Note: Thanks to all who read and reviewed! I had no idea anyone would like my story this much! Thanks to all those who gave their suggestions to make the story better! I shall do my best! (Thanks also to Sir Fuzzalot who intends to review every single chapter…That's very considerate.) –Kero.
Chapter 4: I Bring Thee Healing
Later that night, Éowyn undid her sling and removed the bandages and splints, and moved her arm to test its strength. She then gingerly put on a dressing gown and took the candle with her and went out into the hall. She noticed that Merry's room was still lit through a crack under the door. There was also laughter. Leave it to Hobbits to be so cheery at a time such as this, thought Éowyn with a smile. She gave the door a knock and Merry opened it.
"Hullo milady," smiled the Hobbit. "Can you not sleep either?"
"Nay, 'tis impossible to sleep when one is restless. I heard laughter and thought perhaps I might join you?" Éowyn noticed there was a boy inside the room. Merry introduced him as Bergil the son of Beregond, who followed Faramir into battle. They heartily welcomed her inside and shared their little hoard of salted pork and sweet meats with her. These were courtesy of the child's mother. The two did not take heed that she was wrapped in a dressing gown but they did grant the lady the use of the chair, rather, and they sat cross-legged on the floor. Merry was just recounting what he remembered of the fight with the Witch King, but the way the Hobbit told it, the tale was much less terrifying and the truth was a little stretched. Merry's silhouette against the fire place was gesturing this way and that as he recounted the tale. Éowyn could not help but smile at the story teller and the wide-eyed boy who clearly admiring the Hobbit and the Lady in front of him.
"Merry, Milady, I think you two are by far two of the uncommonly bravest people I have ever met in person," praised the child. Merry laughed out loud and chewed another piece of salted pork.
"That's what Lord Faramir said to me earlier. He said that though I was small, I was capable of great things, and that the Lady Éowyn was brave and true, beyond all expectation, if I recall his words correctly."
"You spoke to Lord Faramir today?" asked Éowyn, trying to hide her interest in the subject.
"Aye, Lady, and he asked a great deal about me as an esquire of Rohan, and about you as well. He seemed particularly interested in what I had to say about you."
"I hope you were fair in the telling then, Master Meriadoc," said Éowyn feigning sternness in her voice.
"Nothing but the truth, Lady. You truly are the bravest woman I have ever met," said the Hobbit with pride. Éowyn blushed and thanked her friend. "And you are one of the bravest and most foolhardy person I have ever met, even among the Rohirrim. I was pleasantly surprised when I found that Halflings were so stout of heart. When all the king's men had fled in terror or madness by the creature, you and I were perhaps the only fools to stay. But stay by me you did. I could not have slain the Witch King without your assistance, Merry." Now it was Merry's turn to blush. He had never befriended a lady of such noble stature before, but he found her company pleasant like any other hobbit.
When Éowyn went back to her room after a few hours of that company her thoughts turn unexpectedly again to Faramir and why he would be so interested in her. Did he wish to court her even though the first time they met she was horrid in both temper and in appearance? The thought of her approaching him, the Steward of Gondor, in her mightiest tone almost made her laugh in spite of herself. What a sight she must have been. Still, he was so attentive to her and so interested in what she had to say. She wondered if this was part of the Gondorian courtship ritual. Courtship in Rohan was a mystery to her as well. She herself had never been courted.
In her uncle's day, Edoras hardly ever held court, and even then, no ladies were present. Indeed, the court was sparsely populated in Theóden's day, and throughout Éowyn's life. What she had seen of courtship was sometimes behind a curtain, or in a wooded area behind the city, and even then her study was not long. As a member of the royal house, she mostly kept indoors and to herself when she was not playing with Theódred or Éomer. Not many came near her for perhaps they felt sorry for her demise, but her uncle was her friend and of course her cousin and brother. Her nurse was her only friend when the men were gone, but then she left and returned to her village. Of course, she had no interest in courtship now or ever. Not with Lord Aragorn and her brother missing.
She had planned for herself a glorious death to rid her of any shame she might have felt when Lord Aragorn refused her, but that too was not to be. Courtship was the last thing on her mind right now. Her inner turmoil began to resolve itself when she realized she was glad for the friendship of Merry and Faramir at a time like this. The feeling set her at ease again and she finally drifted off to sleep.
The next day, Éowyn dressed in the simple blue gown with the help of Ranna, who was displeased that she had taken off the splints, but did not bother replacing them since the lady's arm seemed to be mending nicely and the bruises were gone. Godorian healers added salves to open wounds that promoted healing and bone growth. To Éowyn's surprise, the moment her feet left the chamber they took her immediately to the gardens though that was not the original intended destination.
As it was in the morning before, the gardens were empty as the sun had just barely come back to this side of the world. Faramir was also not there. To her surprise, she found herself looking out to the East by the eastern wall of the gardens but also waiting for Faramir to come and feeling disappointed that he was not present.
The scene to the East was the same as ever; gloomy, foreboding and evil. The shadow continued to loom over all of the White City. From what Faramir said of Boromir's quest, and from what Merry said of his cousin Frodo and friend Samwise, Éowyn gathered that Gandalf was indeed hiding a secret but she did not know what it was. She was pondering this secret when she heard the soft footsteps of Faramir behind her. From the brief friendship they had made together, Éowyn knew the man enough to know that not only did he speak carefully but he also tread carefully. She wondered if this was due to his father.
Faramir was dressed in a new dark blue tunic and in a dark velvet cloak lined with fur that made him appear much more regal than before. From his gait, she could tell that his wounds were healing, and he stood a bit straighter, and walked with a bit more determination. She dropped a curtsey, as she was now physically capable of doing so.
"Nay, my Lady, there is no need for such formality. Let us be again as we were yesterday and be at ease in one another's company," he said gently. So they stood there by the Eastern wall of the garden, looking out into the bleak future. The did not speak but stood close without touching. Éowyn again thought of the Lord Aragorn and her brother. She hoped they were still alive. Then, she came out of her silent prayers and looked at Faramir. He too was staring out to the East but she could not tell what he was thinking. He looked unhappy and she felt that the frown he was wearing did not suit him.
Éowyn breached the silence this time and asked him to tell her a bit about Gondorian history. She felt that the conversation would be diverting for the both of them, as opposed to brooding at the Eastern horizon. As she suspected, being the Steward's son meant that one had to be learned, but Faramir was even more so for he enjoyed learning and reading and had often visited the underground vaults containing age old knowledge. Mithrandir himself had at times tutored the younger Faramir in understanding the ancient writings. His countenance brightened as he told of what he knew, which was impressive. She almost wished that she had paid more attention to the Gondorian stories when she was a child, but it was entertaining watching Faramir as he told the stories anew to her. He told of their descent from the great Númenorians and the history which led to the last king and first Steward of Gondor. At noon, servants brought them bread and cheese and wine and they sat and ate as Éowyn listened and Faramir spoke of the Stewards and his House.
"Well, if you are descendants of the Númenorians, then where do they come from, I wonder? Our lore does not go so far back in memory and time," sighed Éowyn. Faramir, perhaps sensing something of what she felt then asked her about her country and its lore. To that Éowyn faithfully recounted some of her favorite stories, such as that of Eorl the Young and Helm Hammerhand.
"Do not your people sing those tales?" asked Faramir.
"Yes, for we do not often use our written language, but in song the tales are easily remembered, and the lore is always told in the old tongue. Only recently in my grandfather's day did we begin recording our knowledge in written Rohirric."
"Can you not sing a ballad for me?" he asked quietly. To this, she actually laughed a bit. He looked up when he heard the sound of her heart-felt laughter and found it quite to his liking.
"I'd rather you did not insist," she said, looking down at her feet. "I do not presume that I am any good at singing and I would not have you feeling disappointed after the performance."
"Please?" he asked gently.
She looked at him and his face was so eager that she had to look away. This was a fair enough exchange, after all, as Faramir had told her so much of his own people. Éowyn cleared her throat and began the first lines of the lay of Eorl. Her voice was soft at first, but as she remembered more of the tune her voice rang clearer and it slightly echoed against the garden walls. Faramir listened as if entranced and the look on his face told her that he was enjoying it thoroughly. When she finished, he did not ask her to sing again, but was silent as if he was committing the sound of her voice to memory. Again, they walked to the eastern wall and stood in silence without touching.
"If it please you, my lord," Éowyn said after a little while, "could you tell me about the lore of the origins of Númenorians?" To this he agreed and he told her about the One who was called Eru and his followers who helped him created Middle Earth and who later became the Valar. Éowyn listened entranced by such a tale of gods and monsters. She could tell that he was enamored of the Elves, but he did not know very much about their history as Elves did not share it with humans. When she learned of how the dwarves were said to be created, she immediately thought of Gimli, Gloin's son, whom she admired and counted among her new friends. He was grumpy to those who knew him not, but very kind and humorous to those who did. The first time she saw him, she liked him immediately. She told this to Faramir and he was fascinated that she had actually met a dwarf and befriended him.
"The elves are indeed fair," she continued. "Legolas Greenwood of the Woodland Realm is actually a prince as Gimli explained it to me. There has always been a rivalry between the Elves and the Dwarves though, as Gimli explained that some dwarven ancestors were slain by an Elven noble over something called a silmaril, although I did not pretend to know what that is. But now as you have described it, it must be some sort of jewel created by the gods and the elves. Legolas intervened at that point in our conversation and said the dwarves were slain in self defense because the power of the jewel made the dwarves covet it and moved them to slay its Elven master. Whatever story is right, the rivalry ensued and there is rivalry still between the two. But the rivalry between Legolas and Gimli seem mostly in jest. I am amazed that after such a long history of hatred between the kins that they two are friends. They both follow Lord Aragorn so faithfully…." Her voice trailed off and she suddenly wished that she had not mentioned that name. Again, Faramir sensed her distress at the mention of Lord Aragorn, his own king and savior.
"I am amazed Lady that you have met an elf. I have not been so lucky in my life," Faramir said quietly. Not noticing that Faramir purposefully changed the subject, she continued, "Yes, indeed. Legolas is fair to the eye, and if I may say, I think the elves sort of…well, glow. There is such an illumination of the spirit that you cannot help but stare in wonder that perhaps it is a trick of the light, or that your eyes deceive you. Gimli tried to describe the beauty of Lady Galadriel to me, but he could not find the right words. As your stories tell, they are much favored by the gods and blessed with beauty as well as immortality. Though there is something beyond my ken that is beheld in their eyes, and it is something that awes me, yet makes me sad to see it. Legolas did mention to me once the Long Defeat, but I did not know of which defeat he was speaking. I would imagine that it had something to do with the elves leaving Middle Earth now, and we will never see them again when they have gone." She sighed. "To me, that is indeed sad."
"It is men who shall inherit Middle Earth, Gandalf said to me once." He too sighed at the irony. "I have never even seen an elf and already they are leaving."
"Perhaps it is best that we do not know too much about them. From what you say in your tales, it was envy of immortality that brought the downfall of Númenor. When I was young, my nurse told me once that envy was a great fault, and that we should do the best with what we have."
"That was indeed a wise woman who raised you, then," said Faramir. "I marvel at your wisdom, my Lady."
"I am not so very wise, Lord Faramir. Though envy is a fault, I am afraid there are none who can resist it," she said with a sigh. "I did not heed her words." Her thoughts then turned to one she had never seen, nor had the honor of making the acquaintance. "They say that the Lady Evenstar has an ethereal beauty." She was silent for a long moment. "Do you know the tale of Béren and Lúthien?" He nodded.
"Will you not tell it to me?" Faramir observed her countenance and he became aware of the reasons why the lady wished to know. He hoped the story would not wound what was left of her pride.