~Chapter Three~

"We'll be heading back to Rohan tomorrow I imagine," Eomer stated briefly. He leaned back in the blue lined chair next to Aragorn.
"Rohan? Tomorrow?" Faramir was startled, "I had thought we would stay here in Gondor! At least, I believed Eowyn and I would. You might stay for a few days more, Eomer." He fixed his light eyes steady upon his friend's dark ones.
Pulling his lips together, Eomer told his friend, "I am now the king of Rohan. My city is devastated from this war. It is now my duty as the ruler to help reconstruct what was so grievously taken from us and destroyed. My people need me. Eowyn's people need her." He stood, grave and somber, quite sure of his decision.
"Eowyn is going to be my bride. You gave us your blessing and King Theoden, Lord bless him, would have surely extended his best wishes to us had he survived the wrath of the witch king. She cannot leave me when our wedding is planned for the end of hrívë." Faramir was filled with rage at Eomer's decision.
"Your wedding is not for over three months away. Eowyn is my sister and still holds closer relation to me. Theoden placed her under my protection. Lady Eowyn will accompany me to Rohan." Eomer fastened his bushy brows firm upon his long forehead and lifted his chin, as if to proclaim power over Faramir.
"You do no understand, Eomer," Faramir returned a cold glance, "I am now the subordinate to only the king. My place with Gondor is strongly established. As is with my wife-to-be."
"Never shall she leave my side until I will it so," Eomer stated stubbornly, "Keep your place, Faramir, son of Denethor, and do not provoke my anger, as to call upon yourself a withdrawal of my blessing." He turned to Aragorn, hoping for agreement.
"I must not be involved," Aragorn said plainly, lifting his light brows, "This is not my fight, and so even as king, it is not my task to proclaim myself mediator." He arose slowly and exited from the hall.
Faramir and Eomer stared at each other. Neither would give in.
"Faramir!" A sweet voice echoed angelically throughout the room. Both heads turned to see Eowyn running towards them, her long white gown and floor-length sleeves flowing majestically behind her. Her river of soft blonde hair fell to her waist.
"Eowyn," Eomer turned to her, "Pack your things for tomorrow. We are leaving for Rohan come dawn."
Eowyn's tender seashell-colored lips rose upward in a smile. She started to leave.
"Eowyn," Faramir stopped her, "I must say goodbye."
She paused suddenly. Startled, she spun around, a worried look drawn on her plain, yet beautifully featured face.
"Goodbye?" she stammered, her eyes glazing over, "What do you mean? You are coming with me, are you not?"
Sympathetically, Faramir laid a large, course hand on her baby-soft cheek.
"My lady," he whispered, "My place is here. My duties are to Gondor alone. Lord Aragorn needs my help reconstructing the white city. I cannot leave everything and go to Rohan."
A few stray tears slipped from Eowyn's azure eyes. She leaned towards Faramir affectionately.
"You must not remain here," she told him, "Rohan is my home. It was decided long ago that I would return there. I thought you cared about my happiness more than life itself! Is your choice a city over me?"
Cut deeply at her words, Faramir inhaled and bit his tongue to keep from crying.
"My fist duty is to Gondor. I made a pledge that I would protect it first and foremost. There is no choice involved in the matter. Never could I break my word." He turned his back to her and hung his head, filled with grief.
Awe-stricken, Eowyn let out a pitiful sob and fled from the room, her light steps fading into the distance. Eomer looked to Faramir, retaining his composure.
"Then your decision is made." He spun around indifferently and left Faramir in the hall, crying for the deprivation of his true love.