Chapter 8

When I later came to check on Faramir (for I was bursting with curiosity about his meeting with Éowyn), he had another visitor. That appeared to be Merry, Éowyn's squire and friend, who chatted animatedly with the new Steward. The table was laid for the two of them, and they were obviously taking great pleasure in the food, at least Merry was. For once, my cousin did not seem very glad to see me.

"Thíri…" he said, looking a bit abashed. "I… I thought you were busy elsewhere…"

"What?" I exclaimed. "You know I always come in the evening!"

"Yes, cousin, but… it is early for your usual visit, late afternoon rather than evening, and you can see I have company tonight. You are always so weary when you come. I am certain Master Merry does not mind sharing this late lunch with me."

The Halfling looked ready to share anything, provided there was food involved. In fact, he looked remarkably well: cheeks of a healthy pink hue, glossy brown curls, sparkling eyes. He still moved his right hand a bit awkwardly, but that was clearly no obstacle in his way to earthly pleasures. These little folks were already famed for the amount of food they could consume. I did not mind that in the least; here at the Houses I had already learned that if a sick person regains appetite, that means the turn for the better.

And Merry was a dear. He was a great cook, too, and gave us a hand in the kitchens as often as he could, providing wonderful recipes of his land. The secret behind them was still a secret: until now I wonder how he could take the plainest ingredients and transform them into a masterpiece. He helped me greatly with the smallest ones who would not eat, by presenting their meals in the shape of animals or flowers or mountains and turning a mealtime into a most exciting game.

Tonight, though, it was male company they both wished for.

"Fine," I sighed. "A good night to you both, then."

I had my hand on the doorknob, when suddenly the curiosity swelled in me anew. I wanted to know what had happened between them!

I turned on my heels resolutely and headed for Éowyn's room.

The room turned out to be empty. The bed looked untouched, the curtains were closed, and Éowyn hated them so. I stood in the middle, confused.

"Lothíriel?" someone called from the hallway.

I turned abruptly to see there one of the nursemaids.

"If you are looking for the Lady Éowyn, she has been moved to another chamber," the girl continued.

"Why? Did her condition worsen?"

"How should I know?" she shrugged. "That was an order from the Warden. She is now at the other side of the building. Would you like me to show you there?"

"Yes, please," I murmured, quite baffled by all this.

I found Éowyn on the bed, still dressed. Her face was buried in the pillow, and her shoulders were shaking.

"Éowyn!" I rushed to her, then forced her to look at me.

Her eyes were red; it looked like she had been weeping for quite long. She took a gulping breath and pressed close to me.

"Hush, dear, it is all right. Will you tell me what happened?"

She took a few more deep breaths, composing herself, then pushed herself up on the bed, wincing from the pain in her broken arm. Her hair was clinging to her flushed wet cheeks, and I smoothed it back.

"See?" she said bitterly, waving her hand around the room. "Now I have a room facing east. How thoughtful. How damn thoughtful!" She banged her fist against the wall.

I caught her hand. "There, Éowyn, you do not want to break another bone, do you? What on earth happened? What did Faramir do?"

She grabbed the pillow and hurled it across the room. "Your dear cousin was all smiles and compliments. He first said he was not yet any authority in the City, and even if he were, he would not let me out of here, as the healers know better. He said that the host was long gone and I could not dream about catching up with them…"

"What!" I gasped. "Éowyn, you…you wanted to leave with the host? Are you mad? Do you want to die?"

She looked at me defiantly. "What if I did?" she demanded.

"Nothing," I shook my head, feeling my temper rise. "Only sometimes I think life is most unjust. My father and brothers do not want to lose their lives, and yet they are riding to their doom, and you… you have been spared, and instead of being grateful for that, you wish yourself dead."

I stood up and went to the open window, desperately struggling to hold back tears. I could not explain even to myself why her words made me so distraught.

She approached me from behind and wrapped her arm around my shoulders.

"Forgive me, Thíri. You are right, I behave…" she shook her head sorrowfully. "It is just that he made me so angry… His words were full of reason, and he was so calm, so gentle, I felt a mere girl, and then I blurted out something about my window not facing east…"

I suddenly felt a great urge to laugh. "So he ordered that you should get a new room?"

"Yes. What?" she demanded angrily as I started to giggle.

"Nothing… Oh, Éowyn, I imagine how mad you were at him… A valiant warrior with a broken arm, clad in a white dress, asking for death in battle… and getting a new room instead…"

She looked at me, white with rage, and then suddenly burst out laughing too, and soon we had to lean on each other for support.

"Oh, Thíri," she groaned when we were totally exhausted, "you do make it all sound so funny. But I was serious. I cannot stay here anymore. It makes me think of…" she checked herself, then went on, "think too much."

"Think of who, Éowyn?"

She blushed.

"Is… is it a man?" I ventured.

She slowly turned around and went to sit on the bed.

"Yes," she whispered, "it is a man."

"Tell me," I said, sitting down next to her and taking her hand.

She sighed. "There is not much to tell. The story is pretty plain: I saw him and loved him immediately, with all my heart, and first thought he would notice… but he did not, or pretended that he did not, and then…"

She hung her head, as if in shame.

When she found her voice again, it was very weak. "'Your duty is with your people,' he said to me when I begged him to let me follow him. And…and he said there was a place where his heart dwelt… and I knew that he meant a beloved lady, and I had no hope. So I rode with the king, disguised as a Rider."

She looked at me and laughed bitterly. "A dull story, is it not? I was so foolish. And I did not think of my duty much. I left those placed in my charge, to pursue death, because of unrequited love. Would you not see it as treason, Thíri?"

"Probably," I whispered, hugging her close. "Then I will be a traitor's friend. I am no ruler, nor a law-maker. Who am I to judge you, Éowyn… I fled my home too, in a way; I forced my father to bring me here. But I think it has done me heaps of good. I happen to like myself better now, and I am a lot more at peace."

"This is because you are doing something," she objected. "You seem to always be busy with that thing or another, and you help people a lot… Well," she added, "maybe I should consider your cousin's offer."

"What offer?"

To my intense surprise, she blushed. "He…he invited me to take a walk with him now and then… in the gardens. He said that I was…" she was deep red by now, "that I was beautiful."

I gaped at her, then murmured, "That does not sound like Faramir at all. He has never been a ladies man!"

She caught my arm and said fiercely, "You say he is a good man, Thíri. I… I could see that he had known a lot of grief… is still grieving, perhaps. I do not want to lead him to believe that I could bring him any consolation. He is on his way to healing… I would not dream of altering that. I am a bad companion to him. If he starts courting me, feeling something towards me, I shall not be able to return those feelings."

She looked and sounded feverish to me. I gently made her lie down and pulled the covers up to her chin.

"I think you are looking to far ahead, Éowyn," I said. "What if Faramir was just…polite and did not mean anything romantic? Besides, I do not know much about his love life. There might be a lady in the City waiting for his return! You need not bother with all this too much. And now, I want you to stay in bed. You are overexcited and tired. I shall bring you some brew to help you sleep."

For once, she did not protest.

"It will soon be a month since Boromir was slain," Faramir said.

When I finally got to his room, he appeared very sad. I wanted to make him talk about it, but he shook his head silently and went to stand by the window, his back to me.

I quietly settled into a chair and occupied myself with sewing; I had some bedclothes to mend.

Gradually, it became colder.

"Faramir, do close that window, please. I do not want you to catch cold," I said.

He did not move.

"Faramir?"

I saw his hand travel up to his face and stay there; the other gripped the windowsill so that the knuckles turned white.

Alarmed, I got to my feet and stepped to him.

"Faramir, what is wrong?"

He tried to hide, to turn away, but I grabbed his arm and made him face me.

Tears were streaming down his face, through the fingers pressed to it, and the pain in his eyes nearly made me scream. Instead, I collected my wits and pushed him towards his chair; then, I snatched a coverlet from the bed and wrapped it around his frame, at the same time encircling him with my arms. He was shaking badly, gasping for breath, and I noticed with alarm that his fingers were cold as ice. I enclosed them between my own hands, then started rubbing them gently.

When the shaking was not so violent, I left him for a moment, to catch another nursemaid and ask her to fetch a mug of hot brew; I myself was unwilling to leave him alone.

I helped him hold the steaming mug and saw that he drank it all.

"Will you go to bed now?" I coaxed. "You can tell me all about it in the morning."

"Come here," he whispered, holding out his hand. I did as he wished, seating myself on a broad armrest and drawing his head to rest against my shoulder.

"You smell so nice," he murmured, producing a weak smile.

"Of chicken broth, perhaps," I sneered.

He chuckled softly, making my heart tighten painfully in my chest. How hard it was, being the same cheerful Thíri, and weeping inside for him, for all he had to endure. I felt that my little jests and pranks made him feel if a little better. I had learned by this time that baring his soul to anyone was very difficult for him, and, should this happen, later he would feel ashamed of any display of emotion; therefore, I had my own strategy of dealing with that.

Now, though, he seemed quite willing to share with me.

"I had a bad dream, Thíri," he said softly. "Merry told me about Boromir… you know, he died defending him and Pippin; poor Pippin could not bring himself to tell me all about it. Then I came back here and decided to lie down, I had a headache… and then I dreamed of Boromir, of how he was slain."

He shuddered and pressed closer.

"It was all so vivid, as if I had been there and seen it all happen. I awoke in cold sweat and could not stay in bed any longer, so when you came, I was there, by the window, and…and…" his voice quivered, and he could say no more.

However, after a while had passed, he spoke again.

"I was thinking, Thíri, of how many of us were affected by that cursed war. Can you see those papers over there?" he pointed to the small desk brought in for his use. "Yes, I am down to work. I have to study my duties well; I was never prepared for this, I mean, being the Steward. No, no," he forestalled my indignant hiss, "I do it little by little, just to make it easier for me when I take the position formally… though I suspect that will be but for a short while, before the King returns."

Or before the Darkness takes us all, I added in my thoughts. We never allowed ourselves to admit otherwise, but the thought gnawed at our minds at all times.

"So many were left without a roof over their heads, without their families… without hope. The number of the homeless is appalling, Thíri. Thank goodness, the citizens themselves try to lodge those who do not have a place to stay. You seem to know something of orphaned children?"

"Only those in our care," I said. "Many families are willing to adopt some of them."

"Good," he sighed.

After another silence, he said, "I talked to the Lady Éowyn. She is remarkable…and so sad. Merry told me a lot about her, most of which he himself does not understand to the end. I would not see her lost in despair… so many have already been lost…"

I knew that his brother was the first in his mind when he spoke these words. Before I could say a word, he continued, "I want to see this land prosper again. I am willing to put my life to it. Mere days ago, I wanted to die for it. Now, I wish to live and help rebuild it. But I cannot go on alone… I have done so far too long… Even when Boromir was alive, and Father, I was alone, all the time, and now I am weary of that."

"Now you have me, at least, sometimes even more than needed," I grumbled, drawing a weak smile from him. "And when Aragorn comes back, he will surely want you by his side," I said. "I understand he respects you and would value your counsels."

"When, Thíri? Not if?"

"Of course he will return," I said fiercely. "I know it. Call me foolish, but it will be so."

He sighed. "I do hope so. I still have to ask him about Boromir's last moments. Aragorn was with him when he…passed away."

He turned away, struggling to master fresh tears. That proved to be a difficult task, and he finally succumbed to his grief, burying his face in his hands.

But this time there was nothing hysterical in his weeping, just quiet tears over the death of a beloved brother. Occasionally, he would whisper something into his hands, as if talking to one beyond the circles of this world.

"Come, lie down," I said after a while. "You need your sleep."

He looked at me with tortured eyes, full of tears.

"I am afraid to sleep, Thíri," he confessed miserably. "What if I see that dream again?"

"You will not," I said firmly. "Did you not tell me that in your last vision of Boromir he was peaceful as he never had been in life?"

He nodded, tears spilling again, but this time his trembling lips curled up a little. "Yes. He was almost smiling. As if he was seeing a pleasant dream."

"Picture him in your mind like this, then," I said. "Just think of the quiet water, which was carrying him so gently, so caringly…"

He finally let me help him to bed. I suddenly thought he looked like a child, so lost and scared... I had forgotten he was not yet back to his health, and the ordeals he had had to endure were enough to crush a weaker man completely. Yet even the strong sometimes need a friendly hand.

"Thíri," he called pleadingly, "will you stay with me a little?"

"I will stay until you sleep."

A minute later, I had another idea.

"Faramir?"

"Yes?"

"You can also think of Éowyn. She will surely banish all Orcs from your mind."

He gave me a genuine smile this time. "Certainly so! I do feel guilty, because of thinking her ugly. More than guilty. She is the loveliest lady I have met. You know, she promised to come to the gardens, to walk with me."

I snorted; Éowyn mentioned nothing of the kind to me.

Men…

TBC

That is not so exciting, is it? Wait, the next one will be a real trial for all of them...

Thanks for reviewing, Linda! My cold seems to be giving up, after all.