Éowyn hated the White Tower. Inside, she felt trapped, caged. It had been built for protection, true; but its aloofness from the rest of the City bothered her. At Edoras, only a few steps from the Golden Hall brought her to cottages and people- and life. In Minas Tirith, she had to pass between gates and guards before even reaching the outside world.
And even then, she felt cut off and isolated. She was the Queen of Gondor. She was always treated with extreme honor and respect, but she had never found a friend. Someone she could speak with truthfully, someone who bypassed courtesies and formalities, and only offered closeness. She had found such a person once, but-
She rejected such ideas, and turned towards the window. The sun shone high above her, warming rays that refreshed her body but not her heart. It glowed a vibrant gold in the pale blueness of the sky, and the City glinted pure white in its beams. Minas Tirith had been originally named Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun; and she saw the Númenoreans' inspiration in the City's afternoon splendor.
Sounds wafted up to her from below: trumpets, cries, millions of noisy feet. And two very familiar voices.
"Pip! What are you doing?"
"Picking Éowyn a bouquet."
"That's very thoughtful and all, but should you really yank scarlet blossoms out of someone else's pot?"
"Oh. Probably not. How could I survive without you, Merry?"
"You wouldn't. You would've been eaten by orcs or stomped by ents or something."
"How pleasant. What a loving friend."
"I do my best."
Smiling in spite of herself, Éowyn left the hall, opened the door, and ran down the stairs to greet them. "Master Holdwine and Thain Peregrin!"
Pippin blushed. "Oh, Your Highness, how could we come to this noble City and not pay you a visit?" He offered her his stolen flowers, bowing rather gracefully.
Merry sighed. "Queen Éowyn, may I inquire into the health of your children?"
"They are quite well," she said, sniffing the spray carefully. "Thain Peregrin, where did you acquire such beautiful blooms? These are carandols. Surely they do not flourish in the land of the Halflings."
He grimaced. "You are correct, milady. I picked them for you by the shores of the Anduin."
"He's lying," Merry interjected. "He pinched them from a vacant house."
"What a wonderful friend."
Éowyn's smile spread to her eyes, and she motioned towards the younger hobbit. "They are certainly lovely. Would you please enter? I am sure you would prefer to speak indoors rather than remain standing in the daytime heat."
She led them up the steps, and they filed silently around Míriel's cradle. "She's precious," Merry whispered. "So little, and yet so fair."
The infant was fast asleep, her head covered by soft blonde down and her thick lashes brushing against rosy cheeks. But when awake, those small lids opened to reveal clear blue eyes- the same shade as her great-uncle Théoden's had been. When she had been born near the shores of Nenuial, Aragorn had named her Míriel- "Jewel-star"- for her curious eyes that gleamed like the light of Eärendil. In her heart, Éowyn had given her daughter a name in her native tongue- Leohta, or light.
But unlike Anardil, tiny Míriel would grow up without any memories of her father. She would never know the man who christened her and quieted her screams in the stillness of the night. She would hear stories and gain an incomplete image of King Elessar Telcontar, but never truly understand him. It was an upsetting realization, that her daughter would never appreciate one who had truly loved her.
For Aragorn had fostered an affection for his children that Éowyn believed was stronger than the feelings he had felt towards his wife. He had instructed Anardil in the ways of the Dunédain, and cared for newborn Míriel with attentiveness and tenderness. His offspring had given him hope- that the Fourth Age would pass in peace and prosperity, without the bleakness of the Shadow's curse. By nurturing them and helping them grow, he was setting them on the path towards a bright future and a clear dawn.
"Merry and I have a plan-" Pippin began, hesitantly.
She looked up from her musings. "Yes?"
"Well, to ensure that our families always stay together. Can't have the Tooks and Brandybucks splitting apart, now. So I was thinking that my son Faramir should marry little Éowyn Brandybuck. When they're old enough, of course."
A strange thought jolted through her, and she eyed the hobbits keenly. "Any other reasons why?"
"I was just thinking. . .um. . ." Merry mumbled. "When you think about it. . .they sound so nice together!"
"What?"
"Their names. Faramir and Éowyn. I think they have a nice ring, don't you think so, Pip?"
"Oh yes. Perfection."
Éowyn rose to her full height, and glared at them imperiously. "I thank you for your kind intentions, but I must be retiring. If you will excuse me?"
Pippin frowned. "But it's not even supper yet! Sunset isn't for several hours. Perhaps-"
"I have gently asked you to leave. Now I am afraid I must order you. Master Holdwine and Thain Peregrin, this conversation has ended. I have things I must deal with. Good day."
She watched the very troubled pair exit, and hurried away to her chambers. Throwing off her veil, she raised her hands to her face to stop the torrent of tears, but they still came. She stopped before her window, sinking to her knees, and let her self-control crumble as the drops trickled down her cheeks, stinging and burning as they fell. The sun still shone outside, but she did not notice it. The only thing she paid heed to was her emotions; she felt as though her heart was close to breaking. She wished she were dead.
She could never remarry. She could not dare to imagine experiencing this torment again.
She remained kneeling as light disappeared below the horizon and the twinkling stars of twilight appeared. Their cold glow mocked her and seemed to taunt her with all she had lost. Night succeeded day, with memories she could never forget.
Memories she did not want to lose.
The City was shrouded in the silence and splendor of twilight. Éowyn heard his footsteps approaching, but did not turn- ever gazing out over the quietness of a slumbering kingdom. The soft shuffle of his boots slowed, then seemed to pause, and she lifted her head to see him leaning against the wall, his eyes lacking their usual intensity. She sighed.
"It seems entirely different, covered in blackness."
"Yes. Only in the light of Anor is its beauty revealed. Forgive me if I speak hastily, but-"
"Please, not now."
His face was illuminated in the moonshine, and she examined it carefully, almost affectionately. Faramir had an air about him that she almost could not describe- nobility, mixed with some alluring mystery. He had the bearing of a king, but unlike the warriors of Rohan he did not delight in the spoils of war. He was not lacking in courage or honor, and yet he was learned; this combination of soldier and scholar, hero and healer, confused her at times. Set apart from the men of Gondor and her own land- but that was not what frightened her.
She was scared of her heart. She still felt herself drawn to this man, despite her excuses and illogical reasoning. As she watched him intently, his dark hair glinting in gloaming's dim glow, she felt content just standing in his presence. But those acute grey eyes must not discover her uncertainty. She brought her attention back to the tiny rooftops and began to speak.
"King Elessar's coronation went well."
"People came from as far as Belfalas to observe the ceremony. They all love him."
"As they should. Is he not their ruler, their lord? A true King reigns not because he has gained control by force of arms, but because his subjects adore him."
He shifted towards her. "But adoration has several different meanings. It is the respect a young man feels for his captain, or a servant feels for his lord. But it is also greater. A feeling that leads to union and completeness. Éowyn, do you not love me, or will you not?"
"I wish to be loved by another."
"But that is not what you feel for him. Are my words true?"
"I know his heart does not belong to me. The one who holds his esteem is now walking in the lands of her kindred." She felt him move closer, but did not look up at him. She could not bear the scrutiny of those eyes. "I have always desired renown. An existence grander than that set before me. A life with King Elessar would give me such glory. It is a marriage of convenience; nothing more."
She glanced at him again, and was surprised by the change in his expression. Something raged beneath his surface, a barely controlled flame of emotion. Anger? His lips pressed into a thin line, he seemed to be fighting an internal battle against himself. "Such words are folly."
"It is my only chance to fulfill my fantasies!"
"Castles in the air. Wishes that will dissolve as quickly as the mist on a summer day. Éowyn, you cannot take on Arwen's role any more than the Sun and Moon can exchange places in the heavens. The gods have set forth our doom. Any attempts to alter our destiny will only result in bitter troubles. Some things were meant to be."
"It is not my fate to remain in a simple town when a position of power has been set before me. I will not rot and decay in a fading realm, set behind bars like a treasure on display."
His whisper was almost inaudible, and she strained to hear it. "You will be forever remembered for your stand on Pelennor Fields, by Rohan and Gondor alike. Obscurity will never take hold of you. But despair may, if you do not follow your heart."
She frowned. "What does it matter? I would rather allow my deeds to be preserved in history than let myself be diminished for any man's sake."
He did not reply. She twisted around, trying to gain a view of his face, and she caught a glimpse of his eyes. They shone softly, and yet that keenness still remained, insight that understood her soul better than she knew herself. They radiated concern, even protectiveness. She could not turn away, only continue staring into those pale depths. "I do not want your pity."
He took her face in his hands and smiled faintly. "I know. But that is not all I offer you."
Faramir bent down and kissed her. Éowyn's cheeks flushed and her mind reeled, but she could not break away. Some part of her was pleased by his audacity; with his lips pressed against hers, her thoughts ran together into incomprehensibility and she made no effort to move out of his embrace. She was so disorientated, and yet strangely blissful. Her heart pounded in her ears, her throat burned, her lungs felt empty- he pulled back and she staggered a few steps away, blinking dazedly.
She attempted to gather the pieces of her shattered senses and fit them back together, struggling against emotions that threatened to take hold of her. "I.I cannot hide behind deceit. I do love you. But.but I will not be dissuaded. I want glory and fame more than anything else; I want to be Queen. I am sorry.I must leave."
She hurried away, not daring to look back. She could not bear his disappointment and pain. She could barely handle her own.
tbc