-/Pains in the Heart-
I don't own the characters, just the plot. However, I do have virtual voodoo dolls with which I do unrepeatable things muhuhahaha!
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---- Minas Tirith ----
Morning sunlight seeped over the sleeping city, dripping lazily into the courtyards and lanes. Aragorn stirred. By now, the sun was beginning to climb; Aragorn put on fresh clothes and made his way down to the dining hall.
Éowyn arrived at almost exactly the same time, immaculate in a white gown that covered her feet, looking both beautiful and awkward. She seemed to glide over to Aragorn. "I know not what to do," she shrugged; "the courts of the Rohirrim are not so formal."
"I shall see to it that you are at ease during meals," smiled Aragorn, his eyes twinkling. "The Stewards were well known for wrapping even the simplest occasions in unnecessary protocol."
Taking Éowyn's arm, he led her to the breakfast table; to the surprise of all present, he sat not in the great chair of the king at the head of the table, but it the chair just below it, and opposite him sat Éowyn. She smiled, knowing that it was for her comfort that he did not assume the royal chair.
"I have eaten in my chambers this past month," said Éowyn; "a maid brought me what ever I wanted, for I knew not how and when the people of the White City broke their fasts."
A great banquet was spread before them, running down the table like a runner through stairs. Aragorn took fried eggs and toast; Éowyn selected hot toast (straight off the fire) and placed some bacon and sausages on her plate. When she reached for second helpings, Aragorn began to laugh. "I can see that uncertainty has placed no damper on your appetite!" he said.
Éowyn chuckled weakly, but stared miserably at her plate for a moment, as though contemplating putting it back. Aragorn watched her and a faint smile tweaked his face.
"Eat to your heart's content, my lady," he said with a wan smile. He paused, considering her pensively. "Éowyn, perhaps we should wait..."
She stopped. "Wait for what, Aragorn?" she said suspiciously.
Aragorn sighed. "You are not yet acquainted with the ways of this land. Would you prefer to postpone the wedding? After all, there are no solid arrangements yet; we may still plan, but put it off longer."
It was a difficult question. Éowyn swallowed hard, looking into his eyes. There was no sign of ulterior motive, or jest, or cruel rejection, just honesty and concern. "I would prefer that," she said heavily. "How long do you wish to wait?"
"As long as you want," said Aragorn bracingly.
---- Faramir's Chambers ----
"My lord," said the servant, "the King sends tidings."
"What is it?" asked Faramir mildly, distracted by the large scroll that lay on his lap.
"He wishes to cancel his wedding to the Lady Éowyn..."
Faramir leapt off the bed so fast that the scroll unfurled and hit the ground. "What?"
"E-envoys have been sent to all the guests," stammered the servant. The Steward had been so tetchy of late.
"Cancelled?" repeated Faramir, "called off?"
"Oh, no, my lord, you mistake me!" cried the fearful servant. "Not abandoned, delayed."
"Oh." Faramir resumed his place on the bed and began to wind up the scroll. "Why, pray tell? Do you know?"
"Yes, my lord," said the servant, "it is to condition the Lady Éowyn to the ways of Gondor."
"I see," said Faramir, returning to his scroll. "You are dismissed."
The servant scurried out. Faramir set down his scroll again. "There is time," he murmured. The lore of Gondor could wait.
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I don't own the characters, just the plot. However, I do have virtual voodoo dolls with which I do unrepeatable things muhuhahaha!
--------------------------------------
---- Minas Tirith ----
Morning sunlight seeped over the sleeping city, dripping lazily into the courtyards and lanes. Aragorn stirred. By now, the sun was beginning to climb; Aragorn put on fresh clothes and made his way down to the dining hall.
Éowyn arrived at almost exactly the same time, immaculate in a white gown that covered her feet, looking both beautiful and awkward. She seemed to glide over to Aragorn. "I know not what to do," she shrugged; "the courts of the Rohirrim are not so formal."
"I shall see to it that you are at ease during meals," smiled Aragorn, his eyes twinkling. "The Stewards were well known for wrapping even the simplest occasions in unnecessary protocol."
Taking Éowyn's arm, he led her to the breakfast table; to the surprise of all present, he sat not in the great chair of the king at the head of the table, but it the chair just below it, and opposite him sat Éowyn. She smiled, knowing that it was for her comfort that he did not assume the royal chair.
"I have eaten in my chambers this past month," said Éowyn; "a maid brought me what ever I wanted, for I knew not how and when the people of the White City broke their fasts."
A great banquet was spread before them, running down the table like a runner through stairs. Aragorn took fried eggs and toast; Éowyn selected hot toast (straight off the fire) and placed some bacon and sausages on her plate. When she reached for second helpings, Aragorn began to laugh. "I can see that uncertainty has placed no damper on your appetite!" he said.
Éowyn chuckled weakly, but stared miserably at her plate for a moment, as though contemplating putting it back. Aragorn watched her and a faint smile tweaked his face.
"Eat to your heart's content, my lady," he said with a wan smile. He paused, considering her pensively. "Éowyn, perhaps we should wait..."
She stopped. "Wait for what, Aragorn?" she said suspiciously.
Aragorn sighed. "You are not yet acquainted with the ways of this land. Would you prefer to postpone the wedding? After all, there are no solid arrangements yet; we may still plan, but put it off longer."
It was a difficult question. Éowyn swallowed hard, looking into his eyes. There was no sign of ulterior motive, or jest, or cruel rejection, just honesty and concern. "I would prefer that," she said heavily. "How long do you wish to wait?"
"As long as you want," said Aragorn bracingly.
---- Faramir's Chambers ----
"My lord," said the servant, "the King sends tidings."
"What is it?" asked Faramir mildly, distracted by the large scroll that lay on his lap.
"He wishes to cancel his wedding to the Lady Éowyn..."
Faramir leapt off the bed so fast that the scroll unfurled and hit the ground. "What?"
"E-envoys have been sent to all the guests," stammered the servant. The Steward had been so tetchy of late.
"Cancelled?" repeated Faramir, "called off?"
"Oh, no, my lord, you mistake me!" cried the fearful servant. "Not abandoned, delayed."
"Oh." Faramir resumed his place on the bed and began to wind up the scroll. "Why, pray tell? Do you know?"
"Yes, my lord," said the servant, "it is to condition the Lady Éowyn to the ways of Gondor."
"I see," said Faramir, returning to his scroll. "You are dismissed."
The servant scurried out. Faramir set down his scroll again. "There is time," he murmured. The lore of Gondor could wait.
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