Chapter Two

Author's Note: This is the chapter that starts the parallel with Shakespeare. Pretty much the only chapter you'll really see it. //Rachel\\

And to Lady Scribe of Avandell: Good guess, but no, it's not Cymbeline. It's a slightly obscure play I just finished reading, and it's being performed at our local community theater, so that's where this all came from.

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The next morning dawned bright and clear, the great land of Ithilien showing itself at its best. Éomer rose with the sun and found to his delight that his sister had not come out of this childhood habit either. She sat alone in the great hall taking her breakfast when her brother appeared, glad once more to be near his only remaining kin.
Faramir joined them soon and proposed a day of idleness, in order to properly introduce Éomer to Ithilien. A picnic on the banks of a small river, a tributary of the great Anduin, running literally just behind the house was proposed and gladly accepted. And so it was that Faramir, Éowyn, and Éomer bid their attendants to see to themselves, for the three would not be interrupted in their time together and would food in saddle bags if the need arose. For soon after they had breakfasted, they set themselves upon their horses and went off at a comfortable pace. Éowyn took as much joy in the land of Ithilien as she did the land of her birth, and she delighted in showing her brother every brook, stream, hill, and tree in the land surrounding their house, until Faramir took her horse by the reins and informed her that Éomer had many days to make the acquaintance of the trees, but now it was time to make acquaintance with the midday meal.
They sat, talking, laughing, and eating by the banks of the river, which was hardly more than a bubbling stream. Éowyn sat very near the edge and often dipped her hands and feet into the cool, clear water. Once too many, Faramir caught her arm before she could again trail her fingers over the surface of the water.
"You should be careful, my wife," he said. "For you are only just recovered, and I would not see thee abed again."
At these words, Éomer looked up sharply. "Have you been ill, sister?"
Éowyn tilted her chin up defensively. "Only a little," she replied indifferently. "I am well and strong, now."
"I would that you had sent word, that I might have come sooner," said Éomer, looking slightly distressed. But Éowyn smiled gently and laid her hand over his.
"More joy in the hour of your coming that I may bear my own weight and greet thee properly," she said reassuringly. "I shall not fall ill again, I promise you both. I eat well and sleep soundly, as one in great health. And as to sleep, did you fare well this night, brother?"
"I am most in your debt in the way of accommodations," replied Éomer. "I have but one curiosity. Last night I heard a sound outside my door, yet when I opened it, all was black, save for a light at the end of the hall and the shadow of a woman's gown. I have heard the servants tell of a widow who dwells in your house, Faramir, and will not be seen. If it be not too impertinent, I would that you tell me this tale, for I am intrigued."
Faramir and Éowyn exchanged troubled glances, and Faramir sighed heavily. "Alas," said he. "For the woman you saw is no widow. Indeed, she is---"
But what the lady was, Éomer was left to wonder, for at that moment, the three of them became aware of the sound of hooves; a man on horseback approached swiftly. All stood and waited for him.
The messenger dismounted and bowed to Faramir; he was a servant of the house. "My apologies, milord," said the man. "But a messenger from Minas Tirith awaits you in the hall, and he will see you immediately, as he must return to the city as soon as possible."
Faramir nodded, and the man waited for his lord. Éowyn stood by Éomer's side, and the messenger saw she meant to stay behind.
"I am truly sorry, milady," he said. "But the man has requested the presence of both the lord and lady of the house. He is resolute and will not wait, even when he is told the lord and lady are otherwise employed."
Éowyn sighed. "Will you return with us?" she asked Éomer, but he shook his head, smiling at her.
"Go and do your duty as lady of Ithilien," said he. "I will wait and explore a while longer, for I expect you shall return soon, if this man is in such haste. Do not regret, sister, for much time is ahead of us."
Éowyn smiled and mounted her horse, and she, Faramir, and the servant rode quickly off to the house.
Éomer did indeed set out exploring, though he went more leisurely and with less purpose than before. He did not ride but walked his horse and held the reins, pausing every so often to gaze at the view of the land.
He stood atop a small hill, looking down and back towards the house when he took note of a figure moving in the valley, a black speck on the vivid green landscape. He watched as it moved steadily towards him and saw it was not one figure but several, all in black, and at the front of them was a woman, cloaked and veiled as one in mourning.
The widow, thought he, who walks the halls at night. Is she but an apparition? How does she come here, but by walking, for her attendants have no horses. A long travail for an old widow.
He stood still as the troupe made their way up the hill, taking no notice of him at all. But when they passed straight by him without a glance or word, he turned and called out, "Wait, lady!"
The woman, who seemed not a woman at all for all her black crepe, paused and turned. Her face was veiled heavily, and her shape was concealed by layers upon layers of black fabric, making a wide and sweeping gown beneath which might have been a woman or an Orc, for all he could tell.
"Art thou the widow, who dwells with the Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn?" he inquired, moving to this strange woman.
For a moment, naught was said, and then so quietly she spoke that he could barely hear, but her voice was bitter. "Take away this fool, I bid thee," she spoke to the waiting-woman over her shoulder.
"Fool?" said Éomer, incredulous. "You know me not, yet you deem me a fool, lady? Then allow me to pay you the same courtesy and by so proving you the fool, keep my view of the land."
Another pause from the woman, and then, "Thou cannot prove me a fool," said she, and her voice was cold and hard as steel.
But Éomer plunged ahead. "Why do you mourn, lady?" asked he.
"For the death of a loved one, fool," said she.
"Of thy husband, lady?" he pressed.
"Of my betrothed," she breathed.
"And was your betrothed a mortal, madam?" Éomer asked.
"He was," said she.
"Then did he not receive the gift of the mortals, lady? To join with the music for all eternity?"
Silence reigned, and when finally the lady bowed her head in resignation, Éomer bowed his as well. "My apologies, lady," said he, and he saw her head nod beneath the veils, and away she walked again, with no words more, and he watched until she disappeared over the hill, wondering where and why she went forth from the house. His mind plagued him even as he rode back to the house, as he dined that night, and in bed, when he listened for the sounds of footsteps once more, but they did not come.

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Review if you can. This chapter is a big clue to what Shakespeare play the story is based on. Guesses welcome.