Disclaimer: Of course the first song you see here is JRR's – it's the one Sam sings when he's looking for Frodo in the tower. I know the book says he kind of makes it up on the spot, but I figure he could have thought it up earlier. Anyway, the second one (the awful one) is of course, mine. Sorry.
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Chapter 5
They rode home in the soft, summer twilight, on a road much less crowded than it had been earlier in the day. Some farmer had cut hay today, rather than enjoy the revelry in Osgiliath, and Eowyn could smell the sweet, rich scent on the evening air. She lifted her head and sniffed appreciatively. She caught the fragrance of honeysuckle and wild roses mixed with that of sun-ripened grass and was reminded of summers in Edoras, when the entire populace would gather together to cut and store hay for their many horses.
She was pleasantly tired. The entire afternoon had been spent feasting and visiting among the many pavilions that the King had had erected on the Pelennor right outside Osgiliath. Fortuitously there had been plenty of food and ale, and the crowds had been fed and entertained until finally evening was approaching and everyone had to turn toward home. Gradually the mass of people melted away until only those employed by the King to clean up were left under the tents.
The group that headed back to Minas Tirith was noticeably quieter than it had been in the morning, with little bantering even among the soldier escorts, and the King, Arwen and Faramir each seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Eowyn looked to the west and watched the sun sinking behind the crags of Mt. Mindolluin, throwing a brilliant scarlet cloak over the city of Minas Tirith. For a moment it looked eerily as if it were on fire, and not for the first time Eowyn was glad she had not seen the beautiful White City the night Sauron's armies had tried to burn it. It was only a matter of minutes, however, before the sun finished its course and disappeared entirely behind the mountain, leaving the city awash in a soft pink glow.
Aragorn began to sing quietly, a song unfamiliar to Eowyn, the words telling of a quiet evening spent with loved ones long ago. To her surprise, Faramir joined in softly on the chorus. He often sang at home, but rarely in front of others. The King turned to him with pleasure. "You know that song, my Lord? It is very old."
Faramir nodded. "It is from Belfalas. I learned it long ago, as a boy, from a minstrel in my Father's court".
"Probably old Bretan," said Aragorn. "That is who taught it to me."
"Yes!" Faramir was surprised. "You knew him? He was ancient!" He reconsidered. "Well, I was eleven or twelve, nearly everyone over thirty was ancient to me." They all laughed.
"He had some Numenorean blood," said Aragorn. "I would guess he was nearly 80 years old when I knew him, and that was long before you did." He shook his head appreciatively. "He knew more songs than anyone else. Old songs that so many had forgotten; their history and why they had been written. I always enjoyed time spent with him."
"He died the summer I was fifteen," said Faramir. "I remember my Father said it was a terrible loss." The King nodded in agreement and they rode in silence for a while.
"Come, Lady Eowyn," said the King suddenly. "Sing us a song of Rohan."
"Sire!" she looked at him in dismay. "Minstrel I am not! My singing is best kept to the privacy of my own chambers."
"Sing the one you sing to Elboron," suggested Faramir. "The one about the pony."
"Faramir!" she gave him an exasperated look. "That is a ridiculous song, a song for children."
But the King and Queen joined in, urging her to entertain them, and soon she was reluctantly singing a silly ditty of runaway ponies and their dismayed masters. When she finished, her face was hot with embarrassment. Her companions cheered with pleasure, however, even the King's guards, and assured her that the song was perfect.
"Do all the songs of Rohan contain horses?" teased Arwen.
"No," replied Eowyn. "Only the best ones!" The Queen arched her eyebrows to acknowledge the good-natured retort.
"Your turn, Arwen," said Aragorn as they approached the shining mithril gates that protected Minas Tirith. Arwen thought a moment, then took a breath and began in her lilting voice:
"In Western lands, beneath the Sun,
The flowers may rise in spring,
The trees may bud, the waters run,
The merry finches sing.
Or there maybe, 'tis cloudless night,
And swaying beeches bear,
The Elven stars as jewels white,
Amid their branching hair."
As she finished, the company clattered through the gates and each of them looked up at the stars beginning to shine in the darkening sky.
"Is that an Elven song?" asked Eowyn. "It's very pretty."
"No," Arwen replied. "It is a song of the Shire. Aragorn taught it to me."
Aragorn nodded. "Master Samwise Gamgee used to sing it, as we traveled from Rivendell. I think it cheered him." He suddenly laughed aloud, remembering. "Your brother," he said to Faramir, "used to sing the words wrong on purpose, just to irritate him. He would sing:"
"In Western lands, there is no Sun,
The rivers rise in the spring,
The trees may bud, but have no fruit,
There is no pleasant thing."
But usually there, on cloudless night
The swaying wenches bear
Not Elven jewels, but ale-cups bright
So you have not a care."
Faramir laughed too. "Yes, I can imagine him doing that. How did Master Samwise take it?"
"With ill humor, generally," said Aragorn. "The younger Halflings thought it was funny, though, so that encouraged Boromir."
They made their way up through the city levels, moving through the quiet streets. It was close to the dinner hour in most homes, and they caught glimpses of families gathered around tables through open windows and doors as they passed by. At one corner, several children gathered to fetch water from one of the public cisterns located throughout the city bowed soberly as they rode past, even the smallest, a lass who looked barely four years old. Gravely the adults returned their salute, and Eowyn felt a fresh wave of regret at leaving the baby behind in Ithilien. She reminded herself sternly that they would be returning home soon, and that her purpose for leaving him had been to spend today with Faramir, and that the day had been a huge success.
"Will you be leaving tomorrow?" Arwen had seen her eyeing the children and guessed at her thoughts.
Eowyn looked questioning at Faramir, who in turn sent an inquiring look toward the King. Aragorn grunted in mock hurt. "I certainly do not want to keep anyone here who does not enjoy my company, even the Steward of Gondor." Then he smiled. "I have nothing pressing that demands your attention any time soon, my Lord. Take your lady home and enjoy your family."
"Thank you, Sire, I will," said Faramir.
They had reached the uppermost level of the Citadel and wearily dismounted from their horses. As the guards gathered up the reins and clattered away, Arwen hugged first Faramir, then Eowyn.
"It was a lovely day. I am so glad you came and we spent it together."
Eowyn held the Queen tightly. "Thank you, thank you." She whispered in her delicately pointed ear. "It was all perfect." For a moment she was fearful she might cry.
Arwen answered with a light kiss on her cheek. "It was our pleasure."
They parted and the women moved towards their separate chambers, leaving the men behind. Aragorn motioned in the direction of the fountain. "Would you speak with me for a moment?"
At Faramir's nod of assent, they walked over and sat on a stone bench placed beneath the White Tree. Since Aragorn had planted it as a sapling four years ago it had grown quickly and was now a sturdy young thing over ten feet tall. It was covered in blossoms that filled the air with a delicate perfume. The two of them sat in friendly silence for a while before Aragorn spoke.
"I know you dreaded this day," he said softly. Seeing Faramir preparing to protest he shook his head and held up his hand. "You did, you did, I know it. You hide your feelings well, but for those of us who know you, and love you, they are not so easily disguised. I cannot tell you how glad I was to see you and Eowyn this morning. I feared you would change your mind at the last moment and stay here in the city."
"I wanted to," Faramir admitted. "I told her so in our chambers. I said I did not want to be with a crowd of people, and she said," he stopped and made a little sound of dismay, "she said that often what we want, and what is best for us are not the same thing." The corner of his mouth turned down as though in regret at the accuracy of his wife's statement.
Aragorn grinned slightly and laid a friendly hand on his Steward's shoulder. "She is a very wise woman. You should listen to her advice very carefully."
"Spoken like a man who owes the loyalty of his subjects to the fact that he heeded his wife's advice and ordered twice as much food prepared as he thought necessary for today's celebration," needled Faramir with a sly look.
The King had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Yes, I learned long ago that the wisdom of the Elves can extend into many areas! And a good thing I did. Of course, she will never let me forget it!" He closed his eyes as though seeing the crowd again in his mind's eye. "Can you believe how many people were there?"
"At least a couple of thousand," guessed Faramir. "Maybe closer to three."
"Mmm." Aragorn made a noise that signaled his agreement with the estimate. "The day was everything I hoped it would be, for the people of Gondor." His eyes opened and met those of the man beside him. "Was it all I hoped it would be for you?"
Faramir pondered for a long moment, and then slowly nodded his head. "Yes, my Lord, I believe it was."
"I did not do it as your Lord, Faramir." Aragorn said it softly. "I did it as your friend."
"I know - Aragorn." Faramir rarely called the King by name. He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands before him, his head lowered. After a long moment he spoke quietly. "There are still some days when I miss him so much it is like an actual ache inside. This date has always been the worst. My thoughts have always turned to the 'what ifs' and 'why nots'." Aragorn said nothing, waiting while Faramir wrestled with his thoughts. The moments passed, the sounds of the city floating around them. Water splashed gently from the fountain behind them as an insect began to chirp brightly from a branch of the White Tree. At length Faramir straightened and met Aragorn's eyes. "Today you have given me a great gift. Now I have this day to add to the other memories; and it was truly a wonderful day." He looked down at his feet again, rubbing his mouth with his hand.
"Good. You are loved, Faramir," Aragorn stood and raised his Steward to his feet. "By your people, by your wife, by your Queen, by your King; and by your friend Aragorn. We cannot take your brother's place, nor do we want to. But never think that since he is gone you are alone."
Faramir kept his head down for a moment, and when he raised it, Aragorn could see his eyes were brimming with tears. Wordlessly they hugged, standing together for a long time, until at last Faramir loosened his grip and stepped back. "Thank you, Sire-" he stopped himself. "-Aragorn." He swiped a hand self-consciously across his face. "Well, ahem, I, um…"
The King gave him a gentle push toward his rooms. "Go to bed, Faramir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien." He gave an exaggerated bow.
Faramir returned the bow sardonically. "Good night, my Lord," he said as he turned to go.
"Good night, my friend." Aragorn replied softly as he turned to make his own way to the royal chambers. "Good night."