Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, and that sometimes makes me sad, but I can still play with them to my heart's content....much better than Barbie and Ken.....
A/N: I hope you'll be lenient with me for certain changes that I've made with certain characters that shall reveal themselves in time. This story bit me hard when I was dealing with real life, and Faramir demanded that it get written. Who am I to argue with the Prince of Ithilien?
PS...I edited this on August 21 to add lines to make it a little easier to understand...thanks to shie1dmaidenofrohan for alerting me to this problem!! :)
Éowyn and I were at last married, and I had never been more filled with joy in my entire life. My sleepy wife gazed up at me blissfully as I dressed in warm, nondescript clothing, preparing to go out to oversee the proper loading of our packhorse. "Shall you be long, my love?" I asked her, taking in her pale beauty with my eyes once more as she yet languished in our marriage bed.
"Nay, husband," she grinned, obviously savoring the word upon her tongue as she stretched slowly and invitingly beneath the covers.
"Temptress," I muttered, bending to kiss her honeyed lips once more. "Never have I seen anyone or anything more lovely than you, my dear. I am the luckiest man in the world."
"Then I must be the luckiest woman," she smiled before she gently pushed me away, sitting up, letting the blankets slip from her bare body.
"Éowyn," I groaned, "we shall never depart the city if you continue with this wanton behavior."
"I have no argument with that!" she giggled.
I only half-feigned disappointment. "Do you not wish to view the sea then, my wife?"
"I do, I do," she scolded softly, smiling as she rose from the bed, snatching her white dressing gown from the floor and donning it quickly before putting on her slippers. When she noticed that I was staring at her, she grinned and said, "Run along. I shall be ready shortly, Faramir."
I reluctantly obeyed her dismissal, abandoning the warm halls of the steward's residence to stroll through the chill air of mid-Súlimë toward the stables where our horses were being made ready for us. There was not much for me to do as the stable master had already seen to Seregon's lading, and Windfola and Simbelmynë had been properly furnished as well. But it was only a short time until Éowyn arrived, dressed in some of my clothing, having adjusted it somehow to fit her slighter frame. At the sight of her wearing my trousers, I felt a wave of fierce possessiveness fill me, and I thought that there would be naught more pleasing than to lay her down in the straw inside one of the many stalls and remove them. Alas, my upbringing would not allow me to ravish my wife in a public stable, so I had to settle for using my imagination. It was of no import at any rate. Éowyn was now mine, and I belonged to her as well, both in body and in spirit.
"My brave shieldmaiden," I murmured, spying her blade sheathed upon the belt at her waist.
She cast her long, shining braid over her shoulder before tying closed her long, fur-lined cloak at her delicate throat, as she approached me, grinning. "My gentle, sweet, brave warrior prince," she replied, obviously having no idea about what I was thinking at the time, before she pulled me in for a kiss that left my knees weak. "How I love you, husband!" Without another word, she leapt upon Windfola's back and patiently awaited me to mount Simbelmynë.
When I was safely atop my stallion, we set upon our long journey to Dol Amroth from the White City of Gondor, looking toward our long honeymoon with great anticipation.
Riding at a slow trot, there was time enough to look over the landscape as we proceeded southward toward Pelargir. Though the trees had not yet begun to leaf for the coming spring, the edge of the distant forest upon our left was starkly lovely against the clear blue sky, made even more so by my handsome husband's continuing commentary about his newly-granted princedom of Ithilien. It was apparent that Faramir was deeply bound to the land where he had fought for so many years, fighting valiantly to spare its wild beauty from destruction by the dark forces of Mordor. Now that the shadow had been lifted from the land, my husband was enthusiastic about building our house in the heart of Ithilien at Emyn Arnen and living the rest of his days surrounded by the trees where he had always felt most at home. Happiness filled me as I listened to his speech, overjoyed that he had at last found some measure of peace after all of the horrific events that had befallen him during the War.
On the opposite side of the road lay the plains of Lebennin, which spread to the west as far as I could see. We would skirt the whole of Lebennin upon the road to Belfalas, and I was glad for my husband's presence as there was something about the frosty fields that made me uneasy. It was not fear, but instead an ominous feeling as if we were not alone here. Of course we passed several people upon the road: farmers in wagons on their way to the city to buy supplies, merchants delivering goods to Minas Tirith, soldiers moving between cities. But to me it seemed that there was something else hidden in the barrenness of the late-winter landscape, and I did my best not to draw any undue attention to myself or to my new husband.
But it seemed that our recent wedding had brought out all of Faramir's sociable qualities as he greeted every person that we passed with a broad smile and a warm hello. My husband was not an unfriendly man normally, but oft he tended toward grimness and would sometimes limit his greeting to a quick nod amongst people that he did not know. Today it seemed that he simply could not quell his overflowing happiness, nor did I wish him to, but I was significantly less warm in my manner than Faramir was.
"What ails you, my love?" he finally asked me, noticing that I was keeping nearly silent this day.
"Naught, Faramir. I am simply listening to your voice, glad that I shall be able to hear it everyday from now on."
Though he smiled at my comment, he said, "Nay, Éowyn, you are much too quiet. Perhaps we should have waited another day or two before we departed Minas Tirith?"
"Nay, my lord, I would not wait any longer to visit Dol Amroth, though I must admit that yesterday's events were exhausting!"
"Indeed! As were yesternight's," he added in a softer tone.
I blushed furiously, and he reached his fingers forth, caressing my cheek. "I cannot believe my good fortune to have captured the heart of such a beautiful, strong woman. I yet wonder if I shall wake and find myself back in the midst of the battle for Osgiliath."
I looked at him sharply, capturing his fingers in mine. "Husband, say not such things. Your time of toil at Osgiliath is passed, the shadow is removed from the land, the king is returned to Gondor, and we are wed now. This is no dream," I added, squeezing his hand tightly to emphasize my words. "Both of us began our lives anew yesterday, and now is the time to create new memories, happier memories than what came before."
"You are right, of course," he murmured, his eyes sparkling with unadulterated joy. He leaned over in the saddle and kissed me upon the cheek. "I am glad to have the opportunity to make new, happy memories with my lovely bride."
"We have been married for only one day," I mused as I pushed a lock of his dark hair from his face, "and already I have been amazed by you more times than I can count."
He chuckled. "May your amazement never abate, my lady, for we have been married for only one day, and my happiness has easily increased tenfold simply by observing your wonder."
As we rode further upon the road in comfortable silence, my previous unease was quelled as I finally relaxed in my husband's company, taking joy in being Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien and even more important, the wife of Faramir.