Chapter 12

As two more days passed, I became increasingly worried about Éowyn.

She was very quiet; in fact, she hardly spoke to anyone. I tried to spend more time with her, but my attempts at conversation were broken by the impenetrable wall that she had built around herself. She answered me, but her replies came as if from afar; her eyes seemed to looks though me, not really heeding me. The colour that she had gained during her stay in the Houses was now gone, and she once again was as pale as the day I had met her for the first time.

She ate well, but to me it seemed she did not even know what the food was. I brought the food to her, and she would eat it obediently, but only succeeded in making me want her to scream and hurl the bowls across the room. Then she said 'thank you' in a bleak, expressionless voice, and turn to the window; then she put on the cloak Faramir had given her and went outside. At other times, she would just sit stroking the soft cloth or pressing it to her cheek.

My heart ached for her, and I was most angry with Faramir, for not coming and doing something about it. Even the dumbest person would have been able to see what ailed Éowyn.

She spent whole hours on the walls, on the same place where I had seen her with Faramir on the day when the Dark Lord fell. Her gaze wandered to the East, where her brother was, and also he who she had believed to have her heart in his keeping… and yet, it was not so, for she barely reacted to people mentioning Aragorn's name, and tried at all times to keep the blue mantle within reach.

I tried to bring the matter up with the Warden, but he dismissed me impatiently ("Lothíriel, do you think I have no other cares than to deal with moody young ladies?"); and as for Faramir…

He came to the Houses of Healing once, checking briefly upon me. He looked worn and tired, and all I got from him was a wan smile. I did feel for him; it must have been terribly hard for him to enter his father's chambers which now by right belonged to him.

I got him to sit down and said, "Now I am going to bring something to eat, and I expect you to keep me company. Really, cousin, you seem most intent on coming back to your cosy little room. Do you think the King will like the idea of bringing you back from death's door every time he comes to Minas Tirith?"

He smiled again and allowed me to make a little fuss over him.

When we had eaten (he quite half-heartedly, only to please me, I suspected), there was a soft knock on my door.

"Letters, Lothíriel," Miri said, peeking into the room, and smiled at me warmly.

I gasped and reached for the small pack uncertainly. These were the first tangible tidings from our family.

Faramir, very pale, fidgeted with the clasp of his tunic. Of course, the mighty Eagles had not spoken of any losses, and we, being too weary of grief, chose to believe that our loved ones were safe…though nothing spoke in favour of that.

I seated myself next to at my cousin's side and slowly lowered the letters onto the bed.

There were four of them.

One for me, written in my father's sure hand; another one, in the same hand, for Faramir. There was another for him, addressed for the Steward of the City, and I guessed it was from Aragorn. There was also a letter for Éowyn, which I put aside, to give it to her later.

Faramir swallowed and whispered coarsely, "Shall I open it first, or will you?"

I sighed and reached for the one from my father. "I think I can do that, cousin."

My hands trembled so badly I nearly tore it, but I finally managed to break the seal and open the letter.

First, my vision was too blurred with icy fear; all I could see were my father's big letters, and then there were names…Elphir, Erchirion, Amrothos…

I let the piece of parchment float to the floor and sagged heavily against my cousin.

"They are coming back… all of them…" a voice like my own said. Faramir embraced me, resting his cheek on the top of my head; I felt his heavy breath on my hair.

"All of them…" he repeated, stroking my head. "Hush, Thíri, do not weep…it is all right…"

"What? But I am not…" I reached to my cheek and was surprised to find it wet; then I met his eyes, and they too were moist. He smiled at me again, and I again leaned onto him, closing my eyes.

After a while, Faramir picked up Éowyn's letter and handed it to me.

"I hate to bother you, Thíri," he said softly, "but I think she will be very happy to receive this."

I sat straight and looked him in the eye.

"I think it is you who should give it to her, Faramir."

He only shook his head sadly. "No, cousin. Do not try to make us all believe that which is not true. Take the letter to her, for my sake. I hate to think she suffers, not knowing a thing of her brother and…others."

For the first time in these long days, Éowyn's face lit up when she opened her letter. She read it hastily, just like I had done, first just to ensure that her brother was well indeed, and then again, more carefully.

When she raised her eyes on me, they were shining with joy.

"Oh, Thíri, he is all right, and the two Halflings who had been to the very heart of the Dark Lord's realm are living, too, and Aragorn, and our dear Pippin! They are all coming back! Thíri, can you believe this is possible!"

She went to the open window and caught the sash to steady herself.

"This is wonderful," she whispered, her eyes once again turned towards the East. "Éomer is asking me to come to Cormallen…"

I stood there, strangely happy, for I understood at that moment that her heart held not love for the King-to-be any longer.

She had just mentioned him, among others, not the first of them, not the last – just someone dear to her, among other friends, but there was no love in her voice, trembling with joy.

Filled with resolve, I stepped towards her. Now was the time for truth.

"Éowyn," I asked, catching her by the arm, "are you going to Cormallen?"

She eyed me, looking almost scared.

"Are you?" I insisted.

Her lips quivered, and she turned to the window again. I saw her press her cheek to the sash, closing her eyes.

"Éowyn?"

"I…I do not want to," came the answer. "I can wait for my brother here. I do not want them all to stare at me and whisper behind my back. I am tired of that awe, Thíri. Here, I am safe and comfortable, all are so kind to me, and…and they see me, not put me on some damn high pedestal to behold in wonder. All this time, I have felt so ordinary, unlike when I was back home, for there, although I was one of them, they never saw me. They worshipped me, and bowed to me, but they never dared ask me of what I wanted, of what I feared, of what I…loved. And suddenly, I was here, among hundreds of those hurt more sorely, and by all reason I had to be neglected and forgotten, and yet…"

I watched her graceful back, wondering if all this was about us healers or a different person.

She turned around, piercing me with her fierce gaze.

"I know I shall have to return. But now, while I still can, I shall stay here."

"Just one more question, Éowyn," I said. "What about Faramir?"

Tears sprang to her eyes quite unexpectedly, and she held her hand to her face. I heard a muffled sob, but when I moved to comfort her, she jerked away and ran out of the room.

"All right, Lothíriel, let us see if I understand you. You want me to see the Lord Steward and inform him of the Lady Éowyn's condition?" the Warden asked, dangerously softly.

But this time I was not scared off so easily.

"Yes, Master Warden. Are we to care about our charges' bodily health only?"

He cocked his head at me and suddenly smiled. "Why do you not go to him, lady?"

I shrugged indefinitely. "He might not listen to me."

"And pray tell me, why should he heed my words, young lady?"

I had a suspicion the man was teasing me. The fall of the Dark Lord played most unexpected tricks on people's minds. Even the Warden was revealing his playful side, and that baffled me a bit.

I put my hands flat onto the polished surface of his desk and, leaning towards him, said, "Because you will tell him that she is ailing, and that you fear for her health…and that she seemed much better when he was here. Which will be the truth."

"All right, Lothíriel," he consented, grinning at me. "Let us be matchmakers for these two fools…"

I heaved a sigh of relief. "So you will do that?"

"On one condition only," he said, turning as grave as he had been in earlier days.

I steeled myself for some demand. Actually, I was prepared to do anything.

He beckoned to me, and when I leaned close enough, whispered fiercely, "Under no circumstances are you to reveal to anyone that I have just called the Ruling Steward of Gondor and the sister to the future King of Rohan fools!"

Someone knocked at my door, and that sounded quite urgent.

"Enter!" I said, sliding down from the windowsill where I had been sitting. The number of our charges declined, and now I could afford a longer break.

"I can't," came a voice, muffled by the heavy door. "Please, open the door, Lothíriel."

Puzzled, I went to open it and stood face to face with the Warden, who held in front of him a big tray laden with food and two mugs of ale. He glided into the room, passing me, and placed his load onto the table.

"Whatever is the meaning of this?" I demanded.

He shook his head, then grabbed my hand and pulled me out. "Just wanted to show you something," he whispered conspiratorially. "Then we can eat and drink together. Now quick, or we shall be late."

"Late? Master Warden, for goodness' sake…"

"Come!"

He pulled me out into the gardens and pointed at something.

Someone.

Two of them.

"In full view of the City," I shook my head in mock disapproval. "I should not expect that from Faramir."

We turned and went back towards the Houses.

"You know, maybe he knows exactly what he is doing," the Warden said thoughtfully.

"How so?"

"Well, now he will have to marry her. But that is such a boring subject, Lothíriel! Come, let us eat and drink. I promised the Halfling Meriadoc to bring you some ale should it come to kisses between the two of them."

"Hate ale," I grumbled.

The day of the coronation was splendid.

I had never seen that many people before. Many families that had been sent away before the siege now returned, and the City was full of women and children, all rushing around with great bunches of flowers, trying to tuck them into every crack, making even the half-destroyed buildings look like flowerbeds. There were minstrels and musicians from Dol Amroth, who seemed delighted to see me in the City. Apparently, things there were well, so my tiny qualms over having left my land in such situation were soothed very easily.

In the last evening of March, Faramir came to collect Éowyn and me from the Houses, and we went to the walls.

"Look," he said, pointing to the fields.

The vast expanse of the Pelennor was glittering with fires. There were pavilions up to the horizon; as darkness fell, they were not visible, only the fires filled the night with faint smell of smoke. They brought a sense of unreality, as if reflecting the twinkling stars up in the sky, only brighter and closer, and warmer, meaning the world to us, because they were giving warmth to those who were so much waited for here.

"Many people are going to stay up all night, watching and waiting," Faramir said softly.

"Me too," Éowyn and I said together.

"You are mad," Faramir said.

"No, we are not," Éowyn protested. "I mean it. I do not feel sleepy at all."

"Me either," I said. "I want to stay."

Faramir shook his head sorrowfully. "As you wish, ladies. Do as you please, but I am going to bed…however tempting it might be to stay," he added playfully, burying his face in Éowyn's hair for a moment. "But I can barely stand on my feet. I shall send you some warm cloaks, and the guards will stay here with you."

He did as he promised, and we spend that night together with Éowyn, huddled close to each other and wrapped in two thick woollen cloaks that were big enough to cover us both.

We must have dosed off before sunrise, but awoke when the bells began to ring, and the banners fluttered in the wind.

"My lady," one of the guards called, pointing up to the Tower of Ecthelion.

And there it was…the white standard of the Stewards, gleaming in the morning sun, as if showing the one who was still to come the way to the City of his forefathers. We stood looking at it, drinking it in, and it struck me that I had never really seen that pure white cloth for what it was: a canvas on which a new history would be written. I turned my head slightly to look at Éowyn, and suddenly saw the same awe and the same fierce pride in her eyes as she turned her gaze upon the Pelennor, upon the silver ranks advancing the City at a steady pace.

"Let us come down," she said, her voice hoarse with emotion.

So we did, and joined Faramir and other high officials at the barrier put up in the place of the gates, which had been destroyed during the siege.

My cousin was very pale and, it seemed to me, shaken; he smiled bravely at us, nodding at the casket the four Guards of the Citadel were carrying. I knew that inside had to be the crown of Earnur, which he had brought from Rath Dinen.

As the host approached, Aragorn coming first, with the Rangers of the North in silver and grey, I looked at Faramir again, and my heart tightened painfully in my chest.

His eyes were pools of anguish, dark and unseeing; his hands grasped the White Rod nervously, as if he wanted to crush it in his grip; in one moment, he turned his head to look at the multitude of people awaiting their fathers, husbands, sons and brothers. I saw him swallow and close his eyes for an instant; then he steeled himself again, looking in front of him with determination that nearly broke my heart.

I glanced to catch Éowyn's glance, but she seemed deeply in conversation with the Marshal form Rohan and did not heed her beloved's plight.

I looked frantically to the sides, as if hoping to find a solution in someone's face…and then it came, and I nearly laughed in relief.

"Wait just a little more, Faramir," I whispered. "I have a gift for you."

TBC

Yes, she has a gift for him, but you'll have to wait a bit!

Linda, there will be more Eomer. Promise.

Elehnin, thank you so much for your long review! Well, I know they are usually long, but I liked how you commented on the humour in my stories.

Yours,

Lilan