Author's Note: This is quite short and sweet but the chapter seemed complete and I felt anything else would have been redundant. Things shall pick up.... eventually. If you find this chapter somewhat tedious please forgive me, I'll make it up to you all. I'm positive I'll get some flames from Eowyn purists but ere you give me criticism read my note at the bottom in which I shall (try) to explain myself. Savvy?
Frankly, I've been quite preoccupied lately, with homework, test galore and a little three and a half hour movie I saw on the 17th..... I knew the House of Healing had been cut (it shall be in the Extended Edition, so do not despair) so I was quite ecstatic to see Eowyn and Faramir standing next to each other during Aragorn's crowning. And I dare say Faramir looked quite dashing and movie Faramir has earned a place in my heart alongside book Faramir and Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice.
read 'n review
Lauren
Chapter 7
Faramir, Eowyn, Faramir
* * * * * * *
Faramir
Ere the sprit of sleep carried me off to the blissful land of dreams I lay awake, contemplating anew the meager instants I had passed with the White Lady of Rohan that day. The thick night air stirred and a breeze rustled through the open window beside my bed, playing with and taunting the pure white curtain. The wind blew, the strands of thin linen of the curtain dancing above my head, fluttering around the unobstructed window. I sighed, recalling the wanness of her skin and reliving the iciness of her touch. Eowyn...
High above the city I heard the vague and distant, yet unmistakable terminal shriek of a Nazgul ere if bolted east at the Dark LordÕs beckon. At the sound I shuddered for it brought back memories of a time yet to bitter for me to even endure thinking. I wondered if she to harked the shrill, piercing cry of the Nazgul and if it to forced her to cringe. An image capered across my eyelids, An image of a young solider, clad in the mail and garb of a Rider of Rohan, standing before the mounted Witch King. All was silent, I heard nothing save an odd, bitter laugh, a laugh of despair and the image deserted me as swiftly as it had come. I thought of her now, blanching against her will as she heard the cry of the Nazgul again, a solitary tear falling from her troubled, grey eyes. I yearned to be beside her, to hold her, wipe away the lone tear I knew was straying down her face, to murmur in her ear. To tell her of how she occupies my thoughts now, tantalizing me incessantly. To tell her of the pounding cadence of my heart when she looks at me with her sorrowful, penetrating, desolate yet proud and stern gaze. To tell her.... to tell her..... to tell her that I love her.
* * * * * * *
Eowyn
There it was, sibylline and distant yet petrifying all the same. At the shrill, high-pitched screech my very blood ran frigid and though the night was fevered, being blanketed by the black velvet sky, I shivered. And a isolated tear emanated from my eye and fell unheeded to the ground.
My sub conscience reminded me of my brotherÕs faltered speech about my
requiring other remedy that neither Aragorn nor the Warden could give me through their herbs and chants. That I needed a love that neither he nor Lord Aragorn could give me.
Suddenly weary I collapsed against the marble railing of the balcony, laying my head in my limp, pale hands. I felt the cool touch of smooth stone against my ever chilled cheek as I gasped for breath. But this was no malady of the body, no affliction of my physical self yet an ailment of my mind, causing all blur and shift out of focus. It was an acceptance of death, I deem, and the nausea that follows that acceptance. For none can save you then, not even yourself, though try you might. I would die, through the decay of an anguish ridden mind, wracked with sorrow and despair. I would not decease in battle yet skulking far from the transpiring, yet vain, war that would shape the fortunes of all. And it was that thought, not death, that petrified me. As I struggled to bring my head up, to bask in the pale, sickly glow of the moon I was aware of a shrewd and trenchant gaze upon me. Ere I found the strength and indeed the courage to glance behind me the figure was expeditiously disappearing around the bend in the dank corridor. I saw the receding hem of a cloak ere I stumbled back to my bed and gave into to the sleep gnawing at me. But sleep held no comfort for me. Nothing did....
* * * * * * *
Faramir
I rose, something luring me through the corridors and to the balcony that overlooked the gardens, now shrouded in obscurity and darkness. I rounded a turn in the inky corridor, suddenly the moon bestowing itÕs the sallow, sickly glow on a figure crumpled against the railing. Horror overwhelmed me as I saw the slight figure shudder and heave as if retching. Then I saw the ripple of golden hair that so now often engrossed my thoughts, transfixing me, mesmerizing me since the first time I gazed upon it. Unbridled terror washed through me as I watched her struggle alone in the umbra, utterly solitary. I knew that I could not assist her, not yet.....
She shifted, raising herself with a tremulous arm, to look behind her but I faded to where the moon could not shine, sinking into the onyx. As I fumbled my way back to my chamber for the first time I doubted, my hope ceased. If she would perish... I shook my head violently as if to rid myself of this thought. No... I could never allow myself to despair for was it not despair that drove my father to madness and now plagues the White Lady? As I sank into the comfort of my bed all else ebbed away as sleep finally beared me away.
* * * * * * *
A/N: Ah, Eowyn's desperation. I know she wants to die but I think she does not wish to die in the House of Healing, but rather in battle and the fact that she will is terrifying her in way. She's ill becasue she has accpeted the fact that she shall not win the death in battle she has yearned for. She already as valor but I believe she fails to recognize that in her struggles. Savvy?
Lauren
Frankly, I've been quite preoccupied lately, with homework, test galore and a little three and a half hour movie I saw on the 17th..... I knew the House of Healing had been cut (it shall be in the Extended Edition, so do not despair) so I was quite ecstatic to see Eowyn and Faramir standing next to each other during Aragorn's crowning. And I dare say Faramir looked quite dashing and movie Faramir has earned a place in my heart alongside book Faramir and Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice.
read 'n review
Lauren
Chapter 7
Faramir, Eowyn, Faramir
* * * * * * *
Faramir
Ere the sprit of sleep carried me off to the blissful land of dreams I lay awake, contemplating anew the meager instants I had passed with the White Lady of Rohan that day. The thick night air stirred and a breeze rustled through the open window beside my bed, playing with and taunting the pure white curtain. The wind blew, the strands of thin linen of the curtain dancing above my head, fluttering around the unobstructed window. I sighed, recalling the wanness of her skin and reliving the iciness of her touch. Eowyn...
High above the city I heard the vague and distant, yet unmistakable terminal shriek of a Nazgul ere if bolted east at the Dark LordÕs beckon. At the sound I shuddered for it brought back memories of a time yet to bitter for me to even endure thinking. I wondered if she to harked the shrill, piercing cry of the Nazgul and if it to forced her to cringe. An image capered across my eyelids, An image of a young solider, clad in the mail and garb of a Rider of Rohan, standing before the mounted Witch King. All was silent, I heard nothing save an odd, bitter laugh, a laugh of despair and the image deserted me as swiftly as it had come. I thought of her now, blanching against her will as she heard the cry of the Nazgul again, a solitary tear falling from her troubled, grey eyes. I yearned to be beside her, to hold her, wipe away the lone tear I knew was straying down her face, to murmur in her ear. To tell her of how she occupies my thoughts now, tantalizing me incessantly. To tell her of the pounding cadence of my heart when she looks at me with her sorrowful, penetrating, desolate yet proud and stern gaze. To tell her.... to tell her..... to tell her that I love her.
* * * * * * *
Eowyn
There it was, sibylline and distant yet petrifying all the same. At the shrill, high-pitched screech my very blood ran frigid and though the night was fevered, being blanketed by the black velvet sky, I shivered. And a isolated tear emanated from my eye and fell unheeded to the ground.
My sub conscience reminded me of my brotherÕs faltered speech about my
requiring other remedy that neither Aragorn nor the Warden could give me through their herbs and chants. That I needed a love that neither he nor Lord Aragorn could give me.
Suddenly weary I collapsed against the marble railing of the balcony, laying my head in my limp, pale hands. I felt the cool touch of smooth stone against my ever chilled cheek as I gasped for breath. But this was no malady of the body, no affliction of my physical self yet an ailment of my mind, causing all blur and shift out of focus. It was an acceptance of death, I deem, and the nausea that follows that acceptance. For none can save you then, not even yourself, though try you might. I would die, through the decay of an anguish ridden mind, wracked with sorrow and despair. I would not decease in battle yet skulking far from the transpiring, yet vain, war that would shape the fortunes of all. And it was that thought, not death, that petrified me. As I struggled to bring my head up, to bask in the pale, sickly glow of the moon I was aware of a shrewd and trenchant gaze upon me. Ere I found the strength and indeed the courage to glance behind me the figure was expeditiously disappearing around the bend in the dank corridor. I saw the receding hem of a cloak ere I stumbled back to my bed and gave into to the sleep gnawing at me. But sleep held no comfort for me. Nothing did....
* * * * * * *
Faramir
I rose, something luring me through the corridors and to the balcony that overlooked the gardens, now shrouded in obscurity and darkness. I rounded a turn in the inky corridor, suddenly the moon bestowing itÕs the sallow, sickly glow on a figure crumpled against the railing. Horror overwhelmed me as I saw the slight figure shudder and heave as if retching. Then I saw the ripple of golden hair that so now often engrossed my thoughts, transfixing me, mesmerizing me since the first time I gazed upon it. Unbridled terror washed through me as I watched her struggle alone in the umbra, utterly solitary. I knew that I could not assist her, not yet.....
She shifted, raising herself with a tremulous arm, to look behind her but I faded to where the moon could not shine, sinking into the onyx. As I fumbled my way back to my chamber for the first time I doubted, my hope ceased. If she would perish... I shook my head violently as if to rid myself of this thought. No... I could never allow myself to despair for was it not despair that drove my father to madness and now plagues the White Lady? As I sank into the comfort of my bed all else ebbed away as sleep finally beared me away.
* * * * * * *
A/N: Ah, Eowyn's desperation. I know she wants to die but I think she does not wish to die in the House of Healing, but rather in battle and the fact that she will is terrifying her in way. She's ill becasue she has accpeted the fact that she shall not win the death in battle she has yearned for. She already as valor but I believe she fails to recognize that in her struggles. Savvy?
Lauren