Sorry that the breaks in the previous chapter didn't work. I'm going to revise it and replace the breaks with (A). For Some reason, the breaks never work for me on Fanfiction, so I apologize. Another apology: this chapter felt a little weak to me. Tell me what you think, and if you agree, I'm sorry in advance.

This chappie will be organized a little differently than the last two, because I'm not getting much of the story told very quickly as it is.

I thought I'd mention that this is unrelated to my other stories, even though I use the same name for Faramir's horse as I do in those. I just like that name for his horse, and that's the way I see her.

Chapter Three: Small Revelations

Faramir smiled as he looked around the room. Was it truly possible to be more content in a country so far from home than one was at home? It was so fair here. It was so peaceful, like there wasn't anything to fear—even the East.

And he couldn't help but associate the fair lady with this beauty.

He sighed. He didn't know what drew him to her, but it was something inexorable. He could tell as she spoke to him, and as she spoke to that odd man behind her, that her spirit was strong and could not be crushed. Yet, too he could see in her eyes that for all the steel she wore on her heart, she would not crush either. She was truly a strong woman to have such strength but to not use it without caution.

He walked over to the window and pushed the curtain back slowly. The wind blew swiftly yet caressingly over the plains, causing that beautiful ripple that made the land sparkle. He didn't know how long he stood there, staring out the window at the land.

A sudden knock drew him from his reverie, and he turned calling, "enter!"

An old woman obeyed his order, opening the door—followed by three men carrying a small copper tub. With a harsh voice the woman instructed the men in where to place the tub. The language was rough, yet somehow fair. Five men followed them and poured steaming water into the tub. Then the woman turned and smiled at him. In Common, she said, "Your bath is ready, milord. Lady Eowyn has just gone to see to your dinner. I believe that Gritta will be up with that soon, milord. If there is ought that you need, do not hesitate to alert someone. I believe that you shall not have difficulty finding someone." Another missing-toothed smile later, Faramir was alone again. Sighing, he approached the tub. It would definitely be nice to feel warm water again. After the several days that he had spent on the road, he knew that he probably looked a mess.

Shortly after he had dressed again, another knock rang against the door. This time, it was a pretty young woman, probably twenty-one, entered. She smiled softly and shyly, and set the tray that she bore on the table. Gritta, Faramir remembered. Her name was Gritta. Her hair was pulled into a plait and wrapped around her head. Her blue dress and brown shift were surprisingly simple. Most of the chambermaids that Faramir had seen had been rather well dressed—probably to keep the nobles' minds off of the presence of poverty.

As she closed the door, Faramir lifted the lid of the bowl and smiled at the smell of the broth. He sat down and began to eat. His brother's face suddenly drifted into his mind, and he wondered where he was now. Was he happy? He hoped that he wasn't worried. After all, Faramir could take care of himself. There was nothing to be worried about. He was fine.

Yet, he himself worried about his brother. It was not because he thought that Boromir couldn't take care of himself, he just feared that something would go wrong, and he wouldn't be there to help his brother. Or that Boromir was unhappy about something. Something out of his control. Whatever it was. It didn't matter. Faramir always feared for his brother.

I guess that's just the way brothers are. Always irrationally worrying about the other one, and always wondering why his brother was worried about him.

Shaking his head and smiling, he got up and walked over to the window again, it was now sunset, and he was tired. He decided that he would explore the city on the morrow. He would see it's golden beauty in full in the golden light of the noon sun. Now, he would rest. He had brought one book—one that he didn't think that his father would notice missing due to its lesser value—so perhaps he would read that for a short time. It was always nice to read shortly before sleep. It left much to mull over that one did not turn to thoughts of one's own life, which seemed irrelevant and dull in comparison.

But he remained at the window until the sun disappeared beyond the mountains. He stayed there even until the twilight had receded, and the moon had risen. He spent this time in a thoughtless reverie. He thought of nothing in particular. This was a freedom to him. To have nothing, if even only for such a short time, to occupy his thoughts and worries. Though he knew that it would not last.

As he drifted off into sleep, he remembered the strange man who had told him to return home. Such a strange character.

I hope I won't be seeing him again anytime soon.

(A)

What was the point of her doing this? Was it just because she wanted some peace and quiet, in a place where no one could reach her? Or was it because no one, namely the Snake, could reach her? Disappearing for the entire morning had become a habit of hers, and no one knew what she did during that time. They did not know that if they went to the market, they would find her there. They could not know. She kept any evidence of her interest in the common market to herself.

Breathing the clean morning air in, she smiled slightly to herself. For the next five hours, she would not have to fear anything. She would be a young woman named Lynet, and no one would question such.

"Milady, where do you go?"

Eowyn spun around and her joy sank. Who could have found her? She never left at the same time in the morning, so that no one could pinpoint when she had left. So how had they managed it?

But it was only the newcomer. Lord Faramir.

"Milord, what are you doing here so early?"

"One might ask the same of you, Milady."

"I…I…" she sputtered.

"I wished only to see my mare, Silivren, if my answering makes it easier for you to answer," Faramir said.

"What makes you think that I am not here doing the same thing?"

"Nothing in particular. I never said that you weren't."

"Oh, well. I…I…I suppose…I suppose I was going to see to one of the horses."

Faramir just raised one of his eyebrows.

"Well, if you'll excuse me…" and she started to leave.

He followed her.

"Why are you following me?"

"I'm going to the stables also, which direction do you expect me to go?"

Eowyn hesitated, for she dearly wished to maintain her privacy in the matter, and did not wish for any to know where she went, but she realized quickly that she had little choice in the matter.

"Very well, Milord. You've caught me. I actually have some rather private business to attend to in town, and I would rather no one know of it. The stables are that way. Farewell for now, Milord. Perhaps we will see one another later this day."

So, now someone knew about her trips to the town. Knew where she was going, and probably would be able to catch her going there again. She was saddened by this. As though she had lost some of the mystery of going to the town every morning.

It was also strange that though many tried, only a complete stranger actually found her. Was it chance? Or did it mean something more than an accidental crossing of paths.

Don't be silly, she thought to herself. What on earth could it mean? Yet she couldn't shake the distinct impression that something had drawn their paths together that morning. As though he was bound to discover her, and she was destined to tell him the truth.

I think I will stay in my rooms this morning, to avoid future confrontation with him. She decided determinedly.

(A)

As he left the Lady Eowyn, he suddenly regretted that he only had two days here. It would not be enough time to really understand the lady, as he really wished to. Somehow, in finding her there, he felt as though he had divulged a greater secret than had been stated, and he was intrigued. He wondered what her business may be, but refused to ask her. It was her private affair, and he would not pry.

Yet he could not help but be drawn into the Lady. Who was she? Her face was so grave, yet he saw deep in her eyes a joy that was not false this morning. To expose that joy more readily and more completely would be a task, yet he felt it must be done.

Surely you do not think yourself the one to take this task on? He chided himself. No, he could not declare himself the one, though he for some strange reason wanted to.

Just because of mother, he convinced himself. I want her to smile because I failed in making mother smile. I feel it is my obligation to have every sorrowing soul smile again. But it is not. I cannot help such things.

Though I do not wish her to die as mother did…

That was enough. He decided. No more thinking upon the Lady. He was tired of arguing with himself over her.

He didn't even know why he bothered, either. It was hardly his right to enter her life on a whim and ask her to smile. Not even hardly. It was not his right at all. He was rather ashamed of himself. He did not even know anything about her. She seemed stern to him, but her cousin had just died and her only other family had left her alone with a very strange man—whom Faramir could not but hope he would not run into—as well as many responsibilities. Of course she was stern. It was not probably the best time of her life. Certainly not a period based upon which he should judge her whole life, even if he had known her for more than a half a day.

Yet something told him in his heart that this was all she had left. She could no longer smile. She didn't know how.

So if she can't? he wondered again. He couldn't seem to get it off his mind, despite his desperate attempts.

Then it is none of my business, he told himself, hopefully for the last time.

What if I'm the only one who can see the truth? I'm the only one who can see that she is alone in the world just like me?

He reprimanded himself for thinking such silly thoughts. As though he was the only one who could possibly truly understand her! As though he did understand her in the least!

Yet the question went completely unanswered.

Entering the stables, Faramir finally realized completely just what it was that he had been about to do. If he dared to try to help Eowyn, it would mean only destruction for himself. In order to gain her trust, he would have to trust her.

And he couldn't do that.

No. There were suddenly too many reasons why he could not, under any circumstances, help her. In fact, to remain as far away from her as possible would perhaps be the best thing to do. If Faramir could name only one thing that he had learned from his father, it was to never show anybody that he did not fully trust with his entire heart. Who he really was. Only his brother could possibly come close to seeing him for himself. Yet even Boromir didn't know half of it. No. To assume that Eowyn would understand him was almost as bad as assuming that he could understand her. Or worse.

Silveren neighed when she saw Faramir, and he drew himself out of his reverie finally. Indeed. He would pay his respects to the King in two days time, and then he would leave. Never would he think upon the Lady Eowyn again.