simply. "You have spoken to me in them. In them you have told me you loved me ever since the first since I saw you."

Éowyn accepted this, eyes shining with happiness. "I am glad we will not have to wait until we reach Gondor to be wed."

Faramir felt a great flush of pleasure at her words and knew that despite the scare Éomer had given him, he was greatly in his debt. But as they leaned in closer to each other the ooohing of the surrounding crowd began again and all they managed was a small peck before the room erupted into a chorus of drunken cheering. For the sake of their ears they parted.

"Your brother must have been planning this for a very long time," said Faramir, noting his Uncle's presence in the crowd of feasters, who had finally stopped teasing him when they realized he was not going to do more than kiss his wife's hand. Imrahil had apparently arrived last night with his children in tow, meaning that Éomer must have started planning the wedding at least two weeks ago. His uncle saw him looking, and hoisted a mug of ale into the air. It sloshed over the side and trickled down his arm, causing him to curse and bend over to reach for the bottom of his cloak in order to wipe it off. As his uncle did this, the people behind him were no longer obscured from view. They were Éomer and his cousin Lothiriel, conversing with great enthusiasm it seemed. Briefly, Faramir considered calling over her brothers to concoct some mischievous scheme of their own, but decided against it. It was too soon, after all.

He looked again at his uncle, who being extremely drunk, had managed to tangled his cloak in his baldric. Faramir's mind went to his sword, wondering if Éomer had taken it as part of this joke or one entirely separate. A thought came to him then.

"Is there no other ceremony attached to this wedding?" he inquired very pointedly.

Éowyn nodded. "Yes, there is an exchange of gifts. They are tokens of faithfulness."

Faramir nearly smacked his head with his hand for embarrassment. "Tokens," was all he said, recalling his earlier conversation with the King. His suspicions were confirmed.

Yet the exchange did not take place until almost midday (when Faramir thought if he had to nibble on one more rib of sweet pork he would be ill), the timing of which Éowyn informed him was not the general custom among the Rohirrim. However Faramir had been observing Éomer and Lothiriel off and on for much of the morning, and guessed that his charming cousin was the reason for the delay. But at last there was heard a clanging of glasses and a clatter of plates as Éomer King abandoned his pretty companion and stepped up to the dais and awaited the attention of his guests. "It is now time for the exchange of gifts!"

Then he motioned towards the side of the hall from whence came the master of arms, holding two swords, one of which Faramir recognized as his own errant weapon, and another which he knew to be Éowyn's.

When the swordmaster was near, Éowyn took the blade that was hers and placed it in his hands, allowing her fingers to lovingly brush his. He caught them in his own, and there she pledged herself to him as they held hands beneath her sword that was now his. "This I give to you, my husband, as a token of my love and a pledge of my faithfulness until death."

Faramir examined the blade as a compliment to her choice (although it had really been her brother's), smiling just as much because of the high quality of the blade as he was from the realization that Éowyn had surrendered her sword to her brother only for safe-keeping until this exchange of gifts. The words of the grooms returned to him as well: that it was not fitting for a woman. And indeed it was not, for the blade was heavy and too long for her to wield. The blade itself seemed to be wrought in the style of the blades of Gondor even though the hilt and handle bore the horse motifs of the royal house of Rohan. Then Faramir understood that Éomer had selected this sword for him rather than for his sister, knowing that she would present it to him at their wedding feast. He was moved by this, and humbled also by his earlier doubts of Éomer's motives.

Then he took the sword that had been his--the sword with which he had fought so long for his homeland--and set it without regret in the arms of his wife, echoing her pledge; and seeing their happiness, all within the hall applauded.

*****

The festivities dragged on past nightfall with dancing and drinking (of course), but even the mighty Rohirrim can be conquered by excessive ale, and so the revels quieted down as the night wore on, though they did not cease. The activities then turned to the singing of songs, some sad, but mostly those full of mirth. But before the tales became to bawdy, Faramir prevailed upon Lothiriel to sing a song of Númenor. She had surprised the entire hall when one of her brothers had interrupted in the middle by complaining it was too somber for a wedding feast by completely changing the tale, though still singing in verse, into one with a happy ending. Both Faramir and Éowyn had noted the look on Éomer's face, and long afterward as they looked back on the night, they deduced that it been Lothiriel's quick-witted improvisation that made the King utterly surrender his heart. But whatever it was, Faramir found Éomer standing outside the hall after all the ladies had departed according to some other Rohirric custom the details of which apparently no man knew whether or not he was playing prank or having one played upon him. Most of the men had either gone to bed or were still struggling against sleep and so it was that only he and his brother-in-law remained sober in the whole of Meduseld.

"I would like to thank you, brother," said Éomer quite abruptly, even as Faramir still approached.

"I suppose I should do the same," replied Faramir in a tone equally as casual. Éomer turned, wearing a broad grin.

"You should have seen your face. I have not had such a good laugh in years. I hope you were not too offended."

Faramir laughed politely. "Not offended. But I did wonder at your behavior before this morning. I read disapproval in your face, and I am not often wrong."

"So my sister tells me," said Éomer. "But in truth I disapproved only of a wedding in Gondor. Do not think that I disapprove of the customs of Gondor, but Éowyn means so much to my people, and yet she has had so little happiness here. I wanted to give her a good memory of this place. And yet our customs are so different. I felt that I should tell you, but found the various differences difficult to describe."

Éomer cleared his throat then and did not continue, and Faramir realized he would not. So he changed to subject, rather enjoying the discomfort the King was displaying.

"So you seem quite taken with Lothiriel," Faramir said.

Éomer looked at him askance, then cleared his throat again. "She is one of the fairest ladies I have ever seen," he said, then seemed to look at Faramir for some sort of encouragement.

But the Steward only shook his head, having opted to have a little fun with this trickster of Rohan. "I have never looked on her that way. She is my cousin, after all."

Éomer deflated somewhat, much to Faramir's amusement. "Well, I'm sure you should go look for Éowyn," he said, "Good night." Then the King clapped him on the back for the hundredth time that week and headed in the direction of his chambers.

Suddenly a thought came to Faramir's mind and he shouted for the King to stop. "Éomer!" he called.

Éomer turned. Faramir set his hand upon the pommel of his sword while brandishing a rakish grin. "If you pull any of this Rohirric wedding business with my cousin, her brothers and I will have to kill you."

Éomer's eyebrows raised. Then he laughed. "Oh, the wedding was just a little diversion, Faramir. I'm not through with the two of you yet."

Then he turned, still laughing, and retired for the night. For a few moments Faramir allowed himself to feel terrified, until he felt a gentle touch on his arm. He looked down to see Éowyn smiling at him. Then Faramir realized as his wife pulled him towards the hall that he didn't mind at all if Éomer King played another trick or a thousand. His pranks seemed quite agreeable to him.

*****

finis