In the days and weeks that followed, with autumn settling firmly in, Faramir made very good healing progress and before long he was going about his duties as cheerfully as ever. By the time of the traditional end of harvest feast, the Steward was back to full capacity. Though from time to time he would still wake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat over a disturbing dream, or to a stabbing pain in his left forearm if his muscles had locked in the night, he was otherwise every bit the young, healthful, and sturdy of mind and body gentleman that he had once been. And now that he had the added advantage of a real father, the world could not get any more beautiful in Faramir's opinion.

As autumn's gracious touch gave brilliant color to the Gondorian landscape, Faramir and Aragorn watched as Minas Tirith was rebuilt better than it was when Elendil's sons ruled the South Kingdom. The work had been completed in just enough time for the Harvest Festival to commence, and Minas Tirith again gave welcome to many outsiders. Éomer had departed Gondor not long after making his most solemn apologies to both Aragorn and Faramir, not to mention Imrahil, who he had been eager to impress. Lothíriel accompanied him back to Edoras, where they planned to announce their betrothal, Imrahil following very closely. They intended to return in time to visit when their newest kin would arrive.

It was with great happiness that Aragorn welcomed Legolas and Gimli back to his city, the Dwarf entirely amazed with the work his kin had completed in the City, though Legolas still believed that trees were too few and suggested that Aragorn send for saplings to be brought and planted in the spring.

Aragorn was finally truly feeling able to sit back and relax and enjoy the festivities. Everything was getting back to usual. He and his son had, between them, brokered peace with former enemies, reclaimed lands long since thought of as lost, and seen the pride of Gondor restored.

Faramir, however joyful he was at the fact that he'd had a hand in helping get his country back to right, did little to relax. When he wasn't sitting up late in his study, even when it was just rereading his favorite old tales, he was usually found laying in his bed wondering what fatherhood was like.

Farther along in another chamber which faced west, his wife lay in her bed wondering how her life would change with motherhood. The issue was fastly becoming a reality to be considered. If the Mistress of Magic, as Faramir had titled Galadhriel, had been correct, Éowyn had two months longer to bear her children as winter began to curl in with morning frosts lasting longer through the day.

One late evening after supper when Faramir had retreated to his sanctum, Éowyn knocked softly, having but a little energy left after the walk from the dining hall to the Steward's study. Faramir lifted his eyes, slowly taking them from the words that pulled for his attention. "Éowyn. Please come and sit, you should not exert yourself so," he said in care.

"I do not wish to sit," she said seriously. "Faramir, please come to bed." Her tone was a soft one, such as she had rarely used. Perhaps motherhood was already setting in, she wondered within herself.

To Faramir's ears it sounded like an invitation he should not accept. Certainly not for a while yet. Then again, he thought, maybe she just meant that she was concerned about his sleeping habits of late. His father certainly was and had gone so far as to threaten that Glorfindel still had a little enchanted water left in his supply. Faramir simply shook his head, reminding his wife that it was she who now needed the sleep far more than he did.

"Faramir, i still do not understand," she said, sounding much more like herself. "We have been married since summer, it has been months now. Why are our chambers still on opposite sides of the palace?"

Faramir looked a little confused, but he was getting very used to the moods Éowyn was going through. He briefly considered something Celeborn had said to him about living in a tree in Mirkwood, but he took her question as gently as humanly possible. "What do you mean, Éowyn?" he asked softly.

Apparently not softly enough.

Éowyn flew into a rage. "Why do you still avoid me?" she demanded. "Why do we retire to separate places instead of to our own chamber?"

At this Faramir only grew more confused and much more afraid. When his wife was in a mood like this, he had to move very carefully or risk becoming a target for whatever nearby object was able to be lobbed his way. "I do not avoid you, i simply try to give you as much freedom as you have always had," he said, not terribly lying, though in truth he had been rather avoiding her ever since her moods began to run wild. "Éowyn, meleth, what do you mean our own chamber?" he asked inoffensively.

"What do i mean?!" she practically shouted. "I mean a chamber that you and i share. A bed that you and i sleep in at night."

Faramir did understand this now, and had to choose his words very carefully indeed. "Éowyn, it is not the way of Gondorian husbands and wives to keep the same bedchambers. Naturally, those who have not the housing for such do not, but those of us in the city, particularly in the Citadel -"

Éowyn cut him off before he could go any further into his explanation. "So you mean to say that you believe it coarse to do so? You think that the people of Rohan, who have always shared all as husband and wife, no matter their rank, are but uncouth and uncivilized? Just because you are so decorous, with your 'noble bloodlines' and never saying what you really mean. So self-composed are you that you never show your emotions and keep people guessing just what it is you feel for them!" she shouted at him before turning and rushing off with more agility than it looked like she had in her condition.

Faramir sighed, leaning back in his place. He had been surprised by her outburst, but he had no idea why. Moments later another knock was heard from the door that Éowyn had slammed shut on her way out. Faramir tiredly called for the guest to come in.

"Do not look so downcast, ion-nín," Aragorn said with an encouraging smile, upon entering. "I have yet to meet the Elf who could tread lightly enough around the questions of a very pregnant woman."

For several hours the two men stayed up talking. Faramir flinched when yet another knock was heard, fearing that his wife had thought of something else she disagreed with Gondorian society about. Aragorn took note and answered it himself to find his own wife there, looking upset.

"What troubles you, meleth?" he asked reaching out for her.

"Is Éowyn not here either?" she said in a distracted tone, as she started to turn to look elsewhere.

Aragorn would not let go of her though. "What do you mean, Arwen? Is there trouble?"

"I can not find her anywhere, Estel. I thought i saw her going out from the Citadel, but thought surely not at this hour. Yet i can find her not."

Faramir drew in a sharp breath in panic, realizing that Arwen probably had seen her leaving after their argument. Pushing past his father he rushed forth from the Citadel toward the stables. He swore violently when he saw neither his wife nor his wife's horse there. He jumped on the nearest charger without bothering to tack it up and raced out of Minas Tirith.

ooo

So begins the beginning of the end. This chapter and two more, one will be up Thursday morning, the other Thursday evening, are the end of this story. I have all three written... i just thought i would space them out for a bit of suspense :)