Early the next morning Faramir and Eowyn saddled up their horses and set out for the hills. It wasn't safe to go extremely far away, but Faramir knew the valleys and mountains of Ithilien well enough (after twenty years) to know which were safe and which were not.
The morning was crisp and chilly, and the dew stood sparkling from every blade of grass. Both horses seemed eager and excited to be on their way, and their hooves crunched the ground merrily. Eowyn's white horse had bells attached to her harness which rang merrily in a fairy-delicate way as they trotted briskly over the fields. The sky was just turning pink in the east when they set out, and both were wrapped in cloaks.
Faramir turned his head the tiniest bit to see Eowyn riding along with her hair blowing in the breeze, wearing his mother's cloak. Every time she went out she wore it, saying that she felt secure and comfortable in it.
"It smells like you, Faramir," she would smile, resting her eyes on his face with love in her eyes. "And like the happiness in your life." Then her eyes would cloud over and she would reach up to touch the scar shaped like a crescent on his cheek. It took a lot of self-control for him not to flinch away when she did that. "There was not enough of that, Faramir. Not enough happiness," she would breath so quietly he had to strain to catch the words. And then he would cup her face in his hands and bring it close to his own.
"You have made me happy, Eowyn. I can forget the rest," he would murmur. And then she would smile and be herself again.
Faramir stirred from his thoughts and shook his hands to fight off the cold. "It will warm up when the sun rises," he said so that Eowyn could hear. "It's always cold in Ithilien before the sun rises."
"Tell me about Ithilien," Eowyn smiled. She turned her head and cocked an eyebrow.
Faramir turned and took in the sweeping vista before him. "Well, it's name means the Land of the Moon, Eowyn. 'Twas once the garden of Gondor before the darkness of Mordor overshadowed it. My grandfather, Ecthelion the II, once told---"
"Faramir!" Eowyn laughed, and he stopped.
"What is it, my love?" His tone conveyed his confusion. Eowyn seemed to be having a hard time getting a grip on her emotions.
"I did not mean the history of the place, though I'm sure you'll be more than happy to tell it to me in it's full and unabridged entirety. What I meant was, please tell me of when you were a commander here. What went on? And do not forget that I myself am not in the least unfamiliar with battles and such," Eowyn smiled.
Faramir nodded slowly. "Ah, I see." He fell silent for a long moment and the only sound was the crunching of the horses hooves. "Well, I was sent out here when I was twenty. I never quite knew why...perhaps it was because my father wanted to get me out of the way.
"Anyway, it was a rough life. For a lad whose never been in the army before and doesn't necessarily like fighting, 'twas hard indeed. But I suppose I am grateful my father sent me. And after a while I learned to like the life of a ranger, after its own way.
"What I really learned to love, though, was the wild rambling beauty of the place. It made me so sad to see first hand what had become of the garden I had read about in my books. I used to sit perfectly still, when my watch came, and listen to the gentle breeze and the insects at night. The moon always looks so full here. Not like in Minis Tirith."
Eowyn smiled. "And that? Tell me about Minis Tirith."
Faramir fell silent and busied himself with the buckle of the horses reigns. "There is not much to tell, my lady. It is the city I have defended since I was a lad."
"But surely you had a special place you liked to go to, like here. It was your home, was it not?" Eowyn pried.
"I suppose," Faramir said vaguely. Suddenly he turned on her. "But Eowyn, this is not fair! You have asked me about my home, and I have not had a chance to ask you about yours. Tell me of Rohan."
Eowyn smiled. "It truly is wild there, my lord. I must admit that I never thought about it like that until I came here, but it is. Even the wildness of Ithilien seems tame compared to the windswept plains of Rohan."
Faramir smiled. "Do you miss it?"
"Yes, yes I suppose I do. But I---"
"Go on," Faramir said.
"I did not see much of it, in the last few years of my life. Before the War of the Ring, that is. I was with my Uncle much," Eowyn explained.
"I see," Faramir replied. "Yes," he went on. "It has been long years since I visited Edoras, or even Rohan. There has been much to do here."
They rode on in silence for a long time, until Faramir slowed his horse and Eowyn followed suit.
"Do you like this spot, Eowyn?" Faramir asked.
Eowyn looked around and nodded. "Aye, it looks about right for a sword match. Shall we?"
They dismounted and stretched a bit from the ride. Faramir shot a glance over to his wife and asked, "Do you plan to fight in a dress, my love?"
Eowyn laughed and, with an impish smile, turned around. "Unlace me, Faramir, and I believe you will find a surprise underneath."
Faramir grinned and unlaced her dress. Indeed, underneath he found a shirt and, as she pulled the garment off, a pair of breeches made their appearance.
"My lady," he smiled, "You ARE full of surprises today!"
"And more are coming," she said impishly. From the saddle she pulled a sheathed sword, and, just as the sun came up, she drew it forth and swept it through the air. "Kshdagnir," she smiled.
"Evil's bane?" Faramir asked.
Eowyn nodded. "It was my father's sword."
Faramir smiled softly and drew his own sword forth. "Agarmaile," he whispered. "How unfitting for me."
Eowyn wrinkled her brow for a minute and then said slowly, "Blood lust?"
Faramir nodded. "My father named it when he presented it to me. He said,
Ten amin erkevilte utinu. Ta anta lle astaid--lle maure ta. Inye esse ta Agarmaile!
(For my spineless son. May it give you courage--you need it. I name it Blood lust!)"
Eowyn translated this for a minute, and then cried, "Oh Faramir! That's terrible!"
Faramir chuckled softly. "It was not so bad, my love. Anyway, shall we get started?" He pulled off his cloak and began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.
Eowyn smiled and sliced the air with her sword neatly, then stood opposite him, digging her toes into the earth in anticipation. Her arms tingled; her fingers felt light and electric with the challenge presented to her.
Faramir fought off the feelings of fear. The last time he had fought a one-on-one duel with anyone was...long ago. It had been with his brother, Boromir, and Denethor had watched. But there was no reason he should be afraid now. He would not be humiliated if his wife beat him, as she was renowned throughout the kingdoms as a hero. And there would be no berating from his father. That was over now. But still, he was filled with dread.
As Eowyn took the first sweep, a bird broke into song with a shrill chirp. Faramir matched her swing and blocked, working on paying attention to the duel. Eowyn smiled as she fought, breathing deeply of the air and enjoying the singing weight of the deadly weapon in her hands. This was when everything was right. This was how it was supposed to be---two locked in combat, knowing every trick except for the deadly one that disarmed you and left you at the other's mercy.
Suddenly, Eowyn's vision blurred, and she felt everything go black. The trees disappeared, the birds ceased their chirping. It all happened so quickly, but before she knew it she was thrown headlong into another time and place.
It was a red day. It had been long and hard from the beginning, with no hope in the first place. The smoke rising from the city did not make it any pleasanter, either. But the one thing that Eowyn knew was the most wrong was the feeling inside of her. She had not felt this way in years.
She wanted to die.
It was consuming her, burning her with a passion and making her forsake her duty. She wanted to kill them, kill them all! Those who murdered her kin, who had been killing her inside but never outside. Well, now was their chance. She was waiting for them, waiting to feel the blissful pain of a spear or arrow run her through. Waiting to feel the agony of a blade slicing deep into her, spilling her blood onto the ground.
Once she had been happy. It was long ago, but she could remember it. That had been before her parents died, before her cousin died, before she had died. Yes, she was dead, on the inside at least. And soon, oh so soon! she would be dead for real. There was no going back now.
Then it all happened. So quick it was, she hardly knew what was happening, but her uncle---the only one who truly cared for her---was thrown to the ground and crushed under his horse. Every particle of her being cried out NO! It was not supposed to be him who died! It was she who longed for an end.
And then she saw him.
The shape of the Ring-wraith, the Nazgul, the Witch-King---the one who had killed her Uncle! Revenge boiled up in her veins, her blood heated to an unbelievable level.
"Eowyn!"
With a fierce shout she sprang forward, brandishing her sword and leaping between her uncle and the...thing.
"Eowyn!"
It did not matter what happened to her now. She longer for death, and death she would find. And she would slay this monster.
"Eowyn, please!"
She struck out with her sword, feeling it slice into something warm and alive. With a triumphant laugh, she raised the sword again to finish him off...
"Eowyn, my love...come back..."
The vision began to fade, and no longer was she seeing the terrifying shape of the Nazgul leering over her. She was staring into the face of...
Faramir.
A/N:Ooh...cliffhanger! As soon as I get a sufficient amount of reviews, I'll post the next chapter. Ta!