This is my second attempt at Faramir. My first one isn't satisfactory to my standards anymore, so I hope this one is up to par. Thanks to my reviewers who have commented on it.
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Faramir watched the night sky with great intent, though he was safe and warm inside, and the danger of his travels were outside. He shivered as memories of seeing two of his fellow soldiers fall that night. They were to be buried at dawn and he had not yet come to terms with their passing. He never would be able to come to terms when life was lost. His soul was of poetry and a mournful lament came to his lips, but it passed into the world as a sigh.
Cool, comforting hands found their ways to his shoulders as his wife massaged his worries away for a moment. He leaned in to her touch, but his hand was still on his sword that was leaning against the wall. Eowyn's ministrations stopped and her hand covered his. He looked down at her pale hand touching his tanned, calloused, Ranger's hand. He sighed.
"I cannot let go of the battle." He whispered.
"You do not have to." She replied. She wrapped her arms around his waist. "Just sleep, my husband."
Faramir shook his head. "I will stay here for a while. Sleep, love." He watched her return to their bed and he turned back to the night to pray for his friends' souls and hope for some comfort of his sins.