Disclaimer: Tolkien's folk-ien's, not mine.

Author's Notes: Thank ever so much for all the words of encouragement. As for the meanings of the names of the girls...I'm afraid I must shrug my shoulders. I merely played around with a Middle Earth name generator until I found two that suited my purposes. Sorry I'm not more creative than that:) Enjoy this next chapter. I promise, it isn't the last.

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A Love Beyond All Fear

by Kristen Elizabeth

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Éomer found his sister's husband in the nursery, standing over a wooden cradle that had been built for a single child, but was now serving as resting place for two. The room was dark as the heavy drapes at the windows were closed. What should have been a chamber of light and joy was like the rest of the household, gloomy and quiet.

Clearing his throat, Rohan's king entered. "Are they sleeping?" he asked.

Faramir shook his head. "I know that they cannot see much in front of them, but I believe they are considering me."

After a moment had passed, Éomer strode to the closest window and drew the curtains aside, flooding the room with mid-morning light. There was no reaction from the new father. "When was the last time you ate, brother?"

"I do not remember or care." Faramir reached into the cradle and as Éomer approached, he could see that one of the little girls had her tiny fingers wrapped around her father's much larger digit. "They are so small," he whispered.

Looking down at his identical nieces, Éomer had to agree. "They will grow," he assured him. "They are their mother's daughters."

"I know nothing of girls," Faramir confessed. "I cannot remember my own mother and I had only one brother. Save for…your sister, there have been no other women in my life. But now…" He shook his head. "What do I know of ribbons and dresses? Or proper etiquette for princesses or…" His face grew pale. "Suitors and dowries and…"

Éomer cut him off before he could panic any further. "Perhaps you ought to see them out of nappies before you marry them off, brother." His tone grew more serious. "Besides, my sister, although she may not always show it, knows all of this and more."

"But what if she…" Faramir stopped, unwilling to say the hateful words out loud. Holding onto the cradle, he lowered his head, his teeth clenched.

"She is not dead," his wife's brother growled, his temper suddenly riled. "Do not think as though she were, or we shall have words, brother, and none of them will be pleasant."

Faramir's head snapped up. "She has not woken yet! I have seen men riddled with arrows who looked more alive than Éowyn does now!"

"Because you grieve, I will forget you said that," he told the distraught man.

Neither one spoke for a long time. Finally, Faramir licked his dry lips. "If only I knew what crime I committed to deserve this punishment." When Éomer said nothing, he continued, "Was it not trying hard enough to convince my father to let me take my brother's place at the Council of Elrond? Was it being unable to find his body and give it proper rest with the great Stewards of Gondor? Was it my failure to defend Osgil…"

"If you are determined to wallow in the past, I shall take my leave," Rohan's king said, spitting out the words with much disdain. "But before I go, I will say one thing. For every wrong you think you have committed, how many rights must also be contributed to your name to give you what you do have? A healthy son, two beautiful daughters, and the love of a woman as fair and good as my sister…surely a man who is as unworthy as you claim to be must have done something spectacular to deserve these things."

Faramir poured over his words for a long time after he had gone. Only a tiny whimper from the cradle brought him out of his deep thoughts. He looked down at his daughters; Edoawen, distinguishable from her twin only by the fact that she was wrapped in a cream-colored blanket rather than a green, scrunched up her little face and began to cry. This woke up her sister who did not hesitate to start wailing as well.

"You both must be hungry," he thought out loud. A new despair settled over the Prince. If Éowyn never woke from her dangerous slumber, how was he ever going to feed and care for his daughters?

With awkward tenderness, Faramir scooped up the elder child with one arm and reached back in for her twin. Somehow he managed to balance both babies even while they continued crying. "Edoawen…" He stopped when he realized that the second little girl still carried no name. "Éowyn," Faramir called out with a tortured moan as he closed his eyes. "Please…do not leave us."

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She felt cool hands on her face, rousing her from the darkness that had been so vast, but so empty. Words spoken in a deep, soft tone filled her senses with their hypnotic melody, and she could feel herself smile as though she could understand them.

"Is this the kingdom of my ancestors?" she whispered.

"Nay, my lady. It is the land of the living." Her eyes fluttered open and above her, she saw the rugged face she had once thought to love. The King continued, "And I am glad to say you are still a part of it."

Éowyn blinked several times to clear away the last traces of unconsciousness. "My lord?" She tried to lift her head, but was gently pushed back down.

"Do not hasten to stir," Aragorn told her. "Your body is still weak from the loss of blood."

Thoughts flooded her brain and panic quickly set in. "My children…Faramir…"

"Relax. All is well."

But she couldn't. "Faramir…I want Faramir."

Aragorn looked towards the midwife. "Do as the lady bids." With a curtsy, the lady left. "Éowyn, there is something I must tell you. And there is no kind way to say it without simply doing so. The birth was very difficult on your body. In order to stop the bleeding, I administered a medicine which may affect your woman's flow from now on. There is a chance…" He stopped short.

"Do not hesitate to tell me anything, my lord." She drew in a breath. "I am long used to ill news."

He touched her cheek again as though she were his own sister. "I fear that you may not be able to carry a child again."

His words hit her like the blade of the Witch King, only they hurt far worse. Éowyn struggled with the news, battling hot tears with the valor of the bravest warrior, but at the center of her soul, she was suddenly afraid.

What would Faramir say? Would the news upset him? How many nights had they lain in bed after lovemaking, talking of children and their hopes for the future? He had confessed to her in those intimate moments that he wished for a large family with plenty of sons and daughters to fill their house. She suspected, though, that he desired more that his heart, once so unfilled, be nothing of the sort ever again. If she couldn't give him that, what was to become of their life together?

Just then, her husband entered the chamber, breathing heavily from his hasty sprint. Her heart, subject only to him, beat double fast and she could not stop her arms from reaching for him. "Faramir."

He crossed the room like lightning, stumbling to his knees at her side. His eyes, deeper than the sea she had only seen once, but loved instantly, met hers for a long, silent moment. With a strangled sob, he fell forward, his face pressing into the sweet curve of her neck. "Éowyn, my Éowyn," he kept repeating between the warm kisses he dropped along her throat. "I thought you had left me."

"Never," she murmured, running her fingers through his tangled locks. "Never, my love." So wrapped up in each other were they, that neither one noticed the King and Queen quietly slip from the room.

Faramir lifted his head reluctantly. "Am I causing you pain?"

"As if you could." Éowyn smiled. "Well, I suppose that this whole matter was your fault, but I was a willing participant, so I cannot saddle you with all of the blame."

The mouth she so loved to kiss curled up at the corners, before dropping suddenly. "We shall never again…I will never put you through this again."

He had made the same promise immediately following Elboron's birth. Back then it had made her laugh as she planned up ways to talk him out of that pledge as soon as she could. But now, tears filled her eyes. "No, you will not." Before he could question her, Éowyn grasped his hand. "Our daughters…"

"…are hungry and in need of their mother," Aragorn said as he re-entered the chamber with Edoawen. Arwen carried the other child, a cool smile on her flawless face.

Éowyn's hands ached to hold her children. "I feared it was all a dream," she whispered. The royal couple placed the girls in her arms, and the White Lady let loose the tears she had been holding back. "I did not want to wake up if I was to discover that they were…that something had gone wrong. But look at them." Her eyes shone as she glanced up at Faramir. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

"Yes," he replied simply. "Our daughters will thank you for their looks one day." Because she was too overcome to speak, he lowered his head and kissed her tenderly.

Aragorn cleared his throat. "If you will excuse us, we fwill retire to the guest quarters and rest."

Both Éowyn and Faramir called out to them at the same time. "Wait." They looked at each other, smiling, before Faramir continued. "Words cannot begin to describe our thanks, your majesties. Were it not for you…" He swallowed heavily.

Éowyn finished for him. "Thank you. Both of you…so much."

Aragorn shook his head. "We are friends. Ever shall it be." He took Arwen's hand. "We shall see you in the morning."

When they were alone again, Faramir brushed away his wife's tears. "We have a problem, my love." She frowned. "The youngest of our children has yet to be named. It does not do for a daughter of Ithilien to go about nameless," he ribbed her.

She looked down at the fussing child who lay against her left breast, the babe wrapped in green cloth, knowing through naught but a mother's instinct which child it was. "Her name…her name shall be Elioclya."

"The Princesses Edoawen and Elioclya." Faramir laughed. "What a pair they will be. I foresee much trouble in our future, lady. Still, for now at least, they will most likely be sated with a full belly each."

Éowyn nodded shortly, as though she could clear her thoughts of the melancholy the King's diagnosis had brought about. "Here." He took Elioclya from her and gently rocked the little girl as his wife began to feed her sister.

"What did the King say of your recovery?" Faramir asked. "How long does he wish you to be confined to bed?"

"He did not say." She consoled herself with the fact that it wasn't really a lie. Emotion flooded through her as Edoawen suckled at her breast. The birth pain was already a distant memory, and the joy of motherhood abounded. "Where is Elboron?"

Faramir lifted his daughter to his shoulder and patted her tiny back to sooth her whimpers. "With your brother, I believe. He will want to see you soon. As will Éomer."

She nodded listlessly. After a moment more, Edoawen yawned, closed her eyes and promptly fell asleep. As though they had been practicing feeding two babies at the same time for years, she switched with Faramir and offered her other breast to Elioclya.

When both of the twins were quietly sleeping, Éowyn could no longer keep quiet. "Faramir, the King does not believe I can bear another babe," she blurted out. A few minutes passed in complete silence. "I am sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Éowyn forced herself to meet his stare, and found disappointment there, not from the news, but disappointment in her. "Sorry for struggling to give me three wonderful children?"

"No, for…" She bit her lip. "I know of your desire for a large family. And beyond these three, I cannot give that to you." Her eyes closed and she turned her head away from him. "In addition to my other faults as a noblewoman of Gondor, I now lack even the ability to be a good wife!"

He searched for the right words as he sat down on the edge of the bed, Edoawen content in his arms. "If all I wanted was what the world considers to be a good wife, I would still live the life of the bachelor. Noblewomen who think of themselves thus are not for me; I have known this for many years. So after much time, I gave up hope that I would ever find a woman who was my perfect match. And more so…that if I did find her, she could ever want or love me back."

Faramir's expression was wistful with remembrance. "From the moment we met, I realized that my hope was not lost. It had merely been on hold until our fates were destined to cross. I do not have to tell you all that you have done for me, my Éowyn. You know. So it wounds me to think that you consider me no better than a husband who takes on a wife merely for breeding purposes."

"I do not think that," she protested. "At least…it did not sound so wrong in my head. But Faramir…"

"A son and two daughters," her husband mused, pulling at his stubbled chin. "Truly, can a man ask for more than that?"

Her vision clouded over with hot tears. "I know that a woman cannot, my lord."

"Then let us not lament without cause any further. We shall send for our son and your brother, and begin to plan a feast in honor of our daughters, the likes of which Middle Earth has never before seen."

"Sir," Éowyn said, marveling over the way in which he could turn all of her sorrows into pure happiness. "I do believe these two girls already have your devoted allegiance. Given a few years, I fear they shall be as spoiled as week-old milk."

He considered this, but dismissed it with a chuckle. "Is it not a father's prerogative?"

"A good father, yes." She sighed, content for the first time in since the birthing ordeal had begun. "And you are a good father." Her eyelids drooped. "Such a good father…"

When Faramir glanced at her again, he found that she, like the twins, was fast asleep. Shrugging, he lay down on the other side of his wife's body with Edoawen in his protective embrace and joined them in slumber.

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To Be Continued