As Time Goes By
By
Stargazer Nataku
Finduilas stifled a yawn as she walked down the hallway towards the family quarters, carrying Faramir in her arms as he slept with his head against her shoulder. Her four-year-old son had fallen asleep in the Great Hall, where they had been having a banquet to celebrate the eleventh anniversary of his parents' marriage. The Steward's wife smiled as she pushed open the door to the room Faramir shared with his older brother, not by necessity, but by her sons' choice, and carried her sleeping son over to his bed.
Changing him into his nightclothes while he slept was difficult, and Finduilas reflected on how big her young son had grown. He had started so small, but had caught up quickly, though he was nowhere near as big as Boromir had been at his age. She smiled down upon him as she finished putting on his nightclothes and carefully pulled the covers back so she could tuck him in. As she did so, his sleepy grey eyes opened and looked up at her with a smile in them. "Mother?" he whispered softly, "Was the dance over?"
"No, my Faramir," Finduilas said softly back to him, "But you fell asleep."
"Oh," he whispered back, "I'm awful tired."
"Then sleep, dear heart."
"Mother?"
"Yes?"
"Will you sing me a song, just a short one? I know you have to go back to Father."
"Of course," Finduilas whispered, for her small son was more important to her than all the nobles of Gondor.
"Sing the one your mother used to sing you, in Dol Amroth. Was it very pretty there, Mother?"
"It was, my Faramir," she answered.
"I wish I could see it. I think the sea would be wonderful."
"It is," Finduilas said. For a moment she indulged herself and allowed herself to remember the play of the light on the waves and the sound of the gulls crying.
"Don't be sad, Mama," Faramir said, sitting up in bed and crawling to her. He threw his small arms around her neck and Finduilas pushed away the memories and was once again amazed by the perception of her son.
"I'm not sad exactly, Faramir," she said, "But I love the sea, and I miss it. I have not seen it in eleven years."
"That's a long time to be away from something you love."
"Yes, it is, dearest heart." He was quiet for a long minute.
"You are happy here though, aren't you, Mama? You're not going to decide you hate it and go home and leave me here, are you?"
"Never," Finduilas said, "I am happy here, Faramir, and I could never go home and leave you. I would be very unhappy if I did so, even if I did have the sea again."
"Good," Faramir answered with a yawn, "Because I don't want you to go away ever. I'd miss you too much."
"I would miss you too, darling," Finduilas answered, laying him back down and tucking him in again as she began to sing, wishing she did not have to return to the Great Hall and to her guests. Faramir was asleep before she had finished the second verse, but she allowed herself a third in order to watch him as he slept, a smile playing across her face in the moonlight.
The next morning, Finduilas awoke early and gave herself the luxury of lying in bed awake for several minutes. Denethor had gone already, off to take care of the Steward's business, and she was alone in the room. With a sigh, she got out of bed. Since his father's death, Denethor had been gone each morning before she awoke and she some days, when he was especially busy, she did not see him until she was preparing for bed. She had insisted he take his meals with them, at dinnertime at least, and this he tried to do faithfully. But it was not the same, seeing him with their sons and having time alone together. Finduilas sighed as she dressed, putting on a deep blue dress that Denethor liked especially. When she was clothed, she looked at herself critically in the mirror for a long moment.
Her hair was still black with no traces of grey; there were lines appearing around her eyes but they were not pronounced. It was within her eyes that Finduilas saw the change. Even to herself she looked tired, and she had to admit that she had been more often of late. Sighing, she picked up her hairbrush and began to brush her masses of black hair as she heard the slow creak of her door opening and the sound of two pairs of feet coming across the stones towards her.
A smile lit Finduilas' face as she saw her sons reflected behind her in the mirror. Boromir, his hair neatly brushed, his clothes in order, walked beside Faramir, holding his younger brother's hand. Faramir too was already clothed and ready for the day. "Good morning, boys," Finduilas said as she turned to her sons with a smile. Each gave her a hug and a kiss and then one of Faramir's small hands twined in her hair as he said in admiration: "You have pretty hair, Mama…"
"Why thank you, Faramir," she said.
"How come you don't leave it like that?"
"I don't know," Finduilas answered her son truthfully.
"Can you?"
"I will if you like it, dearest."
"I do," Faramir said.
"So do I," nine-year-old Boromir agreed.
"Very well then," Finduilas decided, though she pulled the front of it back, leaving most of her abundant hair loose, in a style she had often worn when she was a young woman, before she married. "Do you like that?" she asked her sons, and they both nodded. Finduilas smiled. "Come on then, breakfast is undoubtedly laid out by now." She took Faramir's hand in hers and Boromir took his brother's other hand as they went to find their breakfast.
It was midmorning when a page appeared before Finduilas, who smiled at him and laid aside her work. "My lady," he said with a bow, "A ship has come from Dol Amroth. This has been sent to you." He handed her an envelope that Finduilas accepted with a rush of joy. In only a moment, Faramir was by her side and looking over the arm of the chair with great interest.
"Who's it from?" he demanded, excitement on every feature.
"Its from my brother, your uncle," Finduilas answered her small son, "He is requesting that I return to Dol Amroth…he is to be married."
"You're leaving?" Faramir asked.
"If your father gives me leave, I think I shall go," Finduilas answered, excitement building, "I would not miss my brother's wedding."
"I don't want you to leave, Mama…" he said, and she saw tears coming to his grey eyes.
"Do not worry, Faramir," she said softly, allowing him to climb into the chair beside her, "I think you, your brother and I will go. Would you like that dearest?"
"And see the sea?" he asked, eyes widening with delight.
"Indeed."
"And meet Grandpa and Grandma?"
"Yes."
"Oh, Mama, yes! Can we go?"
"We shall see," Finduilas told her small son, "I have to speak to your father, but I do not think he shall object."
"Mama?" Faramir asked.
"Yes, dear?"
"Does Papa not like us anymore?"
"Of course he does," Finduilas said. "He loves you both very much. Why do you ask such a question?"
"Well, he used to be around all the time but now he's not."
"Darling, your father is very busy right now with Steward's business. Our people depend on him, and he does not want to fail them, for their welfare and safety are part of his obligations."
"But aren't we too?" Faramir asked, with remarkable clarity for a four year old. Finduilas, as she always was when he displayed such wisdom, was momentarily startled into silence.
"Yes, I suppose we are," she answered finally.
"He must have forgot."
"Then I'll have to remind him, won't I, sweetheart?" Finduilas asked, privately resolving to do so that evening. Faramir gave a contented nod and went back to his play.
That night, after Finduilas had tucked both of her sons into bed, she slipped into the hallway and went to look for her husband. When she came to Denethor's study, she opened the door quietly without knocking and paused a moment to look at Denethor as he sat at his desk. He was deeply engrossed in something on a paper before him, the firelight flickering in his face, and Finduilas recognized the signs of exhaustion on his face. With an internal sigh, she opened the door a little further and slipped inside, shutting it with a soft click behind her.
"I told you, Ceithin, I require nothing." He paused in his reading and looked up when her footsteps continued across the stone floor. "Finduilas!" he said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"Am I not allowed here?" Finduilas asked as she reached his side.
"Of course you are," Denethor answered. "Is something the matter?"
"You missed dinner," Finduilas began.
"I am sorry," Denethor said, and she sighed.
"Its all right," she said, sitting down in a chair beside his. "I got a letter from my brother today."
"Ah yes, the ship…How is your brother?"
"He is to be married."
"Married? Good."
"I would like to go for the wedding with our sons," Finduilas told him, and he smiled as he reached out to take her hands, finally looking completely away from the paper before him. She sighed inwardly as he spoke.
"Of course you can go. It will be a good experience for them to see Dol Amroth," he said, with a smile that reminded her of the early days of their marriage. It faded quickly as he spoke again. "I wish I could join you, but…"
"You have too much to do, I know," Finduilas said, and as much as she tried to conceal it, she heard an edge of disappointment in her own voice. Denethor was too shrewd not to catch the tone.
"What is the matter, Finduilas?" he asked her, concern spreading over his face.
She sighed, and spoke, looking at her husband seriously, "I understand that you have much to do, and that our people depend on you in many ways, but your sons need you too."
"Finduilas, there is much to be done," he said, pulling away from her as he spoke. "You know it is time for the gathering of all the nobles of Gondor, and there is much to plan and prepare before then."
"That is nearly a year away, Denethor," she said.
"I know," he answered, "But there is still much to be done if everything is to move smoothly. There is…"
"Denethor," she interrupted, "Do you know what your son asked me today?"
"No," Denethor answered curtly. He hated being interrupted, and Finduilas knew it, but she continued anyway.
"His exact words were, 'Does Papa not like us anymore?' Darling, they miss you." She paused, and then in a soft voice added, "I miss you." She looked down to where her hands was folded in her lap and resolved to say no more.
A heavy silence descended, and the tension between them was almost tangible, as it had never been in their eleven years together. Denethor did not speak, and after a long silence, Finduilas sighed. The rustling of her skirts was loud in the silent room as she stood and turned to leave. However, before she could take a step, her hand was caught and she turned to look at her husband, who was clinging to her hand tightly.
Denethor appeared to be deep in thought; his shoulders were curbed and he was slumped forward in his chair and Finduilas thought, for the first time, that he looked old. She found herself drawn to her seat again, but the silence continued, until it became so horrible that Finduilas knew she could no longer bear it. "Denethor, I…I have to be a little selfish. I know you have many responsibilities, but you also have to remember that your family is also your responsibility. I…I know it can't be as it was before. But your sons need more of your time, as do I, even if you simply hold me as we fall asleep. Simple gestures like that would make all the difference to myself and your sons.
"I know you love me. I have never doubted that and I never will. But knowing something is different than feeling it, darling." Denethor still said nothing. "Think about what I've said. We depart tomorrow for Dol Amroth, and I do not expect to return for some time." She rose to her feet and this time Denethor made no move to stop her. "Goodnight, dear."
She crossed to the door and, when she turned back, found he had not moved. With a sigh, she opened the door and slipped out.
When Finduilas awoke the next morning, there was no sign that Denethor's side of their bed had even be slept in, but she tried to pay it no notice as she got up and dressed. The ship would depart midmorning, and she had to prepare herself and her sons. Having packed the night before, she arranged to have her trunk and the one her sons would share taken, and then crossed the hall to her sons' room.
They were finished dressing, and jumped up when she came into the room. "Come boys," she said with a smile, "We just have time for breakfast, and then we must go. Are you excited?" As she watched them jump to their feet she reflected there really had been no need to ask, but Faramir spoke anyway, anticipation causing his voice to tremble.
"Yes!" he answered her enthusiastically, "I can't wait to see the sea, Mama, and meet Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Imrahil…and to go sailing, and…" Finduilas laughed as he continued to talk about how much fun he was going to have. She took Faramir's right hand as Boromir took his left, and together they walked down to the room where they ate their breakfast.
Denethor was not there, and she felt a rush of relief mixed with regret, but she ate anyway, making sure that Faramir was not talking too much to forget his breakfast. When they had finished, she smiled at them both and, rising to their feet, she and Boromir took Faramir's hands again. He laughed and chattered, and she and his older brother listened to him indulgently, often joining him in his childish laughter.
Yet Finduilas did not feel the laughter, not truly, and she kept looking about her for any sign of her husband. Surely he would not let them leave without appearing to say goodbye…Yet by the time they were entering the courtyard where their escort waited, her heart had sunk and a wave of disappointment rushed over her, even as they stepped out into the brightness and warmth of the late spring morning.
Denethor was standing there, holding the bridle of her horse, and with a rush of relief and shame she smiled at him. He returned the smile somewhat hesitantly and did not speak to her until both Boromir and Faramir were safely on their horses. When he did turn to her, he spoke in a low voice so that no one else could hear. "Goodbye, beloved," he said, "Give my best wishes to your brother and his new wife, and greetings to your parents."
"I shall," Finduilas answered, and she reached out and squeezed his hand. He squeezed it back and then leaned in to kiss her forehead gently.
"Take care."
"I will," she assured him, and allowed him to help her up onto her horse behind Faramir, who was excited at the prospect of a ride. Being as young as he was, he did not ride often, and only with a choice few people his parents trusted to keep him safe. He chattered away as they rode down through the city, quite oblivious to the looks and smiles he was getting from the people of Minas Tirith. Finduilas, however, was aware of it, and she smiled and nodded to as many as she could as she guided the horse down. Boromir, seated in front of his swordmaster, was silent, but his mother could see his excitement. It was not very perceptible, but as she knew her son better than any other, she could see the slight tenseness in his posture that spoke volumes to her.
It did not take long before they had left the city and were riding across the Pelannor. She smiled down at the people as she passed, glad that Faramir had ceased talking and was looking about him with wide eyes. "Its so big out here, Mother," he whispered to her as they passed through the Rammas Echor, for it was the first time he had been outside the great defensive wall. She smiled.
"The world is a large place, Faramir," she said to him, "Are you afraid?" He looked around them again.
"No," he answered, and his mother could detect no sense of fear in his voice, only awe. "Are we going very far?"
"Indeed we are, dearest," Finduilas answered her small son, "All the way down the Great River to the sea. And then we shall have to sail for several days to reach my parents' home.
"How long until we get there?"
"About a week," she answered patiently, "But do not fear, Faramir, there will be plenty to see between here and there." He fell silent again as they rode, but she was sure his attentive grey eyes missed nothing. She glanced over to her older son, and noted his excitement also building for the ship they were to take had appeared on the horizon. Faramir gasped. "Boromir!" he said, and almost tried to stand up on the running horse, "Boromir, look! Is that the ship?"
"Yes it is," Boromir answered, giving his brother an indulgent smile that Faramir returned with childish enthusiasm. Finduilas felt the memory of her troubles with Denethor slipping away and resolutely decided that she would not allow it to trouble her, for there was nothing to be done until she returned.
Her thoughts as she boarded the ship were only of her sons and containing their excitement so they would not fall overboard.
Several days later, Finduilas was awakened by a knock on her door and her small son's head as it popped around the corner. "Mama?" Faramir whispered, "Mama, they said we'll be there soon. Get up! Mama, wake up!"
"I'm awake, Faramir," she said, rolling over and sitting up as he came all the way into the room. "Why, Faramir, you're dressed already."
"We woke up early," Faramir said, "We thought we'd get ready."
"You've been good though, haven't you?"
"Yes," Faramir answered her, "Boromir kept me out of trouble, and I kept him out of trouble and neither of us was in trouble at all."
"That's good dear," Finduilas said as she got out of bed, her son's excitement proving contagious, "Where is Boromir?"
"Up on deck. He wanted to be the first to see the city. I'm going to go back up there, if its okay, Mama."
"Of course," she answered her son, "I'll be there in a moment." After he disappeared again, she dressed quickly, finding her son's enthusiasm catching. She regarded herself critically for a moment and pleased she went up onto the deck, finding Boromir and Faramir together at the bow of the ship. Boromir was holding his brother up so he could see over the railing, and Finduilas smiled as she came up behind them, ruffling Faramir's hair lovingly and placing her hand on Boromir's shoulder. "The city is just around this next peninsula," she told her boys, "We shall be able to see it any moment now."
"There!" Boromir suddenly cried, "Look, Faramir!" Both boys shaded their eyes and Finduilas felt a rush of happiness so strong it took her breath away. The sight of the swan banners flying from the towers and the city grey between the dark blue of the sea and the lighter blue of the sky filled her with comfort. Minas Tirith had been her home for many years, but Dol Amroth had a feel to it, a comfort about it that her husband's city would never have.
Then they drew closer and Finduilas' smile grew even wider as she spotted a group of people waiting on the piers. For the first time in eleven years, her father's beloved face came into view, standing beside her mother, with Imrahil by her side. "There's your grandfather and grandmother, and your uncle," Finduilas told her sons, and both Boromir and Faramir began to wave madly at the assembly on the docks, for indeed there were many more people behind her family, waiting to welcome her home.
"Come on, boys," she said with a smile, and led them to the gangplank just as the ship slid into dock. Boromir had put Faramir down, but was still holding his younger brother's hand, while Finduilas kept one hand on each of their shoulders. She held them to keep them out of the way, but the first moment when it was clear, she let them go and they went racing down the gangplank to where their grandparents and uncle waited.
As much as Finduilas desired to throw propriety to the wind and run after them herself, she forced herself to walk calmly even though every nerve in her body was tingling with excitement and she yearned to throw herself into her father's arms. The instant her feet hit the dock, she found her willpower disappearing and she could hold back no longer. Following her son's lead, she ran to her father and did indeed throw herself into his arms, feeling tears of joy coming to her eyes.
"Father," she said, her face breaking out into a smile as they pulled apart to gaze at each other. Finduilas saw tears in Adrahil's eyes as they regarded each other, and her joy was tempered for a moment when she realized how much her father had aged since her departure.
"Dearest Finduilas," Adrahil said, kissing her brow, "Welcome home."
"This isn't home," Faramir inserted suddenly, looking up at his grandfather seriously. "Minas Tirith is."
"Faramir," his mother said gently, as she embraced her mother.
"What?" her small son replied, "It isn't, as much as it is awful nice here and I like them a lot." She noticed he was sucking on a piece of candy, as was Boromir. She raised an eyebrow at Imrahil, who smiled sheepishly as he embraced her.
"Someone has to spoil them," brother told sister, merriment dancing in his eyes.
"You just wait until you have children, dear brother, and I shall spoil them far more than you spoil mine!" Finduilas promised, her own eyes sparkling with merriment.
"I am sure you will, sister-mine," Imrahil told her with a laugh, "I look forward to that day." She smiled at him warmly and squeezed his hand, then turned to look to her mother, who was speaking to Boromir and Faramir. True to themselves, her sons were already talking about anything that came into their minds and Eärwen was listening with as much patience as she had when Finduilas and Imrahil were little.
Faramir turned to her, and Finduilas smiled at him as he reached out his arms, begging to be picked up. Finduilas did so, settling him easily on her hip as Faramir turned to look seriously at his grandfather. "Hello," Adrahil said.
"I'm Faramir," her son said to his grandfather, causing Eärwen, Imrahil, Boromir and Finduilas to break into laughter.
"He knows that, Faramir!" Boromir said between laughs. Yet Adrahil did not laugh. He met his grandson's gaze seriously and, giving a small bow, answered his grandson formally.
"Well met, Faramir," he said, "It is an honor to welcome you to Dol Amroth."
"Its an honor to be here," Faramir answered, his childish voice speaking the grown up words earnestly, "Thank you for your hospitality."
"You have raised him well," Eärwen said with a laugh, "He's quite a little man!"
"They both are," Finduilas said, smiling at her older son as well. Boromir, as he was liable to do, looked slightly embarrassed and said nothing.
"Indeed so," Adrahil said, "But come, come! You must be tired, and I'm sure you would like to rest a little." He put his arm around his daughter's shoulders in a loose embrace as they began to walk and whispered in her ear. "I've missed you."
"And I you, Papa," Finduilas whispered back, and she held her own son a little tighter, remembering her wish for a daughter, and feeling now how thankful she was that her own children would most likely never marry only to leave her behind. She gave Faramir a little squeeze as she held him, and watched as his head swiveled back and forth so he would miss nothing, his eyes wide with wonder.
Within an hour, they were established in the room that had been Finduilas' as a child. Nothing had changed, save the addition of a small bed for each of her sons, and when Finduilas entered the room a smile spread across her face as she reminded herself of her old room, her eyes touching everything in their turn. Faramir brushed past her excitedly and Boromir followed a pace behind, as they began to explore every nook and cranny of the room.
Finduilas heard laughter behind her, and she turned to see her mother just behind her, looking over her shoulder at her grandsons. "They are wonderful," Eärwen said contentedly. "Such dear boys."
"They are," Finduilas answered, "Faramir reminds me so much of Imrahil at his age. He is such a light in my life. Children in Minas Tirith grow up too quickly. Already Boromir is training as hard as lads twice his age do here. He'll be a man before I know it. But Faramir…he is yet a child and it comforts me."
"Do you know who Boromir reminds me of?" Eärwen asked her daughter.
"Nay," Finduilas answered, turning to look at her mother quizzically.
"You, daughter." She motioned to the boys, who were paused at the side of the room. Faramir had accidentally slipped and fallen, and Boromir was helping his younger brother up and checking for any injury. "The way he cares for Faramir is just the way you did when your brother was young."
"He has always been like that. When Faramir was born I told Boromir that being an older brother was a great responsibility, and he promised that he would always help him and protect him. And my Boromir is nothing if not steadfast when it comes to a promise he has made." Finduilas smiled as she watched her sons come back over to them.
"Mama, we want to go see the beach!" Faramir said, "Please?"
"I do not wish do disappoint you, my dears, but it has been a long trip, and I think I would like to rest awhile." Both of her sons face's fell.
"I'll take them," a voice came from behind her, and Finduilas turned to see Imrahil entering her sitting room.
"That's perfect," Finduilas said with a smile, "Boys, how would you like to go with your uncle?"
"Yes!" Boromir answered with enthusiasm, and Finduilas was taken aback by it. It was true that Boromir was just as enthusiastic as his little brother, but he rarely voiced it. When he did, it gave her particular pleasure to agree to what he wanted. She smiled.
"All right then, go on." She turned to her brother. "Not to 'our' beach, Imrahil. I want to be with them the first time they see it."
"Of course," Imrahil answered, glancing down at his nephews. Faramir was talking to Boromir so rapidly it was hard to follow what he was saying.
"You sure you'll be all right with them?" their mother asked their uncle dryly.
"If I can handle your tongue, I'm sure I can handle theirs," he answered, with a smile at her. "Come on then, boys. I'll show you some different kinds of ships up close."
"Really?" Faramir asked, and his grey eyes shone.
"Really," Imrahil answered as they turned to leave the room. Finduilas laughed, and turned to her mother.
"Boromir is not usually so open with his enthusiasm."
"Well, he and Imrahil had quite a discussion over swords and such earlier. I think young Boromir is quite taken with him."
"I don't doubt it…" Finduilas answered, and there was a melancholy note in her voice.
"Now dear," her mother said, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, "You know that he cannot stay young forever."
"I know, mother," Finduilas answered. "I only wish he was not growing up so quickly. He is already able to spar with the ten and eleven year olds, and he's only eight. I fear it will be far too early that he will be allowed to go into battle for the first time."
"Surely your husband would not allow him to go too young…he is to be the next Steward after all."
"Denethor is proud of his progress. I am sure if Boromir wished to go and the swordmaster said he was ready Denethor would have nothing to say against it." She sighed, and a wave of weariness washed over her. Eärwen noticed, and she squeezed her daughter's shoulder.
"You need a rest, dear. It has been a long journey. I'll be sure to have you awakened in time for dinner."
"Thank you, Mother. It is so good to be home."
"I am glad to have you with us," Eärwen answered, and quietly left the room. Finduilas smiled and walked over to shut the curtains, blocking most of the light from the bright day outside. When she lay down, she was asleep in moments.
That evening, when Finduilas entered the dining room after her nap, her gaze fell almost immediately on the tall young woman standing by Eärwen's side. She was taller than Finduilas, who estimated that this young lady would be nearly as tall as Imrahil himself. She had reddish-golden hair that was unornamented and hung loose down her back. Her eyes were hazel and had a gentle and kind look in them as she surveyed the room calmly, standing silently by her future mother-in-law.
The moment she entered the room, several sets of eyes turned to them and Eärwen motioned for Finduilas to come join her, and Finduilas moved to do so, though her young sons stopped her in her tracks, their faces beaming with happiness. She smiled back at them. "Did you have fun with your uncle?" she asked.
"Yeah. He showed us all the different sorts of ships, and then we walked on the beach. Faramir fell in, but he didn't get hurt, just wet."
"I'm fine, Mama!" her younger son said. "And I got seaweed in my hair," Faramir added proudly, "Uncle Imrahil says that some people here eat seaweed. Is that true, Mama?"
"It is indeed," Finduilas answered. "Have you met your aunt yet?" When they shook their heads, Finduilas added, "Well come then," and pushed both of her sons over to her mother, casting a smile at the newcomer by her mother's side. Eärwen turned to the young lady as Finduilas stopped before them. "This, of course, is my daughter Finduilas," she said kindly, "And these…" Finduilas saw Boromir and Faramir straighten, "Are my grandsons. This is Boromir…"
"How do you do," Boromir said as bowed.
"And Faramir," Eärwen concluded.
"How do you do," Faramir said, also bowing. When he had finished, he looked anxiously up at his older brother who nodded with a wink, and Faramir broke into a smile. Valar help me…Finduilas thought, I mustn't laugh.
"This," Eärwen added, "Is Lady Eryniel. She is to be your aunt," she addressed the boys.
"Aunt?" Faramir asked, "But I was just getting used to having an uncle!" Finduilas was not surprised, yet still she looked anxiously to the young woman who was to marry her brother, hoping she would not see offense written on her face. But the woman was smiling, and she knelt down so she was at Faramir's eye level, and spoke to him softly, her eyes kind.
Faramir answered her in a small voice, and smiled as his hand sought his brother's. Finduilas took a moment to glance at her mother, who was also smiling down at her grandsons. When she met Finduilas' eyes, she gave a slight nod, and Finduilas understood the unspoken communication. Eärwen was pleased with this young woman, and Finduilas found herself so as well. But then again, Finduilas knew she would be pleased with anyone who so obviously approved of her sons.
When she looked back, Boromir and Faramir were gone, heading over to their Uncle, and Eärwen was saying she needed to speak with her husband, leaving Eryniel and Finduilas standing alone together. Finduilas smiled at the younger woman, who returned the salutation and spoke. "I am pleased to finally meet you, Lady Finduilas," she said, "Lord Imrahil has told me much about you." Finduilas laughed.
"I hope some of it was good."
"I assure you, it all was. He thinks very highly of you."
"We have always been close. I have missed him since my marriage. With father getting older, Imrahil could not be spared to come to Minas Tirith, and I have not been free to leave my city either. This is the first I have seen him since Boromir was born, and that will be nine years ago this autumn."
"Is your son so young? He carries himself as though he were older than eight."
"Indeed he does," Finduilas answered. "He is a very serious little lad, and desires more than anything else to please his father by attempting to emulate him." Finduilas smiled, "Although he is not entirely like his father. I am glad he received a bit of myself as well."
"And what of your younger? He seems like such a darling, m'lady," Eryniel said.
"Please, call me Finduilas," she said, "We are to be family after all. As for Faramir, he is a darling. He reminds me of Imrahil when Imrahil was young. If Boromir is Denethor's son, then Faramir is mine. Not that I do not love them both of course…" she added, hoping she would not be misunderstood.
"I understand completely," Eryniel said. "It is the same with my sister and I and our parents. It is a pity that my sister could not come to the wedding, but she is expecting her first child, and it was not possible for her to travel."
"Do you know when you shall be wed?"
"The day after tomorrow," Eryniel answered, and her smile widened, "Although I wish it were this instant. It has not been a long wait, but it has been a difficult one." Finduilas nodded her understanding, thinking back to the long winter she had spent between her engagement and her wedding. Denethor had been so far away, and it had seemed as though the spring would never come.
At that moment, a rush of homesickness surprised Finduilas as she stood in the place that once she had thought the only home she would ever have. Yet now, she thought of Denethor, taking his meal alone in their family's dining room and she suddenly wished for him, so sharply that she almost gasped with the weight of the feeling.
Yet in another moment, she corrected herself. Denethor would be working so hard that he would undoubtedly take his meal in his office; he would welcome the extra time to take care of the many pressing duties of the Steward of Gondor. She checked a sigh, remembering her kindly father-in-law. He had never spent so much time working in the years she had dwelt in Minas Tirith; he had always taken time in the evening to spend with his family.
"Is this the first time you have been home since your marriage then?" Eryniel interrupted Finduilas' musings with a question, and Finduilas nodded.
"Yes it is," she replied. "The city itself has not changed at all, it seems. It is so quiet here, so peaceful. Not at all like the atmosphere of Minas Tirith."
"I know nothing of the White City," Eryniel reflected, "For I have never been there."
"You are welcome to come whenever you wish," Finduilas offered, "We would love to have you."
"Perhaps," the younger woman answered, "It would be nice for your brother. He often tells me how much he misses you." She laughed. "I am glad you are his sister, else I would think you had stolen his heart."
"Who had stolen whose heart?" a rumbling voice asked, and both women turned to Imrahil who had come up to them. "Sister, you're not attempting to hinder my marriage are you?"
"Indeed not!" she said, "I would not even think of attempting to do such a thing, when it is so amazing that she decided she would have you at all! We may never get such a chance again."
"Is that so?" Imrahil asked.
"Indeed," Finduilas answered him, her eyes shining merrily. She glanced around the room and her gaze fell on Boromir and Faramir who, having seated themselves in the corner, were deep in conversation with each other. In the meantime, Imrahil took his future wife's hand and smiled, looking deep into her eyes with true contentment. Finduilas turned away, feeling like an intruder in the moment between her brother and his fiancée, and was glad when they were called to dinner only a moment later.
Later that evening, after she had put the boys to bed with a promise that they not talk too long, she slipped from the room after extinguishing the candles, and sought out the gardens. She was tired, but she did not feel like sleeping, as a vague malaise had settled over her and remaining still seemed to accentuate it.
Finduilas sighed as she walked the garden. It had been a long journey and, as happy as she was to have returned to Dol Amroth, she began to wonder whether she ought to have come at all. Remembering back to the winter she had spent alone between her engagement and her marriage, she should have realized how being apart from Denethor would affect her.
True, she had not seen him for more than a few moments each day since his father had died, but it was comforting to know that he was near, even when they were not together. She sighed and walked away from the part of the garden where they had spent most of their time together and went down into the second section. This was built on a small bluff that looked over the rest of the city, and a stone rail separated her from the edge. She leaned up against it, smelling the flowers and the sea air about her and hearing the calming sound of the waves lapping against the shore. The moon was nearly full and reflected brightly on the water.
She reveled in the beauty before her, a small half smile on her face as she watched the waves lapping on the shore and the moon shining on the water. It touched her in a way that nothing else ever had; a sense of peace washed over her and she forgot her worries and her weariness and just was.
"It is good to see you here again," a voice said from behind her. Rather than breaking the moment, it was part of it, a familiar piece in the scene about her.
"It is good to be here again," Finduilas replied as Imrahil stepped up next to her.
"I thought you would be in the upper gardens."
"As did I," Finduilas said, "And I was for awhile. But I found I was preoccupied there, and I did not wish to be."
"Is something the matter, sister?" Finduilas paused. She knew how protective Imrahil could be, and was well aware of the promise he had made at her wedding, but she did not wish to lie to him.
"I will not deny that life has been…somewhat difficult of late," she said, choosing her words carefully. "I try not to mind, but…"
"But what?" Imrahil asked, looking at her seriously.
"Since his father died," Finduilas explained, "Denethor has spent nearly every waking moment in his study. He cares about his country so much that he refuses to let anyone else take on some of his burdens. Boromir does not say anything, but I know he feels his father's absence, and Faramir asked me the other day if Denethor still liked them. What was I to say to that? Faramir understands so much for a child his age, but he is still a child. He cannot understand everything…"
"And what about you, Finduilas?" Imrahil asked.
"I miss him also," she admitted. "And before you ask," she continued, "I have told him so."
"Then there is nothing more you can do," Imrahil conceded, "But if Denethor's the man I thought he was, and indeed should be, he will realize how wrong he is."
"He will never admit that," Finduilas said with a laugh.
"No, probably not, but he can change his actions without admitting he was wrong." Finduilas acquiesced that point. "I have a feeling," Imrahil said, "That he'll come to see his mistake after you've been away for a month."
"That is my hope," she answered, and they fell into a comfortable silence for several long moments before Finduilas broke it again. "Eryniel is a very sweet woman, Imrahil," Finduilas said, "She suits you." She turned and, though it was difficult, in the moonlight she thought her brother was blushing.
"I am quite fond of her," he said after a moment. Finduilas laughed.
"It is fine to say you love her, Imrahil," she said. "I understand that."
"I know you do," he said, "It is still hard to believe that I shall be married in less than two days time."
"It comes to the best of us," Finduilas said. "And before you know, it'll be even more frightening."
"How so?"
"Children," Finduilas said with a laugh.
Their rest of their visit to Dol Amroth sped by quickly. The wedding had been simple, yet beautiful, and it made Finduilas remember her own wedding with warmth, though it increased her desire to see her own husband again.
Boromir and Faramir reveled in everything, taking in the new sights and activities with boyish enthusiasm, making Finduilas wish they had made the journey sooner. They sailed and rowed to their hearts' content and spent many long hours with their mother and uncle walking the shore and visiting the beach that Finduilas and Imrahil called their own.
Yet through it all, Finduilas was troubled by a vague malaise, which grew stronger as the time passed. She found herself spending more time sitting within sight of the sea, just watching as the waves lapped on the shore and the gulls cried overhead. She still loved them as much as she had when she was a child and now, she found, Faramir did as well. He would sit by her side watching them for hours, and both mother and son were contented to do so as Boromir sparred with his uncle nearby.
Yet it was time for their journey home. Their sojourn by the sea had lasted nearly two months, and their return could be delayed no longer. Finduilas, although she had been happy to spend time in her first home, desired nothing more than to return to Minas Tirith. She missed Denethor far more than she admitted to anyone and above all else, she yearned to be done with the long journey and back in her own home.
The last night, Finduilas lay in bed listening to the crash of the waves against the shore and her sons' gentle breathing as they slept. She was exhausted, feeling weariness down to her very bones, yet sleep remained elusive. She turned over in bed to lie on her side, watching her sons as they slept. The moonlight fell across both of their beds, illuminating their young features, and Finduilas felt herself smile. Boromir lay stretched out on his back; he had thrown the covers partially off and his face was the very picture of peace.
Faramir, on the other hand, was curled tightly up on his side, his hands were clenched into the blanket covering him, and his face was screwed up in some emotion; whether it was fear or pain or distress Finduilas did not know. She was about ready to rise from bed to comfort her young son, when suddenly he jerked and sat straight up in bed with a small cry, tears streaming from his grey eyes.
Almost as if he hadn't thought, Faramir was out of bed. Finduilas sat up and her son, who had originally been heading for his brother's bed, raced for her. He jumped up onto the bed and crawled over to her, throwing himself into her arms as he sobbed silently. Finduilas pulled him close to her and rocked him, stroking his hair and whispering wordless sounds of comfort as he wept.
When he calmed a little, she whispered to him to avoid waking his brother. "Faramir, love, what's the matter?"
"I had an awful dream, Mama," he answered, clinging to her nightgown.
"What happened, dearest?" she asked, still stroking his hair as she held him close.
"You were gone, Mama," he said, "And I looked and looked and looked and I couldn't find you. And Boromir came and found me and we were okay for a while, but then he disappeared too and I couldn't find Papa, and I was scared, and I wanted you so badly but you weren't there."
"Don't worry," she said, "I'm here Faramir."
"Can I sleep here?" he asked. Finduilas smiled. Ordinarily, if he were to have a nightmare at home, his father would not allow him to remain with her in their bed. But now, thousands of miles away from Minas Tirith, Finduilas felt herself smile.
"Yes," she answered, lying back down and pulling him with her. He curled up tightly against her side, and she continued to stroke his back until he fell asleep. She was not far behind him in succumbing to sleep.
When she awoke the next morning, she was surprised to find that Boromir had joined them during the night and had wrapped his arm around Faramir from the other side. Finduilas smiled and propped her head up on one hand to watch them sleep for a moment. The weariness and malaise she had felt the night before were gone, replaced by contentment as she watched her sons sleep.
Faramir's back was to her, and when she had pulled away he had snuggled unconsciously closer to his brother, who reacted by pulling Faramir closer. Both of their faces were completely relaxed and peaceful, their black hair tousled and matted by sleep. If only, she thought, Denethor were here, this moment would be perfect.
Finduilas smiled in spite of that thought as she rose quietly from bed. Still in her nightdress, she walked over and sat down before the mirror at her vanity and began to brush out her own hair, just as tangled from sleep as her sons'. While she did so, she hummed softly to herself, and felt her spirits lifting even more than they had been during their visit. It was wonderful, she decided, to return to her birthplace and to see her family and everything else she had left behind, but it was even more wonderful to be going home. She missed Denethor more than she admitted to anyone, although she thought her mother suspected; Eärwen had always been perceptive of her daughter's feelings, often before Finduilas fully recognized them herself.
She wrapped her abundant hair into a knot on the back of her head and pinned it well to keep it from blowing in the wind on the ship, and reflected that this perception was a trait all mothers possessed, at least in part. Finduilas was just as keen to notice changes in her sons' moods as Eärwen had always been with her own.
Finduilas dressed quietly and then she walked over to the side of the bed where her sons still slept, oblivious to the sun streaming in through the window. She watched them for a moment, loath to break their peace by waking them, but she had delayed as long as was possible. She leaned over them and with a gentle touch on each shoulder and some soft words, woke them from their slumber.
They stirred and Boromir turned sleepy grey eyes to her. "Wake up darlings," she said in response to the question in his eyes. "We have to prepare to depart." Boromir sat up in bed.
"Are you sure we can't stay longer, Mother?" he asked, as he gave Faramir, who had only stirred, a good shake to try to get him out of bed.
"Yes, I am," she said with a smile, and sat down on the bed beside him. "You love it here, don't you?"
"Well," he said, and there was a pause. Finduilas understood.
"You're going to miss your uncle," she said with a loving laugh. Boromir gave her a sheepish look and nodded.
"Its not that I don't like it here, mother…" he said.
"But scenery has never been high in your esteem, unless it belongs to the White City herself. I understand, Boromir." She smiled gently at him, and he returned it with a wide grin. "Now, can you get yourself dressed please, dear? I must wake your brother." Boromir nodded and jumped out of bed and went to dress himself. Finduilas turned to Faramir.
"Faramir darling," she said and she gave him a soft shake. "I know you're awake, so pretending you are not will do you no good." His grey eyes opened and when they caught hers they were exasperated in a manner that only a four-year-old could have.
"You always know," he said with a little pout.
"Indeed I do," she answered as he sat up. "I did that to my own mother when I was young." She smiled at him. "We cannot delay this morning, dear heart. The ship will depart without us, and we cannot have that. Your father is looking for us to come home."
"Do we have to go?" he asked.
"Yes, Faramir, we do."
"But I love it here. I want to stay. I love the ocean and the birds, and Grandma and Grandpa and I don't want to go yet."
"I know, darling. I do also, but you know what else I love?"
"What?" he asked.
"Well, your father, to begin," she said, "And sitting in front of the fire in my room with you and your brother, and walking in my garden, and standing on top of the White Tower to watch the sunset. You love those things too, don't you, Faramir?"
"Yes," he said, and he smiled at her.
"If we were to stay here, darling, we could not do any of those things. And that would make Mother very sad. You do not want me to be sad, do you, dear?"
"Never," he answered seriously.
"Can you get yourself dressed and ready then, my Faramir?"
"Yes," he answered. It took only a few minutes for him to dress and then Finduilas herself brushed his hair. By the time she was done helping Faramir, Boromir had finished dressing and made all three of the beds.
"You both look very handsome," she told her sons with a smile. "Are you ready for breakfast?" They both nodded, and together the three of them went out of the room.
Usually, their breakfasts had been merry affairs, for Dol Amroth's people were lighthearted and the prince's family was no different. Yet this morning, the meal was sober. Conversation was kind and loving, but overshadowed by the coming parting so it had lost its mirth; Finduilas spoke little but watched much. Her sons sat next to each other at her left side, Boromir keeping a watchful eye on Faramir; neither child speaking at all unless spoken to. It was not strange for Boromir to be quiet, and Faramir, it seemed, sensed the sadness in the room and did not wish to speak either. Eryniel and Imrahil sat across from her family, and Finduilas smiled as she watched them discreetly. Whenever Imrahil spoke to his wife, his voice was gentle, and whenever they looked at each other their eyes shone with such contentment that it made Finduilas feel as if she were a newlywed herself, and increased her desire for Denethor tenfold.
Finally there were her parents, sitting at the head and foot of the table as they always had, Eärwen smiling benignly over her family while Adrahil talked to Boromir about his studies as he had once talked to Imrahil. Finduilas smiled contentedly as she finished her breakfast and waited patiently while the rest of the family finished theirs. No one seemed to be hurried to finish, but when they all finally had, Adrahil looked at her with a sad smile as he rose to his feet and the rest of the family followed suit. "We cannot delay any longer," the Prince said, his voice holding the ring of regret that stressed just how much he wished they could. Finduilas nodded, smiling sadly at her father, and allowed him to take her arm as they left the dining room.
When Dol Amroth had, for the second time in Finduilas' life, disappeared in the distance behind them, Finduilas felt a rush of weariness. In being true to their childish natures, Boromir and Faramir were excited about the journey ahead, and raced around the boat, taking in everything they could see and once again asking the sailors as many questions as they could think of. Finduilas herself sat in the shade on the deck, out of the way, and watched them. The journey back to Minas Tirith would be longer, for they had to fight the current of the Great River, and Finduilas wished it were over with and that she was seated in her armchair before the fire in her own chambers.
She sighed. The parting with her parents had been in some ways easier and in some ways harder than the first. Then she had feared what she would find at the end of her journey; she had known Denethor would be there, but he had been the only familiar thing in a city of strangers. This time, she was returning to a home; a place she knew and had made her own. Yet at the same time, she thought back to the age in her father's face, how he had grown old in the years since her marriage. She knew that this parting might very well be the final parting, the last time she would ever see her beloved father in life, for she was not sure if he meant to come to the Great Council in Minas Tirith. It would be far more prudent, due to his advanced age, to send his son in his place.
There was a rush of sadness then; so strong she had to fight to keep it from showing on her face, as if it were the first touch of a great grief to come. These thoughts were foolish and morbid; she scolded herself, yet she could not deny the touch of truth in them. Finduilas shut her eyes and tried to calm herself; when she felt the light touch on her shoulder she first thought she had imagined it. Yet when she opened her eyes Faramir was crawling into her lap with a concerned look in his grey eyes. He wrapped his small arms around her neck and clung to her. "Its okay, Mama," he said softly. "We're going home now, and we'll be there soon, and you can do all that stuff you said you wanted to do. And then next summer maybe we can come back, because I don't want to stay away for a very long time because I liked it there."
Finduilas smiled. "Perhaps we can," she answered, somewhat cryptically. "I take it then that you boys enjoyed yourselves and are glad you went?" Faramir nodded happily.
"Boromir?" Finduilas asked, and her older son smiled at her as he sat down in a chair by her side.
"I am, Mother, but I am mostly happy to be going home."
"I am too, Boromir," she answered, returning his smile as she reached over and squeezed his shoulder.
"Me too," Faramir piped in. Finduilas squeezed him gently and tried not to wonder if Denethor would be as happy to know they were coming home.
The long journey over, Finduilas felt a rush of relief as they rode through the Great Gate. It was late; the stars were already out and the moon was rising and the city was quiet and the streets empty. Light and laughter floated out of some of the dwellings they passed; others were dark and silent, empty testaments to better days. Faramir was dozing on the horse in front of her and Finduilas took special care to keep him from falling. Boromir looked exhausted, though he was not prone to show such things on his reliable face, and Finduilas herself had never felt so tired. When they rode into the courtyard beneath the Tower of Ecthelion, she was glad to turn the boys over to Isëlmra, who had met them there. Once she had embraced them, giving them each a goodnight kiss, she went immediately to her own chambers.
Denethor was not there, but she had not been expecting him to be. Their return was sudden, it was late, and undoubtedly he would not have expected them. And, she had to admit herself, she was rather glad of it. A sometimes dull, sometimes sharp achy pain seemed to have manifested in every joint in her body; and her head was spinning, she assumed with exhaustion. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to lie down in bed and sleep.
With trembling hands, Finduilas was trying to unbutton her dress when there was a soft knock on the door, and Isëlmra came in. "M'lady, I'm glad you're back," she said, laying the clothes she had been carrying down on a chair. "Your boys are in bed, sound asleep, the dear souls. They were exhausted." She looked Finduilas over sharply. "Are you well, child?" she demanded, "You're white as a ghost, you are."
"I'm just tired," Finduilas said, "That is all."
"Well no wonder. Come on dear, let me help you." Isëlmra's strong, capable hands undid the dress down the back. "There you are," she said, "Now here's your nightdress, and we'll tuck you in to bed. You'll feel more yourself after a good night's sleep." Finduilas wanted to ask about her husband, but her head was starting to spin much harder, and her stomach seemed to be in her throat, so she did not trust herself to speak. She just concentrated on dressing herself in her nightdress, and prayed for the ability to remain upright.
"There you are," Isëlmra's voice said kindly from behind Finduilas, and she came around front and turned the covers back. Finduilas remained rooted to one spot, sure that if she even breathed she would collapse. Her vision went blurry, the ache seemed to increase until it succeeded in blinding her, and in a terrible moment, she realized, somewhat disjointedly, that she was falling.
She heard only two sounds as she slipped into unconsciousness: Isëlmra's voice calling her name and the sound of the chamber door opening.
Her eyes opened slowly, and she was aware of that fact that she still ached all over and that the sun was shining brightly in her eyes. She was tired, and her head ached, but Finduilas nevertheless tried to remember what had happened. Blinking a few more times, her eyes adjusted to the bright light of the midday sun, and she looked around to find Denethor asleep in a chair which had been pulled up right next to where she lay. It slowly came back to her then; returning from Dol Amroth, how ill she had been feeling and how tired, Isëlmra helping her change, the sound of a door opening…
She swallowed. It had probably been Denethor opening the door. How worried he must have been! And how ridiculous! Finduilas had never fainted in her entire life, and she told herself half seriously that she had terrible timing.
She allowed herself a few minutes to watch Denethor as he slept. He looked exhausted, and the weariness aged him. She wondered if he had sat there all night, then decided it was worthless wondering, for she knew he had. She smiled and sat up a little so she could reach out and lay a hand on his knee.
He awoke instantly, looking at her with concern, his eyes wearing that wild look she had only seen once before, when he had returned to the city upon hearing of her troubles with Faramir's birth. It held a taste of the same despair, the same fear that had chilled her so. "Finduilas!" he said, and he sat forward and grabbed her hand. "Are you all right?"
"I am better," she answered. "My head aches, and I am tired, but it is nothing too serious, I do not think." He clasped her hand more tightly between his own.
"I need to send for the healers," Denethor said. "They told me you were in no danger, but wished to see you when you awoke."
"Darling, I hardly think…" she stopped speaking when she caught the look on his face. "All right," she said and smiled, reflecting that she would bear anything to put Denethor at ease. He nodded tersely and disappeared for only a moment.
When he came back, Finduilas smiled and made up her mind to try to change the subject. Her headache was already fading and, though she still felt a vague malaise she was feeling much improved from the night before. "How have you fared, Denethor?" she asked softly.
He was silent for a long moment, staring down at his hands as he sat down in the chair again. "I have been well," he said. "Though I missed you, and the boys."
"I missed you also. Even my old home was not the same without you. But the boys liked it there, and I think Boromir was much taken with my brother." She chuckled. "Although I am sure you shall hear all about it. They are such dears." She smiled, a smile that faded quickly. "What have they been told?"
"Just that you are tired. I did not wish to frighten them."
"Good," Finduilas said as her smile returned. It was exactly what she would have wanted. She sat back against the pillows and smiled at her husband. "You know, Denethor," she commented. "The bed is much more comfortable than that chair." He looked up sharply at her, but she just smiled and patted the place beside her on the bed. "Please?" she added.
Denethor smiled and exchanged the chair for the bed, sitting back on the pillows. With a contented sigh, Finduilas cuddled up against his side. In response, Denethor wrapped his arm around her and they sat silently for several long moments. Finduilas shut her eyes and just reveled in the feel of his arm around her, forcing her mind to calm itself. She would not let herself wonder just how long it had been since they had just sat together, enjoying a companionable silence that she loved so well. "I have missed this," she said finally, opening her eyes and shifting a little to look up at her husband.
"I have also," Denethor said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, something that Finduilas had always loved because it reminded her of her mother and made her feel safe and cherished. "I did as you bid me," he then said suddenly.
"What did I…"
"Think," Denethor answered. "I was wrong, m'lady, and I beg your pardon. Your happiness is everything to me, beloved, and I have taken you for granted. Will you forgive me?"
"Always," Finduilas whispered, and buried herself in his arms contentedly. She was surprised he had admitted his fault. Denethor was not one to do so. She would repay him, she decided, for she knew how much an admission of that sort taxed her proud husband. "Ah, Denethor," she said, "You make me so happy." Then she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"What?" Denethor demanded, his own amusement shining in his eyes as he looked down into her own.
"I wish you to keep a promise you once made to me, my lord."
"Which?" Denethor asked. She pretended to pull away in mock anger.
"Why, do you not remember our wedding night?"
"I do, m'lady," he answered, "Very well."
"Then you have to remember the promise you made." She smiled suddenly and shifted so she was facing him completely. "As I recall, your words were 'As many as my lady wishes, for as long as my lady wishes.' " Her eyes sparkled merrily. "Do you remember now?"
"Indeed," he answered. "And as always, I am at your command, if you wish…"
"I do," she answered, and they shared a private smile as Denethor reached up and touched her cheek gently.
"So beautiful," he said, as he leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss on her lips. Her arms wrapped instinctively around his neck, and for a moment they both allowed themselves to be lost in each other's arms.
However, after only a short moment, a knock on the door startled them both, and they pulled apart quickly as Denethor left the bed to open the door, giving Finduilas a moment to get settled. When she had, he opened the door and Isëlmra stepped in, the Warden of the Houses of Healing at her side.
The Warden was a short man, and somewhat stout, but he had cheery grey eyes that exuded knowledge and confidence which, when matched with his merry smile, made the sickest man feel better by his mere presence. He came to Finduilas' side, his eyes sparkling merrily and his smile wide; when he spoke his voice was soft and gentle. "It is good you are awake, m'lady," he said, bowing to her before reaching out and taking up her wrist to feel her pulse. "How do you fare this morning?"
"I am well," she answered. "The headache I awoke with has already disappeared."
"Very good," the man said. "Now, can you explain to me exactly how you felt last night?" he laid her hand back down, seemingly satisfied with what he had felt there. Finduilas went through and told him, making sure not to leave out any details, and tried to keep one eye on the warden and the other on her husband, who was looking more worried than ever now that she was explaining.
The warden nodded, thinking hard as she told him everything, and when she had finished, he pondered a moment and then rose to his feet. "I think there is no cause to worry, m'lady," he said, making sure his gaze caught Denethor's as well as he said it. "This is most likely a singular occurrence, brought on by weariness and the stress of travel. I do not believe it shall happen again. Nevertheless, I am at your service, m'lady, should you again feel ill."
"I thank you for your time and reassurance," Finduilas answered. The man bowed, and Isëlmra smiled at her lady and led the warden from the room. Finduilas smiled at Denethor, glad to see the relief on his face as she rose from bed. He took her hand with a smile and drew her close, and began to waltz with her around the room as she laughed. "You've improved," she commented, "So much that I swear you've been practicing without me. Who is she, then?" she teased.
"When I expressed my desire to surprise you with improvement, Isëlmra was all too open to helping me do so," he admitted, his eyes twinkling merrily at her.
"Well I am quite surprised, and glad I do not need to be jealous," she said lightly. "I do not wish to compete with any younger women."
"Never," he told her, and he sounded so serious that Finduilas kissed him gently on the cheek, even though they were still dancing, and spoke again, softening her voice.
"Dear heart, I know that and I trust you. That is why I can tease you about it, though I know your tendency towards loving women younger than yourself."
"Well I should think at least one of us benefited from that tendency," he answered.
"Too true," she agreed, as she slowed and stopped their impromptu dance. "But now, have you seen your sons?"
"Not yet, m'lady," he answered, bowing to her as was proper at the end of a dance.
"Then I think you had best let me dress so that we may go see them, for I am not going to let you out of my sight one moment today, even for our sons. I have missed you so," she said, as she went to the wardrobe and opened it, regarding the contents critically. However, as she made her selection, and moved to withdraw the chosen garment, she felt Denethor's arms wrap around her waist from behind.
"You do not wish to disturb the boys' lessons do you?" he asked, lifting her hair and pressing a kiss to the back of her neck as he pulled her closer.
"The boys'?" she asked.
"I told Boromir's tutor that Faramir may go along and listen today, and may stay while Boromir does his work if he is quiet and does not disturb his brother's studies."
"He'll love that," Finduilas said, her voice delighted.
"It is nearly time for him to start his own studies. The boy does have a mind for it."
"Oh I wish you'd let him, Denethor," Finduilas said. "Even if it were just an hour or so a day."
"Perhaps I will," Denethor said with a smile, and Finduilas turned and looked into his eyes and read there that it would be permitted. Her smile widened and she kissed Denethor thankfully, feeling as if she had found her husband again, instead of the Steward of Gondor. Quite joyful, she allowed him to distract her, feeling in her heart that the days to come would be the happiest of her life.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading. :-D This fanfic went through several major revisions, but I think this is going to be the final draft. It has a weird feel to me, somehow, and as was pointed out to me, it can't stand on its own very well. Still, I hope it is enjoyable, for I put a lot of agony into this one, and if it isn't, it would make me very sad. On a side note, thank you all for reading and for your reviews. I haven't replied to any of them, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate them. I really do. Until next time! -Nat