Disclaimer: Do not own them.
Note: A shirebunny. Dedicated as a birthday gift to my sister, because she loves Éowyn and Elrond. Incidentally, her Yule gift is the Faramir fic, because she also loves him. Though she'd like it better if I put them in a story together. This is movie verse, because….
Summary: What is Éowyn's first impression of Arwen, the woman who had captured Aragorn's heart?
Éowyn had never cared much for beauty. After all, beauty did not defeat the enemy at the point of a sword. She had no recollection of anyone ever telling her she was beautiful. She supposed her mother or father had when she was a child, but it was so long ago that, if so, it had faded from her memory. But it had never bothered her whether others thought her beautiful or not. Only Wormtongue had ever expressed a desire for her, and it was a desire that disgusted her.
Not until the Lord Aragorn had laid eyes on her at Meduseld. He had looked at her in a way no one had ever looked at her in a way no one had ever looked at her before. She had wrongly thought I was desire, and perhaps even love. But when he had left she had never thought that is was because he did not find beauty in her.
And then there had been Faramir. Éowyn knew it was truly love she saw in his eyes. And just that morning he had looked at her in the new yellow gown the sewers had made for her, and called her beautiful. And Éowyn had believed him. That was all that mattered to her now, and she only cared for beauty insofar as Faramir applied the term to her.
But now, gazing for the first time upon the elf-woman that had stolen Aragorn's heart long before Éowyn had ever laid eyes on him, she was reconsidering. She could not believe that compared to this princess, Aragorn did not find her less attractive. How could she have ever thought to compete with this? Aragorn must have thought her wild and barbaric; not at all a lady or a proper queen.
How could she have ever been so silly as to think he wanted her? The thought must not even have crossed his mind. Éowyn wanted to run and hide. She had thought this was over, and that her feelings had been laid to rest since she had met Faramir. But these were not feelings of love and desire, but rather anger; at Aragorn and at herself, and shame.
A hand grasped her own, and she realized Faramir must have sensed her distress.
The shame deepened. How could she even think such things when she had Faramir, who clearly loved her for who she was?
Éowyn steeled herself. She would not let such thoughts cloud her new-found happiness, nor cast a shadow over Faramir's. Today was a day of celebration; one Faramir had waited for his whole life: she would not ruin it.
Éowyn gladly retreated into the cool of the throne-room. The normal summer heat, coupled with blazing mid-day sun, and a dress whose fabric she was certain was made for winter, had left Éowyn thirsty and tired.
Several of the other noble ladies of the city had entered as well, many with their husbands, and a moment later Éowyn realized the Royal Entourage was coming as well.
Faramir had long since abandoned her with a word of apology to assist the King, but he sought her out once more as soon as he stepped into the room. But it was to beckon her forward to his side by the King and his new Queen.
Éowyn fiercely resisted the sudden urge to blush, and instead forced a pleasant smile to her face as she was dutifully introduced to the Lady Arwen.
Court pleasantries were exchanged and then, suddenly, Faramir and Aragorn excused themselves, and Éowyn was left alone with Arwen. She searched vainly for a way out, and found none.
"Please, Lady Éowyn, might you allow me to introduce you to my family?" Éowyn nodded hesitantly a split second before she fully realized what that statement meant.
Elves. The Lady Arwen was an elf; her family were elves. Despite Legolas' presence in the citadel the past months, Éowyn had conveniently found herself too busy to exchange more than the occasional greeting. They had never truly talked, for Éowyn had been too awed by the idea that a figure out of legend was giving her his formal greetings.
She frantically tried to calm herself and pay attention to the Queen's introductions at the same time.
She missed the brothers' names, but it mattered little, for she would never be able to tell them apart. Twins were exceedingly rare in Rohan. So rare, in fact, that Éowyn had never seen a pair before.
"And this is my father, Lord Elrond."
She held out her hand without registering the motion, and was rather surprised when the elf bowed over it. Éowyn managed a curtsy that would have shamed Faramir, but she suddenly seemed to have forgotten proper manners for a situation such as this.
But then, were there actually designated manner for what one did when they met a living legend thousands of years old?
"A pleasure to meet a daughter of Rohan. My people hold great respect for yours. You breed such magnificent horses."
He was obviously trying to help calm her. She suddenly realized Arwen had disappeared.
"Thank you, my lord," she managed to say, without stumbling the words.
He was looking intently at her. Éowyn was suddenly growing hot again, and she was certain her face must be red. Were all elves so intimidating?
"Come and sit down, Lady Éowyn; you seem flushed. Are you feeling well?"
He led her to one of the marble benches along the wall and needlessly helped her to sit. She vaguely registered that he asked a nearby servant for water and the long fingers had wrapped around her wrist with ease born of long practice. Éowyn felt there was something important she should remember, but she couldn't quite recall…
Lord Elrond. Lord Elrond of Rivendell was said to be the greatest healer who lived.
She took a deep breath and then another, and forced herself to calm down.
He pressed a cool glass into her hand. "Drink," he urged. She did, and found the cool liquid helped as much as her deep breaths.
"Better now?" He inquired and took the glass back.
"Yes, thank you my lord. The heat outside…I did not realized how hot I felt. I think the sun was too much."
"No doubt. You must surely have been standing outside for some time, and at mid-day no less. And wearing—is this wool?" He asked as his fingers felt the corner of her sleeve.
"I know not. But it was surely not meant for summer. I am unused to such gowns. We have little need of such formality at Edoras."
He smiled. "Formality need not be characterized by heavy fabrics and coats of mail." He pointed across the room to Faramir and Aragorn, who had just emerged from a side chamber. Faramir had shed his cloak, and Aragorn a good deal more. He was clad only in breeches and a long formal tunic and wore only the King's day circlet upon his brow. "I fear my son is rather unused to such formalities as well."
"He is already 'your son'? I had not thought they were married yet." Éowyn knew it was an impolite inquiry as soon as she said it, but Elrond seemed not to mind.
"He has been 'my son' since he was but a young boy. Did you not know he was raised in Rivendell?"
"Oh, yes, actually. He spoke of it once, but I had not thought—"
Elrond smiled sadly. "His father was killed when he was but two. His mother brought him to me to keep him safe, but he needed a father. It was not long before I loved him as my own."
"Yes, he has that quality about him." She flushed in embarrassment.
"Do not be ashamed; many have loved him. I do not think my daughter was the only one to find him attractive. But he has loved only her."
"I think, perhaps, she will have many more admirers."
"And what of you?"
This time she blushed in embarrassment. "I have only what I need." She glanced towards Faramir. "I am content with that."
"And so, I believe, is he. Lord Faramir told me when we met outside that you have taken an interest in the healing arts."
She nodded. "Yes, I have found much joy in working in the Houses of Healing. The Master Healer has been quite patient in my instruction."
"I should greatly like to tour the Houses."
She smiled, all anxiety forgotten. "I would be happy to show you, my lord. They are truly a wonderful place. I found them very calming during my recovery."
He glanced sharply at her. "You were injured?"
"Yes. I—I fought in the battle, on the Pelannor. My shield arm was broken by a mace. But I recovered quite quickly under the Warden's care."
"I would agree. Greetings, Lord Faramir."
"Lord Elrond," Faramir returned the pleasantries. "Might I steal the Lady Éowyn from you?"
"Of course. I was a great pleasure to have met you, Lady." He bowed to her again.
Faramir led her back towards the King and Queen. "Are you all right now?"
Éowyn glanced sideways. "I thought you hadn't—"
"Noticed?" finished Faramir. "I did, but I knew of no other way to help than to meet the problem straight on. Forgive me?"
"Of course. It was the right thing to do; I thank you."
"Perhaps, then, you would show the Lady Arwen to her apartments?"
Éowyn nodded to the Queen. "I would be delighted."