Good luck with University there...I'm sorry if I'm hurting the learning process at all. But I DO know what you mean; I myself have trouble keeping my mind on schoolwork when in the middle of a good story...
To Lady Elwen Iluvalatari
Thank you for your long review! Yes, I am attempting to draw a parallel between their world and ours, in that sense. I wanted to incorporate certain themes into my story---you'll see which as it progresses. I also know that they did not worship Eru Iluvatar, but I needed a God for them to worship, and somehow I don't think Tolkien would have left them without one...so in short, I picked Eru to serve my purposes. By the way...if anyone can tell me how the people of Middle Earth were married, I will be very greatful, because that's always bothered me.
And no...as far as I know Calengurth isn't a real snake. I mean, it might be...but I seriously doubt it, because I made it up:-D Calen means green and gurth means death. So yeah;-)
To wader321
Darn! That was a really good idea. If I was still writing the story, I would have used that:-( However, the story's all done now, and I can't change it. But thanks for the suggestion!
Many thanks to all my reviewers.
"These things I remember
as I pour out my soul:
how I used to go with the multitude,
leading the procession to the house of
God,
with shouts of thanksgiving
among the festive throng."
-Psalms 42:4
The funeral was scheduled for a week after she died, and immediately heralds went out. Eomer was, of course, summoned, and the nobility of Minis Tirith were all to attend. My uncle and kin in Dol Amroth were notified; plans were made all round to come.
Throughout that week and the next few to come, I walked and worked as a man in a dream. Well, more like a nightmare, I suppose. I did not sleep much at all, for sleep brought dreams. I have always been plagued by dreams, and I cannot recall having worse dreams in my life. Oh, they were very happy, filled with light and memories of my Éowyn, of course. But the pain of waking to the reality became so acute that I barely slept at all. I never touched the bed, and slept only on a couch in my library.
My uncle was the first to arrive. I could see the pain written all over Imrahil's face when he came through the door to my study, and he immediately clasped me to himself. I knew at once he was grieving more for me than for any other reason.
"Faramir," he said gently. "I'm so sorry."
I have always felt like a child when my uncle is near. In fact, he has the same effect on me that my father had, only in a different way. With father, it was fear and inferiority; with Uncle Imrahil it was vulnerability and sadness. And as he held me, tears rolled down my face. I couldn't stop them, nor did I want to. After that first day I had managed to keep my emotions held tightly inside of me, squished in there for when I was alone and I could weep when none would see. But I could always show my grief to my uncle.
"Uncle," was all I managed to whisper, and his arms hugged me tighter. "She was..."
"I know," he said, even gentler than before. "I know." I felt something wet on my head, and I realized I was seeing Imrahil cry. This---this I had never experienced. You must understand that Imrahil was not unfeeling, nor a man that did not have deep emotions. But he never cried. I can just stretch my memory back to when my mother died and remember that he did not weep. When Boromir and my father died, he did not shed a tear. But now, when my world had finally collapsed, my uncle wept.
"What do I do?" I asked, pulling away slightly. "How do I piece back together a world?"
Imrahil sighed. "I felt just the same when your aunt died, Faramir. How was I to live once more?" He pulled me toward himself and put a hand on each of my shoulders. "Your children. Your country. The rest of your family. We all need you."
I shrugged. "Don't get too close, uncle. I seem to have a bad effect on my family. They're all dead."
I cannot describe to you the incredible sadness in my uncle's gaze at that moment, but I can tell you it was a mirror of my own eyes. He whispered, "Sweet Eru!" and pulled me to himself again. After a few seconds he let go and said, "Faramir, listen to me." I looked up at him. "It's not your fault, son. I don't know why, for Eru's sake I don't know why this is happening to you, but please, please let us help you. You can cry on our shoulders."
See what I mean about my uncle? But perhaps he is just more like Boromir in that respect.
What I would give to be like them.
The next to arrive were the King and Queen. Aragorn and I had always been friends, but never anything close. And Queen Arwen was beautiful beyond mortal's compare---except for my sweet Éowyn. I dreaded greeting them.
They entered the room quietly, dressed all in black. Arwen immediately came over to me and took my hands, unspoken pity in her eyes. She kissed my cheek quietly, whispering, "Met dim le." (We grieve with you.)
I nodded, replying, "Hannon le." (Thank you)
Aragorn also came over and shook my hand. His clear gray eyes were filled with sadness, and he said, "Do not blame yourself."
Do not blame yourself? Why did everyone say that? The answer came to me at once: Because they know you, and they know you are blaming yourself. Nevertheless, I wanted to say, "And what do you know about blame? About loss? Well?!"
But I didn't. I simply said, "Thank you for coming, my King."
The next arrivals were Lothíriel and Eomer. This arrival was the greatest feared of all. Lothíriel was a wonderful woman (my cousin, in fact) but she was too...womanly? Any woman at this point was too womanly. Every time I saw their eyes they morphed into my beautiful wife---my dead wife.
I didn't even know they had arrived until Lothíriel came running into the room, flinging herself at me and sobbing. At that point I was beginning to grasp my emotions and come to grips with this (at least for the moment) and there had been no fresh tears for at least two days. At nighttime I would merely stand at the window and stare at the moon. If there was no moon, I turned my gaze to the sky and contented myself with that. Anyway, her tears fell onto my clothes and I struggled anew to keep my emotions in check.
"Oh cousin, cousin!" she wept, "I'm so sorry!"
I put my arms around her too. "Thank you, Thíri," I said. Her scent was beginning to irk me; it was too much like Éowyn's.
"We came as soon as we heard. Oh, I cannot believe it!" she whispered.
My senses were being filled with her. I couldn't push her away, but I couldn't stand to have a woman this close! "Yes," I gulped.
Mercifully, she pulled away somewhat and put a hand to my face. "You're taking this well, Far. I'm so glad to see that." Then she wiped her eyes a touch. "Where are the children?"
I gestured to the left. "In the nursery."
Lothíriel nodded and hugged me again. "I'll go to them. Eomer will be in soon," she went on. "He's taking it pretty hard." And then she left.
I sank into a chair, my legs unable to support me anymore. Never again, I thought, will I ever be able to touch a woman.
I was still recovering when there was a knock on the door. I wiped my face and called, "Come in!"
I do not know exactly what I expected from Eomer. Perhaps I thought he would come in with accusations and threats. Perhaps it was a beating I expected. Eomer and I had never, I must say, gotten on. Because his sister was all I ever dreamed of did not seem to make us kindred spirits, but he saw how happy we made each other, and accepted me. I always secretly thought he looked on me as a weakling, and I was surprised when he took Lothíriel, my gentle cousin, as a wife. In any case, the closest we ever got to brotherhood was "Take care of my sister or I'll kill you."
The door swung open, and Eomer entered. He was dressed all in black, like the rest of us, and I was again reminded of his swarthy and tall stature. But something about him took my breath away, and I struggled to figure out what it was. He looked at me with piercing eyes and shut the door.
"Brother," he said, holding out his hand. I put mine into it and we clasped hands.
Brother. When was the last time someone called me that? I recalled briefly how I had struggled for so long after my brother and father's deaths. Just when I'd gotten over them and accepted them, another tragedy struck my life. How ironic. But...brother. I never thought of Eomer as a brother. I was married to his sister, and he to my cousin, so we are truly brothers in all but blood.
"Eomer," I answered. "It's good to see you."
"But not for this reason," he murmured, seating himself on a stiff chair. He seemed ill at ease, as if he was not accustomed to formal matters. I wondered in my mind whether he found it difficult to accept a death so close that he could not avenge. In any case, he put a hand up to his brow and then looked at me, long and hard. "You have not slept," he finally said.
I shrugged. "I do not need it."
Eomer looked as if he would like to address that issue, but thankfully let it go. For a long time we were silent, and then Eomer leaned back. "Faramir," he began.
Here it comes, I thought.
"I just want to tell you that...you were the best thing that ever happened to my sister. Without you she would have despaired and died," he finished.
I stared at him. Never, never had Eomer said anything so genial to me before. "Thank you," I said awkwardly. Then I sighed deeply. "Eomer, I think we got off on the wrong foot."
He managed a small grin. "I admit I was a bit reluctant to let my sister go."
I nodded. "And I never tried to be your friend either." Something twisted in my stomach, Did she have to die for you to become friends? I asked myself.
But Eomer stood up and said, "Believe me, Faramir---I respect you more than any other man."
I stood too. Can you make a brother out of this man? the voice asked. Can you find comfort in each other? "I'm so sorry about..." I swallowed and tried to get the words out; I failed.
Eomer nodded, not needing to hear them. "She loved you more than life," he said. "There is nothing to regret."
Then we hugged...as brothers.