A/N: Thank you all for your kind reviews!!!
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The start of our ride to the Huadh in Gwanur was uneventful, as we all rode anxiously along the River Poros, but we were all relieved when the rain finally ceased, though the remaining mud did naught to help our journey across the hilly terrain. Eventually Lieutenant Anborn sent two of the Poros rangers ahead to scout for trouble while the remainder of us slowed, keeping alert for an ambush from behind.
When we were about six leagues from the outpost, one of the men who had been placed on point, by the name of Ulram, returned to the main group at a gallop, informing Anborn that there was a group of no less than fifty Haradrim ahead which appeared to be camped near the base of the grave- mound. Anborn's brow furrowed.
"I like this not," he stated. "Did you find any sign of Captain Faramir or Beregond?" But the answer was negative. I sat upon my mount in silence, my thoughts dark.
"Perhaps we should approach them under a white flag and ask them if they have seen our men," ventured one of the Poros rangers, by the name of Hador.
"No. Captain Faramir said he would be returned by yestereve. Yet he was not, so we must assume that something foul has beset him."
Damrod spoke. "Aye, An, but we cannot attack them without provocation. You know that."
Anborn nodded. "You," he said to Ulram. "We shall return to your partner's position." Then to the remainder of us, he said, "All else stay back at least one hundred yards from us, remaining out of sight of the Southrons. We three will reveal ourselves to them, and if they attack . . . well, you know what to do. We will meet at the base of the grave-mound when all is finished. Mablung, you are in charge."
It seemed a sound enough plan to me. Anborn and Ulram urged their horses away at a trot, and Mablung made sure that the remainder of us were gathered close before we followed after them. When we arrived at the appointed place, we sat upon our nervous mounts and waited. I squinted, trying to detect any movement on the top of the Huadh in Gwanur, but to no avail, for it was yet much too far away.
We watched as our three rangers stepped out of the copse of trees they had hidden themselves within and hailed the Haradrim. There was a short moment when the Southrons seemed somewhat confused, but then arrows began to fly, and it was all that they could do to get safely behind cover.
Mablung called for the attack and the rangers around me instantly thundered forth, their bows at the ready, arrows flying before they had moved within fifty yards of where Anborn was hidden. I stayed back, possessing no bow, but ready for close battle when the arrows were spent. It seemed to be going well, though I saw one of the horses go down, a black Haradrim arrow jutting from its neck. I quickly realized it was Anborn's horse that had been slain. I moved forward and offered him a seat behind me upon Windfola. He accepted gratefully and I gave him my arm and a stirrup so he could mount.
Once he was behind me, he loosed arrows like a madman, downing Southrons faster than I could count them. As he shot, he asked, "Have you spied aught of your husband yet, Lady Éowyn?"
I shook my head, though my gaze returned to the grave-mound. I could see a patch of white through the tangled brush upon the hill. Upon a lengthier examination, I realized that it must be Simbelmynë's white coat. "I see something up there, Lieutenant," I informed him. "You stay with Windfola. I must go to him."
Anborn called after me as I dismounted, but I needed to keep moving and did not slow, keeping as low to the ground as I could, while running roughly parallel to the line of Haradrim which had formed and were slowly advancing toward the rangers. It was not long before I heard the sound of swords clanging against each other, and I silently prayed that the rangers were all faring well in the battle.
When I reached a stand of trees, I came upon a few stragglers, who, not expecting me, were instantly cut down by my sword. Though I had lost sight of the grave-mound, I continued to circle the battle, my ultimate goal being the Huadh in Gwanur, where I prayed that I would find my husband unharmed.
I was perhaps thirty feet from the grave-mound, when I broke free of the trees, stopping to listen, thinking someone might have followed me. I heard a sudden sound to my right and turned my head toward it, hoping to spy its source.
I saw the Haradrim nock the arrow. I saw him take aim at me. And then I saw him loose the arrow, his expression strangely blank. What I failed to see, even as this missile of death hissed toward me through the air, was my husband, who had also launched himself toward me in an attempt to keep me out of danger. His hands roughly shoved me to the ground as his body landed atop mine, knocking the breath from my lungs. I lay stunned beneath him for a moment, unable to catch my breath, as his grey eyes lit with recognition and then darkened in concern, scanning my face. His voice was edged with panic, as he sobbed my name and then pled with me to speak to him.
"F-Faramir, please, you are crushing me."
Comprehension lit his eyes and he quickly shifted himself onto his side next to me, careful to stay low enough so that no one else could take aim.
I took a deep breath and swallowed before I glanced down at my own body to reassure myself that I yet remained relatively unharmed, but my eyes were immediately drawn to a thick, black arrow shaft fletched with white feathers that protruded from Faramir's left side. It dawned on me slowly what had just happened, and my heart sank as my gaze flew to his pale face. His expression was one of surprising calm, and I took strength from it even as he rolled onto his back, a low groan escaping his throat. I found my breath was missing again.
But his calm was quickly replaced by a certain wildness. "By the Valar, Éowyn, what are you doing here?" he moaned, attempting to keep a quiet tone.
"Hush, Faramir," I said, as I gently moved myself over him, trying to judge how deeply the foul tip had penetrated his torso.
"I will not!" he hissed. "You are supposed to be safe in Emyn Arnen!"
I looked again at his face and was startled by the mix of emotions there, the chief ones being fear and anger. This was the reaction that I had expected from him upon my arrival, but never could I have foreseen the circumstances surrounding it. Despite the situation, I felt my ire rising to meet his. "What right do you have to tell me where I am supposed to be?"
"Éowyn, I am your husband." He squeezed his eyes closed and took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure.
"You never said that I could not leave Emyn Arnen, husband. I shall do as I wish," I stated quietly. His breath caught in his throat as he accidentally bumped the arrow shaft with his arm.
"Eru's tears, I never thought I should have to endure this again," he whimpered as he, too, looked down at himself and tried to ascertain his condition.
Though I have been trained as a healer, and indeed spent several months helping in the Houses of Healing, never had I seen my own husband so badly injured, and I felt a moment of panic as the blood welled from the wound. But I immediately realized what I should be doing and set my emotions aside for later, as I flung my leather gloves off, tucking them into my belt. The arrow had managed to penetrate at the weakest point of his armor, the lacing that ran from arm to hip. I pulled the torn, bloodied lacing away, drawing the cuirass open, doing the same with his surcoat and finally his gambeson. All that remained was his linen shirt, already saturated with blood around the wound.
Faramir lay still beneath me, breathing heavily as I removed his dagger from the sheath on his belt and sliced the shirt open. For a moment, our eyes met, and I knew that though there probably would be further discussion later, he was no longer truly wroth with me.
"It does not appear to be deep, love," I reassured him, as I turned my attention back to his side.
"Take it out," he urged, breathlessly.
"A moment, Faramir." After laying the dagger next to him, I pulled myself off of him and moved myself once again to the grass beside him. I unfastened my cloak pin and rolled off of the woolen fabric, pulling it over his body. He looked amazed by the chain mail that I revealed, but said naught of it.
"Quickly, Éowyn. They may be approaching as we speak."
I sighed, knowing he was right, but I worried that being informed of the added pressure would not help me to assist him any more rapidly. "Find something to bite upon, Faramir." It was much too obvious that he had been in this situation before. He instantly pulled off the thick leather glove from his left hand and stuffed the cuff of it between his teeth before looking at me and nodding, bracing himself for the pain. I leaned over him once more, and he instantly slid his right arm under my body, before placing his left hand under his head.
Without further delay, I slid the tip of the dagger into the wound to judge the depth of it. His body tensed beneath mine and his breathing became ragged, but he made no other sound as I probed. I had been right, the tip was not deep at all, but the arrowhead was lodged between the lowest two of his ribs, and it appeared that it would not be removed easily. Besides that, I knew that the wound would bleed copiously once the arrow was freed from his flesh.
Suddenly I realized that there were sounds of someone else approaching, and my husband and I both reached for our swords simultaneously. But thankfully it was only Beregond, who was not very stealthy in his plate armor. The guard gasped in dismay at his lord's condition even as he ducked down beside us and kept watch.
"My lord, we must return you to the safety of the grave-mound," he said.
Faramir removed the glove from his mouth and after searching my face for a moment, he nodded and said, "Help me up, Beregond."
"Nay, Beregond, I would not have him shot again."
The guard grimly smiled at me. "I shall shield him from further harm, my lady. You keep low and go ahead of us. And mind the thorns." Nodding, I raised myself from my husband's frame, retrieved my cloak from him and replaced it around my shoulders, pulling the hood over my head. As I rose and moved forward, I heard Faramir groan in agony as Beregond lifted him from the grass.
I scrambled up the hill before the guard and tried to hold back as many of the prickly branches out of his way as I could, as he half-carried and half-dragged his lord to the top. He gingerly settled Faramir into the damp grass and cradled my husband's head upon his lap.
"What else might I do to help, Lady Éowyn?" asked Beregond, with obvious worry for his prince.
"Hold him fast, Beregond," I told him before telling Faramir to try to prepare himself for the pain that was yet to come. He nodded and replaced the edge of his glove between his teeth as I straddled his legs and bent over him. Beregond crossed Faramir's arms across this chest and pressed his wrists against his shoulders as I slid the tip of the dagger back into the wound to widen it enough that I might pull out the arrow with more ease.
Faramir shuddered in agony but made no sound besides his harsh breathing. His blood flowed over my fingers as I worked quickly but carefully to pry the arrowhead from his ribs. I finally pulled upon the shaft with a steady pressure, working it back and forth, and praying that it would come free soon, as it seemed that my husband had nearly reached the end of his endurance.
I made the mistake of looking upon my patient's face, and I glimpsed the pleading look in his grey eyes, unintentional tears running down his cheeks, and I realized that if he had not had that glove in his mouth, he would be begging me with his voice as well. Guilt flooded me because I knew that his condition was all my fault.
Without further thought, I shifted myself off of his legs and sat beside him, bracing my booted feet against him on either side of the foul arrow, before pulling at it with both hands. No longer could Faramir hold back his cries, and Beregond looked around us as if making certain that we were yet alone.
With a suddenness that I deem startled us all, the arrow finally dislodged from him, and I nearly fell backward with the effort I had exerted. Worried, I pressed my cape against the wound, hoping to staunch the flow of Faramir's lifeblood from his body, as I examined the tip of the arrowhead. I sighed in relief as it did not appear to be poisoned. Beregond released Faramir's arms gently laying them at his sides, lowered his head to the ground, pulling the glove from his slack lips, and stood slowly, crossing to his horse for something from his pack.
Faramir's face was as pale as death, a sheen of cold sweat there, his breathing shallow and uneven. I prayed to the Valar that he would not die. Beregond returned with a shirt that he quickly ripped into strips before he knelt and propped Faramir up enough for us to wind the makeshift bandages around his body, clothes, cuirass and all, hoping they would hold well enough until we could return the prince to the outpost.
"Beregond, we must bring him out of this chill air. He needs warmth and rest." My voice was shaking, indeed, my entire body shook, and I hoped that the guard did not notice.
"It remains unsafe, my lady. The battle yet rages below," he murmured. Leaving Faramir propped against his chest, Beregond removed his own cape and draped it over the prince. "You did well, Lady Éowyn," he quietly assured me, but all I could think about was that my hands were yet covered with my husband's blood, both literally and figuratively. Suddenly, I felt very tired. After using my already-ruined cloak to wipe my hands clean of most of Faramir's blood, I crawled closer to where Beregond was kneeling and stroked my husband's cheek with the back of my fingers.
"My lady," Beregond said quietly after a short time, "if you would take him, I shall ride down and see if the Haradrim have been successfully thwarted." I nodded silently and after rising, moved around to the other side of Faramir, knelt and slipped my arms around him as Beregond released him and stood. "I shall return as soon as I might, my lady." He mounted his horse and galloped away with all haste.
I cradled Faramir's head gently against my shoulder, my tears further dampening his face as I silently begged him to forgive me my selfishness.
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"Man of Gondor . . . " It was but a whisper at first, but I realized immediately that the Rohirrim from my first dream had returned. They called to me until I finally acknowledged them.
"Man of Gondor, your lady wife, our niece is most beautiful. Ye are a very fortunate man that a shield-maiden such as she consented to marry ye."
They did not say aught of which I was not already well aware, so I chose to remain silent. I was much too tired to speak if there was no need for it.
"We thank ye for protecting our niece and her son from the Haradrim and accept your blood as another honorable offering."
I lay silent within the comforting darkness, vaguely listening to their words, and I suddenly realized that they had said something that made little sense to me.
"Your niece and . . . her son?" I breathed.
"Yea, Steward of Gondor, her son . . . and yours."
I was stunned. Éowyn was with child! Joy blossomed in my heart, and I heard their laughter and joined them in it as I finally realized what their words meant.
"Faramir?" Éowyn's voice chased away my dream. "Are you laughing, my husband?"
I slowly opened my eyes, squinting against the harsh light of day, groaning in protest of the pain in my side. Dimly realizing that we were yet upon the grave-mound, I felt a comforting presence at my back, and I turned my head to look into my love's beautiful face, as she gazed at me from her position behind me. She looked somewhat bemused, I thought, and I could not help but smile at her disconcerted expression. Her fingers brushed my face as if she were searching for something there, and I leaned into her touch.
"Faramir, dear? Were you laughing?"
"I was," I admitted. She shifted her hold on me somewhat so she could see my face better, and I sighed to feel her arms so firmly about me. "How do you feel, my love?" she asked, obviously worried.
"Absolutely wonderful, Éowyn." Again her hand rested against my cheek, and I reassured her with a chuckle that I was not burning with fever. "I know of your secret, my dearest."
Her brow furrowed. "My secret? Faramir, whatever are you speaking of?"
"I know that you carry our son within you." I smiled broadly at her.
She gasped softly, and her hand instinctively reached toward her belly, tears springing to her wondering eyes. "How could you know that, Faramir, when I am yet uncertain of it myself?"
I was doubtful that she would believe the truth of my tale, and as I related to her both of my Rohirric dreams, her expression remained unreadable. When I had finished, she sat silently a moment, and then her eyes sparkled with yet more tears, and a wondrous smile lit her face, and she was so beautiful that I could almost not bear to look upon her.
"If my uncles Folcred and Fastred told you that I bear your son, then it must be truth." Then she hugged me more tightly against her and as she wept, she alternately thanked me and begged me for my forgiveness, kisses and tears raining upon my face.
I wished to comfort her, for she seemed to feel she had done something to wrong me, but I was exhausted, my body beginning to betray me, and I did not have the strength to force it to obey. I slipped into dreamless sleep, the sound of my wife's voice murmuring sweet words in my ear.
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My husband's rangers returned on foot with Beregond, who was leading his horse, a short while after Faramir slipped back into unconsciousness. I was yet weeping over him, overcome with emotion to know that we were to be parents, but as I looked up at the men, I saw their faces were ashen, their expressions twisted with sadness.
"What has happened?" I asked, wondering who might have fallen in battle. Lieutenant Anborn found his voice first as they all approached us slowly.
"My lady," he began, his voice quavering, "I am so sorry." All of them sank to the ground around us, grief etched on their faces. It was then that I realized that they had misunderstood my tears and thought that their Captain had not survived his wound.
They must have deemed me hysterical when I started to laugh through my tears. "He lives yet," I told them. Their relief was a palpable wave of released breath and quiet prayers of gratitude to the Valar. "I cry only because I love him so very much."
Anborn was the first to stand. "My lady, let us hasten your lord husband back to the outpost at once. I think we are all desperately in need of a rest."
I nodded and allowed him to lift Faramir from my arms. As we all stood, Beregond mounted his horse and then the rangers carefully raised my husband onto the horse before his guard. After retrieving my husband's bow and pack, stuffing his gloves within it, I mounted Simbelmynë and followed Beregond's mount to the base of the grave-mound, where the Poros rangers awaited us. I took note that none of them seemed to be badly injured as my husband's rangers mounted their horses, and we started back to the outpost at a pace that would not jar Faramir's injury too badly.
It was quite late when we finally arrived at the outpost, having stopped once to rebind Faramir's wound when it bled through his bandages. Lieutenant Odrastor appeared from his office as we approached, and he looked stunned at my husband's condition. Quickly he ushered Anborn, who had taken Faramir again from Beregond, through the barracks, and they gently deposited him in one of the cots behind my curtains. Lamps were brought for added light, as the men dexterously stripped Faramir's baldric, cloak, cuirass, belt, greatcoat, gambeson, and finally, his ruined linen shirt from his shivering frame, while I held clean bandages firmly against his side.
"If there is aught you require, my princess, I will have it brought to you," Odrastor finally said when my husband lay more peacefully upon the straw mattress.
"Heat is the chief thing, Lieutenant. That, and more blankets," I said as I pulled off Faramir's boots and unfastened his trousers, bidding Anborn to remove them. I had not realized that Odrastor had yet departed until he had returned, he and Ulram bearing a small brazier to the bedside, and Ulram began to build a fire within it while Odrastor went to retrieve more blankets.
Captain Einarfin arrived with his men as well, their faces grim.
"Are you injured as well, Lady Éowyn?" he asked, when he noticed the frightening quantity of blood upon my cape.
"Nay, Captain, I am well." I spared a moment to face the guards. "Could you bring the sewing kit to me at once?" Without a word, William was away.
"I shall send word at once to the king of his steward's condition and of the situation with the Haradrim," Einarfin told Odrastor before he ordered Foli and Sirinto to Minas Tirith. Odrastor called to two of his men and commanded them to accompany my guards on their journey.
"Wait, Foli!" He halted and I bade him to help me remove his chain hauberk. He smiled a little, and I bent while he pulled it off. "Thank you so much," I said. He simply nodded and slung it over his shoulder, departing with a bow.
Soon Faramir was resting comfortably, his wound cleaned, sewn, and properly bandaged, and he was finally sufficiently warmed. Both Odrastor and Anborn were bidding me to take some sleep while I might. I nodded, accepting the suggestion with a yawn. And then all of the men were gone and I was left alone with Faramir.
I extinguished all of the lamps but one before I began to remove my clothing, feeling more than a little begrimed between the rust stains upon my skin from the borrowed hauberk and the mud from the journey. When I was properly attired in a gown, I sat upon the edge of Faramir's cot and took his hand in mine, softly stroking his hair with the other.
And I gazed with wonder upon him as he slept, mystified by the dreams he had spoken of, this husband of mine, who had gotten me with child and had known of it before me.
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The start of our ride to the Huadh in Gwanur was uneventful, as we all rode anxiously along the River Poros, but we were all relieved when the rain finally ceased, though the remaining mud did naught to help our journey across the hilly terrain. Eventually Lieutenant Anborn sent two of the Poros rangers ahead to scout for trouble while the remainder of us slowed, keeping alert for an ambush from behind.
When we were about six leagues from the outpost, one of the men who had been placed on point, by the name of Ulram, returned to the main group at a gallop, informing Anborn that there was a group of no less than fifty Haradrim ahead which appeared to be camped near the base of the grave- mound. Anborn's brow furrowed.
"I like this not," he stated. "Did you find any sign of Captain Faramir or Beregond?" But the answer was negative. I sat upon my mount in silence, my thoughts dark.
"Perhaps we should approach them under a white flag and ask them if they have seen our men," ventured one of the Poros rangers, by the name of Hador.
"No. Captain Faramir said he would be returned by yestereve. Yet he was not, so we must assume that something foul has beset him."
Damrod spoke. "Aye, An, but we cannot attack them without provocation. You know that."
Anborn nodded. "You," he said to Ulram. "We shall return to your partner's position." Then to the remainder of us, he said, "All else stay back at least one hundred yards from us, remaining out of sight of the Southrons. We three will reveal ourselves to them, and if they attack . . . well, you know what to do. We will meet at the base of the grave-mound when all is finished. Mablung, you are in charge."
It seemed a sound enough plan to me. Anborn and Ulram urged their horses away at a trot, and Mablung made sure that the remainder of us were gathered close before we followed after them. When we arrived at the appointed place, we sat upon our nervous mounts and waited. I squinted, trying to detect any movement on the top of the Huadh in Gwanur, but to no avail, for it was yet much too far away.
We watched as our three rangers stepped out of the copse of trees they had hidden themselves within and hailed the Haradrim. There was a short moment when the Southrons seemed somewhat confused, but then arrows began to fly, and it was all that they could do to get safely behind cover.
Mablung called for the attack and the rangers around me instantly thundered forth, their bows at the ready, arrows flying before they had moved within fifty yards of where Anborn was hidden. I stayed back, possessing no bow, but ready for close battle when the arrows were spent. It seemed to be going well, though I saw one of the horses go down, a black Haradrim arrow jutting from its neck. I quickly realized it was Anborn's horse that had been slain. I moved forward and offered him a seat behind me upon Windfola. He accepted gratefully and I gave him my arm and a stirrup so he could mount.
Once he was behind me, he loosed arrows like a madman, downing Southrons faster than I could count them. As he shot, he asked, "Have you spied aught of your husband yet, Lady Éowyn?"
I shook my head, though my gaze returned to the grave-mound. I could see a patch of white through the tangled brush upon the hill. Upon a lengthier examination, I realized that it must be Simbelmynë's white coat. "I see something up there, Lieutenant," I informed him. "You stay with Windfola. I must go to him."
Anborn called after me as I dismounted, but I needed to keep moving and did not slow, keeping as low to the ground as I could, while running roughly parallel to the line of Haradrim which had formed and were slowly advancing toward the rangers. It was not long before I heard the sound of swords clanging against each other, and I silently prayed that the rangers were all faring well in the battle.
When I reached a stand of trees, I came upon a few stragglers, who, not expecting me, were instantly cut down by my sword. Though I had lost sight of the grave-mound, I continued to circle the battle, my ultimate goal being the Huadh in Gwanur, where I prayed that I would find my husband unharmed.
I was perhaps thirty feet from the grave-mound, when I broke free of the trees, stopping to listen, thinking someone might have followed me. I heard a sudden sound to my right and turned my head toward it, hoping to spy its source.
I saw the Haradrim nock the arrow. I saw him take aim at me. And then I saw him loose the arrow, his expression strangely blank. What I failed to see, even as this missile of death hissed toward me through the air, was my husband, who had also launched himself toward me in an attempt to keep me out of danger. His hands roughly shoved me to the ground as his body landed atop mine, knocking the breath from my lungs. I lay stunned beneath him for a moment, unable to catch my breath, as his grey eyes lit with recognition and then darkened in concern, scanning my face. His voice was edged with panic, as he sobbed my name and then pled with me to speak to him.
"F-Faramir, please, you are crushing me."
Comprehension lit his eyes and he quickly shifted himself onto his side next to me, careful to stay low enough so that no one else could take aim.
I took a deep breath and swallowed before I glanced down at my own body to reassure myself that I yet remained relatively unharmed, but my eyes were immediately drawn to a thick, black arrow shaft fletched with white feathers that protruded from Faramir's left side. It dawned on me slowly what had just happened, and my heart sank as my gaze flew to his pale face. His expression was one of surprising calm, and I took strength from it even as he rolled onto his back, a low groan escaping his throat. I found my breath was missing again.
But his calm was quickly replaced by a certain wildness. "By the Valar, Éowyn, what are you doing here?" he moaned, attempting to keep a quiet tone.
"Hush, Faramir," I said, as I gently moved myself over him, trying to judge how deeply the foul tip had penetrated his torso.
"I will not!" he hissed. "You are supposed to be safe in Emyn Arnen!"
I looked again at his face and was startled by the mix of emotions there, the chief ones being fear and anger. This was the reaction that I had expected from him upon my arrival, but never could I have foreseen the circumstances surrounding it. Despite the situation, I felt my ire rising to meet his. "What right do you have to tell me where I am supposed to be?"
"Éowyn, I am your husband." He squeezed his eyes closed and took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure.
"You never said that I could not leave Emyn Arnen, husband. I shall do as I wish," I stated quietly. His breath caught in his throat as he accidentally bumped the arrow shaft with his arm.
"Eru's tears, I never thought I should have to endure this again," he whimpered as he, too, looked down at himself and tried to ascertain his condition.
Though I have been trained as a healer, and indeed spent several months helping in the Houses of Healing, never had I seen my own husband so badly injured, and I felt a moment of panic as the blood welled from the wound. But I immediately realized what I should be doing and set my emotions aside for later, as I flung my leather gloves off, tucking them into my belt. The arrow had managed to penetrate at the weakest point of his armor, the lacing that ran from arm to hip. I pulled the torn, bloodied lacing away, drawing the cuirass open, doing the same with his surcoat and finally his gambeson. All that remained was his linen shirt, already saturated with blood around the wound.
Faramir lay still beneath me, breathing heavily as I removed his dagger from the sheath on his belt and sliced the shirt open. For a moment, our eyes met, and I knew that though there probably would be further discussion later, he was no longer truly wroth with me.
"It does not appear to be deep, love," I reassured him, as I turned my attention back to his side.
"Take it out," he urged, breathlessly.
"A moment, Faramir." After laying the dagger next to him, I pulled myself off of him and moved myself once again to the grass beside him. I unfastened my cloak pin and rolled off of the woolen fabric, pulling it over his body. He looked amazed by the chain mail that I revealed, but said naught of it.
"Quickly, Éowyn. They may be approaching as we speak."
I sighed, knowing he was right, but I worried that being informed of the added pressure would not help me to assist him any more rapidly. "Find something to bite upon, Faramir." It was much too obvious that he had been in this situation before. He instantly pulled off the thick leather glove from his left hand and stuffed the cuff of it between his teeth before looking at me and nodding, bracing himself for the pain. I leaned over him once more, and he instantly slid his right arm under my body, before placing his left hand under his head.
Without further delay, I slid the tip of the dagger into the wound to judge the depth of it. His body tensed beneath mine and his breathing became ragged, but he made no other sound as I probed. I had been right, the tip was not deep at all, but the arrowhead was lodged between the lowest two of his ribs, and it appeared that it would not be removed easily. Besides that, I knew that the wound would bleed copiously once the arrow was freed from his flesh.
Suddenly I realized that there were sounds of someone else approaching, and my husband and I both reached for our swords simultaneously. But thankfully it was only Beregond, who was not very stealthy in his plate armor. The guard gasped in dismay at his lord's condition even as he ducked down beside us and kept watch.
"My lord, we must return you to the safety of the grave-mound," he said.
Faramir removed the glove from his mouth and after searching my face for a moment, he nodded and said, "Help me up, Beregond."
"Nay, Beregond, I would not have him shot again."
The guard grimly smiled at me. "I shall shield him from further harm, my lady. You keep low and go ahead of us. And mind the thorns." Nodding, I raised myself from my husband's frame, retrieved my cloak from him and replaced it around my shoulders, pulling the hood over my head. As I rose and moved forward, I heard Faramir groan in agony as Beregond lifted him from the grass.
I scrambled up the hill before the guard and tried to hold back as many of the prickly branches out of his way as I could, as he half-carried and half-dragged his lord to the top. He gingerly settled Faramir into the damp grass and cradled my husband's head upon his lap.
"What else might I do to help, Lady Éowyn?" asked Beregond, with obvious worry for his prince.
"Hold him fast, Beregond," I told him before telling Faramir to try to prepare himself for the pain that was yet to come. He nodded and replaced the edge of his glove between his teeth as I straddled his legs and bent over him. Beregond crossed Faramir's arms across this chest and pressed his wrists against his shoulders as I slid the tip of the dagger back into the wound to widen it enough that I might pull out the arrow with more ease.
Faramir shuddered in agony but made no sound besides his harsh breathing. His blood flowed over my fingers as I worked quickly but carefully to pry the arrowhead from his ribs. I finally pulled upon the shaft with a steady pressure, working it back and forth, and praying that it would come free soon, as it seemed that my husband had nearly reached the end of his endurance.
I made the mistake of looking upon my patient's face, and I glimpsed the pleading look in his grey eyes, unintentional tears running down his cheeks, and I realized that if he had not had that glove in his mouth, he would be begging me with his voice as well. Guilt flooded me because I knew that his condition was all my fault.
Without further thought, I shifted myself off of his legs and sat beside him, bracing my booted feet against him on either side of the foul arrow, before pulling at it with both hands. No longer could Faramir hold back his cries, and Beregond looked around us as if making certain that we were yet alone.
With a suddenness that I deem startled us all, the arrow finally dislodged from him, and I nearly fell backward with the effort I had exerted. Worried, I pressed my cape against the wound, hoping to staunch the flow of Faramir's lifeblood from his body, as I examined the tip of the arrowhead. I sighed in relief as it did not appear to be poisoned. Beregond released Faramir's arms gently laying them at his sides, lowered his head to the ground, pulling the glove from his slack lips, and stood slowly, crossing to his horse for something from his pack.
Faramir's face was as pale as death, a sheen of cold sweat there, his breathing shallow and uneven. I prayed to the Valar that he would not die. Beregond returned with a shirt that he quickly ripped into strips before he knelt and propped Faramir up enough for us to wind the makeshift bandages around his body, clothes, cuirass and all, hoping they would hold well enough until we could return the prince to the outpost.
"Beregond, we must bring him out of this chill air. He needs warmth and rest." My voice was shaking, indeed, my entire body shook, and I hoped that the guard did not notice.
"It remains unsafe, my lady. The battle yet rages below," he murmured. Leaving Faramir propped against his chest, Beregond removed his own cape and draped it over the prince. "You did well, Lady Éowyn," he quietly assured me, but all I could think about was that my hands were yet covered with my husband's blood, both literally and figuratively. Suddenly, I felt very tired. After using my already-ruined cloak to wipe my hands clean of most of Faramir's blood, I crawled closer to where Beregond was kneeling and stroked my husband's cheek with the back of my fingers.
"My lady," Beregond said quietly after a short time, "if you would take him, I shall ride down and see if the Haradrim have been successfully thwarted." I nodded silently and after rising, moved around to the other side of Faramir, knelt and slipped my arms around him as Beregond released him and stood. "I shall return as soon as I might, my lady." He mounted his horse and galloped away with all haste.
I cradled Faramir's head gently against my shoulder, my tears further dampening his face as I silently begged him to forgive me my selfishness.
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"Man of Gondor . . . " It was but a whisper at first, but I realized immediately that the Rohirrim from my first dream had returned. They called to me until I finally acknowledged them.
"Man of Gondor, your lady wife, our niece is most beautiful. Ye are a very fortunate man that a shield-maiden such as she consented to marry ye."
They did not say aught of which I was not already well aware, so I chose to remain silent. I was much too tired to speak if there was no need for it.
"We thank ye for protecting our niece and her son from the Haradrim and accept your blood as another honorable offering."
I lay silent within the comforting darkness, vaguely listening to their words, and I suddenly realized that they had said something that made little sense to me.
"Your niece and . . . her son?" I breathed.
"Yea, Steward of Gondor, her son . . . and yours."
I was stunned. Éowyn was with child! Joy blossomed in my heart, and I heard their laughter and joined them in it as I finally realized what their words meant.
"Faramir?" Éowyn's voice chased away my dream. "Are you laughing, my husband?"
I slowly opened my eyes, squinting against the harsh light of day, groaning in protest of the pain in my side. Dimly realizing that we were yet upon the grave-mound, I felt a comforting presence at my back, and I turned my head to look into my love's beautiful face, as she gazed at me from her position behind me. She looked somewhat bemused, I thought, and I could not help but smile at her disconcerted expression. Her fingers brushed my face as if she were searching for something there, and I leaned into her touch.
"Faramir, dear? Were you laughing?"
"I was," I admitted. She shifted her hold on me somewhat so she could see my face better, and I sighed to feel her arms so firmly about me. "How do you feel, my love?" she asked, obviously worried.
"Absolutely wonderful, Éowyn." Again her hand rested against my cheek, and I reassured her with a chuckle that I was not burning with fever. "I know of your secret, my dearest."
Her brow furrowed. "My secret? Faramir, whatever are you speaking of?"
"I know that you carry our son within you." I smiled broadly at her.
She gasped softly, and her hand instinctively reached toward her belly, tears springing to her wondering eyes. "How could you know that, Faramir, when I am yet uncertain of it myself?"
I was doubtful that she would believe the truth of my tale, and as I related to her both of my Rohirric dreams, her expression remained unreadable. When I had finished, she sat silently a moment, and then her eyes sparkled with yet more tears, and a wondrous smile lit her face, and she was so beautiful that I could almost not bear to look upon her.
"If my uncles Folcred and Fastred told you that I bear your son, then it must be truth." Then she hugged me more tightly against her and as she wept, she alternately thanked me and begged me for my forgiveness, kisses and tears raining upon my face.
I wished to comfort her, for she seemed to feel she had done something to wrong me, but I was exhausted, my body beginning to betray me, and I did not have the strength to force it to obey. I slipped into dreamless sleep, the sound of my wife's voice murmuring sweet words in my ear.
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My husband's rangers returned on foot with Beregond, who was leading his horse, a short while after Faramir slipped back into unconsciousness. I was yet weeping over him, overcome with emotion to know that we were to be parents, but as I looked up at the men, I saw their faces were ashen, their expressions twisted with sadness.
"What has happened?" I asked, wondering who might have fallen in battle. Lieutenant Anborn found his voice first as they all approached us slowly.
"My lady," he began, his voice quavering, "I am so sorry." All of them sank to the ground around us, grief etched on their faces. It was then that I realized that they had misunderstood my tears and thought that their Captain had not survived his wound.
They must have deemed me hysterical when I started to laugh through my tears. "He lives yet," I told them. Their relief was a palpable wave of released breath and quiet prayers of gratitude to the Valar. "I cry only because I love him so very much."
Anborn was the first to stand. "My lady, let us hasten your lord husband back to the outpost at once. I think we are all desperately in need of a rest."
I nodded and allowed him to lift Faramir from my arms. As we all stood, Beregond mounted his horse and then the rangers carefully raised my husband onto the horse before his guard. After retrieving my husband's bow and pack, stuffing his gloves within it, I mounted Simbelmynë and followed Beregond's mount to the base of the grave-mound, where the Poros rangers awaited us. I took note that none of them seemed to be badly injured as my husband's rangers mounted their horses, and we started back to the outpost at a pace that would not jar Faramir's injury too badly.
It was quite late when we finally arrived at the outpost, having stopped once to rebind Faramir's wound when it bled through his bandages. Lieutenant Odrastor appeared from his office as we approached, and he looked stunned at my husband's condition. Quickly he ushered Anborn, who had taken Faramir again from Beregond, through the barracks, and they gently deposited him in one of the cots behind my curtains. Lamps were brought for added light, as the men dexterously stripped Faramir's baldric, cloak, cuirass, belt, greatcoat, gambeson, and finally, his ruined linen shirt from his shivering frame, while I held clean bandages firmly against his side.
"If there is aught you require, my princess, I will have it brought to you," Odrastor finally said when my husband lay more peacefully upon the straw mattress.
"Heat is the chief thing, Lieutenant. That, and more blankets," I said as I pulled off Faramir's boots and unfastened his trousers, bidding Anborn to remove them. I had not realized that Odrastor had yet departed until he had returned, he and Ulram bearing a small brazier to the bedside, and Ulram began to build a fire within it while Odrastor went to retrieve more blankets.
Captain Einarfin arrived with his men as well, their faces grim.
"Are you injured as well, Lady Éowyn?" he asked, when he noticed the frightening quantity of blood upon my cape.
"Nay, Captain, I am well." I spared a moment to face the guards. "Could you bring the sewing kit to me at once?" Without a word, William was away.
"I shall send word at once to the king of his steward's condition and of the situation with the Haradrim," Einarfin told Odrastor before he ordered Foli and Sirinto to Minas Tirith. Odrastor called to two of his men and commanded them to accompany my guards on their journey.
"Wait, Foli!" He halted and I bade him to help me remove his chain hauberk. He smiled a little, and I bent while he pulled it off. "Thank you so much," I said. He simply nodded and slung it over his shoulder, departing with a bow.
Soon Faramir was resting comfortably, his wound cleaned, sewn, and properly bandaged, and he was finally sufficiently warmed. Both Odrastor and Anborn were bidding me to take some sleep while I might. I nodded, accepting the suggestion with a yawn. And then all of the men were gone and I was left alone with Faramir.
I extinguished all of the lamps but one before I began to remove my clothing, feeling more than a little begrimed between the rust stains upon my skin from the borrowed hauberk and the mud from the journey. When I was properly attired in a gown, I sat upon the edge of Faramir's cot and took his hand in mine, softly stroking his hair with the other.
And I gazed with wonder upon him as he slept, mystified by the dreams he had spoken of, this husband of mine, who had gotten me with child and had known of it before me.