Fear of Fire, Chapter Nine: Advice
A/N:This chapter doesn't really advance the plot, but my Faramir and Eowyn muses insisted on it being written. Think of it as character development
Warning: Though it doesn't actually occur, sex is discussed in this chapter--a lot.
How do I arrive in these situations?
That was the only thought running through Faramir's head as he allowed Imrahil to escort him up the stairs, doing his best to appear calm and confident even though that was the last thing he felt. Eowyn was behind them, in the center of a herd of giggling ladies jostling each other to whisper in her ear and shooting appraising looks at Faramir. He felt like a hunting dog up for auction--or worse, but more accurate, like a breeding horse being appraised. This could not possibly be more humiliating.
It had all seemed so easy a few weeks ago. Marry Eowyn; have a politically advantageous union, produce heirs, and find a lover of his choice. He had been careful not to think too clearly about the "producing heirs" part, which was well and good as it had helped him keep his sanity thus far. But now, after a complicated ceremony and a long ride from Minas Tirith, he was being escorted to his wedding chamber and the seeds of panic had not only sprouted but had blossomed into a full-blown garden. He was half-heartedly considering making a mad attempt for escape down the next hallway; he was definitely hoping someone had thought to put a good deal of wine in their chambers.
He had actually stayed in the room Imrahil was loaning to them once before, when he was a child. Finduilas had been visiting her old home in the hopes it would improve her ailing health and Faramir had been too young to be comfortable being separated from her. He could not remember the path to these chambers ever having been so long--and that was when walking had been a recent development.
Faramir felt a light sheen of sweat break out on his forehead as they finally reached their destination. He thought that he would be expected to preceed Eowyn into the chamber, so he took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders--and felt a hand take a firm grip on his elbow.
"Let the ladies go in," Imrahil said in a low tone. "I wish to speak with you."
He wants to speak with me now? Mystified, Faramir allowed Imrahil to pull him to one side and watched as the giggling gaggle went past them, catching an exasperated look from Eowyn. He winced, hoping all the ladies managed to escape the chamber unscathed.
"Faramir," Imrahil said in a firm tone as soon as the door had been closed. "There are things we should talk about. It should have been Boromir or Denethor here now, but I hope under the circumstances you will accept me."
Faramir's brain ground to an abrupt halt as he realized what the topic of conversation was going to be. Oh hell... "Yes," he managed to say.
Imrahil's face was set. He seemed to have made up his mind to give this speech, no matter what Faramir thought about the matter. "I do not know what experience you may have had, nor is it my position to ask. But the difference between any women you may have been with before and your wife is the difference between night and day," he said gravely.
Faramir wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond to that, so he cleared his throat and tried to look equally grave. This is not happening...
"The most important thing," Imrahil continued, "is to treat her with respect and tenderness. Eowyn is the sister of a king." Faramir tried to look suitably impressed, while he was mentally screaming Oh, is she? I hadn't noticed. "Now, you may have been told--" and here, finally, Imrahil was beginning to look a little uncomfortable, "that women cannot take pleasure in the act.
Valar spare me... Faramir nodded noncomittally. "This is untrue. Take your time, and allow Eowyn to lead you. You will find her pleasure."
Faramir's whole face was burning. He was not sure how much more good-intentioned advice he could stand. He distracted himself by wondering how the message he was receiving might have been different if Boromir had indeed been delivering it--Boromir probably would have drawn diagrams, or brought along one of his lady "friends" to demonstrate suitable positions...
"And," Imrahil was saying, plowing on even though they were both visibly sweating, "you must let her pleasure come first."
The door to the chamber swung open, and both Faramir and Imrahil jumped. The herd of ladies exited, giving Faramir more and more boldly appraising looks as they glided past. Faramir wondered if he ought to offer to let them examine his teeth and hocks. What have I done to deserve this?
Imrahil was talking again. "A woman's...a woman is a sacred gift and you must treat her as such. She will be....inexperienced, Faramir, she will expect it to hurt. You must make her trust you, show her that you love her."
Imrahil's words were spilling out of him faster and faster, and Faramir thought he wouldn't be mistaken in assuming his uncle had consumed a few stiff drinks before attempting this speech. He could take no more. "Thank you, Uncle," he interrupted. Imrahil looked startled. "I--I thank you. I do love Eowyn. I should go in to her now, I don't want to leave her alone."
"Is there anything you want to ask me, Faramir?" Imrahil asked, seeming sincerely concerned.
If someone had ever told Faramir that one day Imrahil would stand before him, offering to candidly answer anything Faramir might want to know about sex, Faramir would have escorted that person to bed and instructed them to see a healer. "No, thank you, I--" Oh gods. Faramir swallowed. "I think I know what to do. "
Imrahil nodded, looking relieved, and gave Faramir a manly clap on the shoulder. "I wish you and your bride the best of luck, then," he said, and made his escape down the stairs.
Faramir stared after him blankly for a full minute before realizing that he still had to go into his chambers. Aragorn makes this "arrangement" look so easy...
Aragorn. Not the best subject to dwell on at the moment. And the faded blue and gold tapestry he was currently engaged in staring at was not likely to offer any advice either. Not allowing himself to think it through any farther, Faramir strode purposefully into the room.
Eowyn appeared to have been engaged in rearranging the small pillows scattered around their room; she looked up with wide eyes when he entered, a soft green one clutched in her hands. "What kept you?"
Faramir swallowed, trying to get some moisture into his dry mouth. "Imrahil wanted to...offer me some advice."
Both of Eowyn's eyebrows shot towards her hairline. "Advice?"
Faramir nodded, trying not to meet her eyes. Eowyn was having none of it. "What sort of advice?"
Faramir shrugged awkwardly. "He...what he thought Boromir or Denethor would have said if they were still alive."
"And what did he think they would have said?" Eowyn demanded.
Faramir finally met her eyes. "Eowyn, don't make this any more difficult than it already is," he begged.
Eowyn's demeanor softened immediately. "You're right," she said softly, pressing a hand to her temple. "I am sorry. It's just that--those ladies." She flicked her hands outwards. "It was difficult to listen to everything they said but I shouldn't take it out on you."
Faramir shook his head hurriedly. "Pay it no mind."
There was a long, awkward silence. Neither of them made a move towards the other. Faramir cleared his throat. "Is there wine?"
Eowyn smiled shrewdly. "Trying to get drunk?"
"Yes," Faramir answered candidly.
"It's in the bedroom."
"Oh."
"Faramir--we're going to have to eventually," Eowyn said, with the air of one announcing they would eventually have to muck out the sewers. "We might as well now."
"Right." Faramir swallowed, gathering his courage to move towards his wife. He put his arms around Eowyn's waist and began to kiss her, trying to create a mood. Eowyn responded dutifully, but there was no thrill in it. Faramir let his mind wander, seeking desperately for something, anything, that would help him through this night.
Instantly, his mind was invaded by the memory of last night--Aragorn's hands, his beard, his tongue--the way he smelled and tasted. Faramir winced and vainly tried to block the memory. This was Eowyn that he held in his arms now--Eowyn, whose hair smelled like heather from her soap, not like athelas from healing. Eowyn, whom he had to lean down to kiss, not up.
Eowyn, whom he loved, but not in any manner that counted tonight.
Faramir stopped kissing and Eowyn pulled back quickly, seeming relieved. Faramir cocked his head. "Eowyn. May I ask you a question?"
Eowyn nodded. "What is it?"
"Would you mind growing a beard?"
Eowyn blinked twice, then burst out laughing. "Yes, if you will shave yours," she replied between the giggles.
"Faithfully, every morning," Faramir promised. "And...what else might I do for my lady?" he asked mischievously. Humor might just be the way through this.
Eowyn paused to consider. "I do not think you would look very good with your hair grown out. Perhaps you could pitch your voice higher?"
"Like this?" Eowyn nearly cried with laughter--Faramir could not help laughing either at the veritable squeak that had come out. "No, like this?" Now he sounded like a little boy.
"Yes, that's be--I mean, yes," Eowyn said, suddenly dropping her voice as low as she could.
Faramir burst out laughing. "You sound like Eomer with a head cold."
Eowyn grinned. "Perhaps I should carry you to the bed?" she asked in the same ridiculous tone.
Faramir raised his eyebrows. "Can you?"
Seconds later Faramir found himself tossed over his wife's shoulder, Eowyn humming to herself as she headed for the bedroom. He should have known better than to doubt her strength. She didn't quite manage to toss him onto the bed--it was more like an awkward roll--but she straddled him immediately afterwards. "How am I doing?"
"Very well. But those," Faramir said with a mock frown, indicating her breasts, "will never do."
"I strap them down while I'm riding," Eowyn said carelessly. "I can do it in here just as easily."
Faramir rolled his eyes. "I doubt I'll be deceived."
"Hush," Eowyn said firmly. "We're doing the best we can."
Faramir smiled and kissed her again. "Indeed we are, my lady."