Fives

Welcome to my semi-fluffy, semi-serious, obligatory Faramir/Eowyn fic.  I guess every romantically-inclined ficcer into LOTR writes one of these, unless otherwise devoted to some bizarre non-canon coupling. :-D  Anyway, here's my take on the pair, with some notes:  There shalt not be any crying for Faramir.  The guy is the best of masculine geek.  Like Jeff Goldblum, he's tough and hot and a nerd and we love him for it!  Also, there is no question as to whether or not Eowyn and Faramir belong together.  They do, period.  Most of my character depictions come from the books, but with particular inspirational nods to David Wenham and his performance in the movie "Better Than Sex", which I would not have seen had he not made such a hottie Faramir in the LOTR films, and ladies, let me assure you, seeing "Better Than Sex" is well worth the Blockbuster rental fee!

I wrote this in a day, though the concept and most of the scenes had been built in my head for a week.  "All locked safe up here" Points at head.  

Summary:  Over the years of happy marriage, Eowyn learns there are patterns to life with Faramir.

Candle wax melted into puddles on the top of what was undoubtedly an heirloom chest of drawers in the Steward's Quarters of the citadel of Minas Tirith, but neither occupant of the room paid any attention.  In fact, neither was paying any attention to anything beyond the limits of the very large and comfortable bed dominating the room.    An eavesdropper would hear little beyond the rustle of bedclothes and the occasional sound of a woman's giggle, but then, no eavesdropper would have gotten within fifty feet of the room, since the Tower Guards were making sure nothing disturbed the wedding night of the Lord Steward and his beloved Sheildmaiden.

Sheild-MAIDEN no longer! Eowyn thought to herself, giggling again as Faramir wrapped his long arms around her and pulled her close.

"Why do you laugh?"  he asked into her ear, bestowing a kiss on the lobe as punctuation.

"No reason," she replied.  Twisting she turned to face him.  Soon, Faramir lay on his back as Eowyn propped her head up, leaning on an elbow.  She let her free hand wander over him, familiarizing herself yet again with the planes and angles of her husband's form.   "Think you shall we have a child from this night?"

Faramir smiled lazily.  "That's for the Valar to decide."    When she made to tweak his nose, he snapped his teeth at her fingers as if to bite, eliciting another giggle.

"And how many children would my lord like to sire?"  Eowyn asked playfully.

A swift expression of seriousness passed over Faramir's face, then he answered evenly, "Five.  If my lady would oblige."

"Five!  So many.  Why five, my lord?"

Faramir smiled.  "Every truly significant thing in my life has been related to the number five."

She made a great show of counting on her fingers, reaching only three.  With a wicked look, she teased, "I fear you are slipping, my lord."

He mock-growled at her, pulling her until she knelt straddled over his form.  "There is still plenty of time ere the dawn!"  With that declaration, he fastened his teeth on the soft skin of her neck, drawing from her a gasp of pleasure.

*

They sat together enjoying a luncheon the next day.  Traditions of both their homelands gave newly wedded couples several days of leisure after the wedding.   Certain expectations there were for this time, and wisely smiling servants had not needed to be ordered to bring all meals directly to the Steward's quarters.  King Elessar had made it  clear to Faramir that should Faramir appear in the Council room in any amount of time less than a week, the King would be mightily disappointed in him.  One of Eomer's gifts, a full keg of honey mead, had come with a note teasing Eowyn about the traditional Rohirrim 'honey moon'.   Faramir was ever eager to learn about Eowyn's culture, but even he could not condone, or survive, a full month of such leisure.

The couple had made plans to visit Ithilien by the end of the week, to assess the situation of a new home in Emyn Arnen, but for today, their time was solely devoted to each other.

As she ate, Eowyn asked, "Last night, you mentioned that significant events in your life are related to the number five.  Like what?"

He smirked.  "I won the youth archery competition at the Harvest Festival five years in a row."

Laughing, Eowyn threw a grape at him.  "Tell me something true!"

 "That is true!"  He protested.

"Something serious, then."

Faramir sighed.   His gaze drifted towards the windows, but he clearly did not see the view.   "Boromir was five years older than I."

Struck, Eowyn reached across the table to lay her hand over his.  "I too wish he were here, to be beside you, to share our joy."   He raised her hand to his lips gently.

"I do indeed wish my brother were here, though the idea of he and Eomer BOTH engaging in drunken celebration…." He shook his head ruefully.  "I don't think the city would have survived."

Eowyn laughed.  "The Valar protect us from drunken older brothers."

Later, she asked again, curious to see if the pattern of fives held. 

"My love, not all of these connections are happy ones," Faramir protested.  "Indeed, few are happy until now."

"Well, I still want to know."  She hugged him.  "I want to know everything about you."

"Twas not long after my thirty-fifth birth day that I met you."  He kissed her.

"Oh, now there is the attempt of a canny captain to waylay his enemy.   Cease distracting me and tell me another."

Sighing in defeat, Faramir settled into a chair by the fire, pulling Eowyn down to sit in his lap.   She snuggled into his shoulder, waiting.   "Most significant, my mother died when I was five.  Life with my father became ever more difficult after that."   They had spoken before about their fathers, or in Eowyn's case, her uncle, and it was not territory either wished to cross over again at this time.   Eowyn gently wound her fingers into his hair, twisting locks about as he pressed his cheek to the crown of her head, breathing in her scent for comfort.    They sat together quietly, enjoying the nearness of each other, their breaths and heartbeats synchronizing.  

Finally, Faramir continued, "I told you my father and I did not… get on well together.  Truly, for many years I felt the weight of his hand as well as his scorn."   Eowyn sat up, startled, her eyes wide in horror, but Faramir's wry smile belied the seriousness of it all.  "Twas when I was fifteen, after seven years of training with the sword and bow, like any noble son, that Denethor raised his hand as usual to strike, and I blocked the blow."    She could not contain a little gasp of surprise.  "I simply caught his fist, and stated clearly that I would no longer accept it.   Three days later, he sent me to Ithilien to become a Ranger."  His smile became genuine.  "I suppose that make the event both sad and happy, for I was ever happier in the wilds then in the City."

Returning that smile, Eowyn observed, "Perhaps we should dig our home out of a dun, and sleep on furs at Emyn Arnen.  Then should you be comfortable in your home!" 

"Perhaps I should leave you and your sarcastic tongue here in the City whilst I escape to the wilds of Ithilien!"  He taunted in return, but her response of sticking her tongue out at him led them down a course that required little more conversation.

*

"Goodness!"  Eowyn dumped a whole dipper of water over her head.  "What is the score?"

With a sip of water, Faramir spat, clearing the dust from his mouth before drinking fully.  "I believe with that last point, we are tied."  

The married couple spent at least two hours a week sparring.   The habit had grown not long after their wedding, and even now, more than a year later, they still kept each other on their toes in the practice ring.

Eowyn wiped her brow and then examined her blade before sheathing it.  "I was always more comfortable here then anywhere else."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, in Edoras.  The practice ring was always more comfortable to me, even more than my own chamber."  She smiled at the dummies, the dusty ground, the circling benches and the shed of spare and practice weaponry.  "They are ever the same, practice rings.  The Pelennor was my first real battle.  For all my title of Sheildmaiden, I'd never really fought."

Faramir grunted in understanding, balancing carefully to pull off a boot and relieve it of some rocks.  Re-shoed, he said, "You missed little.  Battles are never like the bards sing."

"Aye, that is truth."

"My first battle was against a party of Orcs in Ithilien.  I think the leader of our band was just as surprised as the Orcs.  Usually, Rangers shoot first, and only come to close quarters if necessary.  This was a morass of orcs and swords, even knives, and I was sixteen and frankly terrified."   His gaze fixed on a distant point.  Eowyn sat on a bench, curious to hear more.  Faramir so rarely told stories of his years fighting the Shadow.   "I slew five orcs that day."

"Five.  A goodly number for an unblooded warrior."  Her voice was admiring of his native skill.

Faramir laughed, somewhat bitterly.  "Well, I was also wretchedly sick for hours afterwards.  Lost lunch and breakfast, and possibly dinner the night before!"

"Still…."

"Still, I was good at it.  Good enough."  Another bitter laugh.  "Sufficient."

Now concerned, Eowyn went to him, resting a hand on his cheek.   He leaned into her touch.  "Forgive me, love.  The King bids me to South Gondor with a party of men, to chase off some Haradrim raiders.  I would do my duty, and protect Gondor…."

"But you do not love the sword, or war.  You love what you protect."  Eowyn whispered, knowing her husband's heart as well as her own.

Faramir hugged her close.   For a moment, they stood together, a frozen tableau, then Eowyn pushed away, needing to lighten the mood. 

"You reek of the practice ring, my lord!" She exclaimed cheerfully.

"Ah, I think you are correct, my lady!"  Faramir laughed, then raised his arms and stretched as if reaching for the sun.   A wicked smile played over his face as he caught Eowyn's appreciative appraisal.  "I should bath, then, lest I offend my lady love.  Perhaps you'd care to assist me, to make sure I live up to your standards?"

*

"Valar!"   Faramir lay on his back, absently admiring the carved beams over their heads.   "You shall be the death of me, woman!"

"But such a sweet death, is it not, my lord?"   Eowyn shook the hair from her eyes and snuggled into his shoulder.   "Besides, who is it that came in here and interrupted my embroidery, I ask you?   I did naught."

"Alas, you were so beautiful you seduced me with your mere presence!"  Faramir cried dramatically, making his wife laugh merrily.   The sound of a child's cry soon interrupted, and Eowyn willingly rose from the plush rug where Faramir had pulled her down and went to the cradle nearby.    Faramir watched, eyes alight with love, as Eowyn settled into a chair, holding their firstborn son close to feed.   "Whatever would I do without you?"  Faramir asked quietly.

"No doubt what any man does in such a mood without a woman handy!" Eowyn replied cheekily.  "What ever it is you've done since you were a lad of thirteen, I suppose!"

Faramir laughed at the insinuation.  "Twelve, actually."

"Oh, not a five?"

"No, the five was when I… never mind."

Eowyn lost her battle with humor, struggling to keep the babe comfortable as she swept tears of laughter from her eyes.  "Come now, I did not think you came untouched to our wedding bed!   Let me guess.  Twas when you were twenty – five years a soldier of Gondor."

Faramir blushed.  "Actually, five and twenty.  Boromir was horrified when he discovered my 'untouched' state, as you so tactfully put it.  He fed me a half-dozen mugs of ale and dragged me to a brothel of good reputation in the fourth circle."   Eowyn only laughed the harder.  "What can I say, I was too shy to arrange an assignation on my own.  Boromir called me a hopeless romantic, and insisted no man should die in battle without enjoying life when he could."    He laid back and waited patiently for Eowyn to recover her composture.

With a smile, she looked down at the year old babe in her arms.  "Well, my little one, at least you shall not have an older brother to drag you off to houses of ill repute."

"No doubt Eldarion will take care of that."  Faramir observed.  "Or we shall have to see to it that there is a little brother to assist."

"Or perhaps we'll give him a little sister, and the point will be moot."

Faramir snorted.  "Aye, so he make take lessons from his Uncle the King of Rohan and be a pigheaded pain in the arse when his little sister wishes to wed!"

Eowyn kicked Faramir, but only lightly.   "Hush you!  Our son shall be a devoted older brother, won't you, my sweet?"

Sitting up, Faramir gave Eowyn a long look.   "Will he?"  he asked carefully.

Eowyn's smile was serene.  "We'll find out in the spring, won't we?"

With a wordless cry of delight, Faramir bounded up and kissed her soundly.

*

The children played in the garden, laughing over their games.   Over ten years of marriage, Eowyn had given her beloved lord two sons and two daughters, and Faramir doted on every one of his children.   Other families in Gondor viewed the Prince of Ithilien and his family as the ultimate expression of familial bliss in the realm.

Eowyn rested her head against Faramir's shoulder as they watched their daughter soundly beat her eldest brother in the footrace.  

"We shall have to send her to Eomer for training as a sheildmaiden," Faramir said wryly.

Eowyn laughed quietly.  

Faramir looked down on her.  "Beloved?  You are well?"

"Oh, yes.   Only…."   Eowyn hid her smile.

Faramir's voice took on a worried tone.  "What is it, Eowyn?"

"Oh, only one more thing could make me truly happy."

Faramir's arms around her tightened, and she felt his worry in his tense posture.  "What do you wish?  If it lies within my power, I will do it."

She spared a moment to smile at the old words, as honestly meant then as they were now, ten years later.  Then, taking his hand and pressing it to her stomach, she turned her face up to him.

With a radiant smile, she simply said, "Five."

The End.