"Leaving?" Eowyn could not help the tears that sprang to her eyes, and she threw herself on her brother. "Can we not have no more war?"
"This will be the last great battle," Eomer said seriously, brushing her long hair behind her ear.
She took his face in her hands, eyes searching his. "Eomer, why do you sound so...so final?"
"If we lose this battle, all battles will be lost. Sauron will conquer all of Middle Earth and destroy it. I will be dead. You will be a slave."
"I will die first," she said coldly.
He took her hands in his and pressed his lips to the back of them.
"I cannot lose you," she told him. "I could not bear it. I have already lost my dear uncle, who truly was like a father to me." Her speaking became choked with sobs as her back shook. "You must not die. I cannot live without you."
"I hope you shall not have to," he whispered.
She stood very stiff, face more pale than usual, among the throngs gathered to say farewell to the army. There was a nervousness in the air, but it seemed to be allayed as Aragorn burst out on a bay horse, clad in bright armor glinting in the sun. Her eyes shone to see him, and she felt perhaps everything would be alright.
She slipped forward until she stood in front of most everyone, peering over the shoulder of the man in front of her, watching Aragorn as he rode along the path. He was the image of hope.
Somehow, she wished she was more inspired. Instead, she felt a great heaviness in her heart. She would likely never see him again.
"Aragorn," she whispered.
Somehow, above the clomping hooves, he heard her.
He looked at her and the tears in her eyes sparkled for him. Her lips trembled.
"I shall see you again," he told her. "Farewell, Eowyn." His smile was soft and gallant. "You will be looked after." He nodded at the man in front of her and she looked up and realized this man was looking at her now with bright blue eyes and a handsome face. She knew him from the Houses of Healing; the man who had stared at her, long and deep, that one evening.
"Do not fear, Lady Eowyn," he said, taking her hand. "As steward of Minas Tirith, you shall be safe."
Aragorn had passed on and she turned from the steward to look after Eomer. He raised his hand to her, and she found her own was still held in the steward's grasp.
She pulled it away, memories of Grima Wormtongue returning with an unpleasant suddenness. This man was certainly handsomer than Grima, but if his devices were similar, she would cut off his hand. She was not the fearful maiden she had been before.
She had fought in a desperate battle for the man she had loved, she had smitten the Witch King and suffered for it.
No, no man would ever be able to conquer the White Lady of Rohan.
As the rest of the army continued to flood past, she gave the steward a stern look and turned, threading her way through the crowd and away.
She was just ready for supper later that night, sitting in her room, expectant it would be brought up shortly.
The knock came at the door, and she went and opened it for the servant girl.
"Thank you, Loriel," she said kindly, taking the cup and bowl from the young woman.
Another shadow appeared in the doorway and Eowyn stepped back upon recognizing the steward.
Loriel curtsied before him and turned to go and Eowyn longed to call out to her, beg the girl not to leave her alone with this man. But no words would come from her throat.
"Please stay, Loriel," said the steward in a kind voice.
His tone and request caught Eowyn by surprise, but surely it was pleasant, nonetheless.
She remained on her guard and nodded gravely to him.
"Forgive me for the intrusion, my Lady," he said gently. "I beg you to eat, for I only wish to speak to you for a moment."
"I shall wait until you are finished, if you permit, my lord." She remained standing before him.
He made no move to enter her chamber, leaning against the doorway.
"Then I shall not trouble you for long." His smile, which had been playing on his lips, died suddenly and he almost frowned, though his eyes remained kind. "I hope the White Lady of Rohan does not fear me. I am Faramir, son of the late steward Denethor, and King Aragorn has placed me as steward of Minas Tirith in his short absence. When he returns, he will resume the throne here."
His words did a good deal to relieve her of much hesitation and she allowed him a small smile that by no means reached her eyes.
"Thank you, lord Faramir, for introducing yourself. I do hope Aragorn shall return."
"He shall," said Faramir gallantly. "And so shall Eomer, have no fear."
"How did you know we were related?" she asked.
He chuckled. "I have heard a good deal about you from Merry, Pippin, and your brother himself, some. I thank you for your valiant fighting coming to the aide of Gondor with the Riders of Rohan. You are to be praised for your bravery."
She colored. "Thank you, sir."
"I fear the battle has not been kind to you and I still see the darkness of war in your eyes." He shifted, as if to come toward her, his tone sad. Then he seemed to think better of it, and he stepped back into the hall.
She moved after him and stood in her doorway.
"Enjoy your supper, Lady Eowyn," he said. "And remember, if you should need anything I am here to serve you."
"Why are you so kind?" she asked, smiling to take any accusation out of her words.
Faramir stared at her long and hard, as if baring her soul in his blue eyes. He had very kind eyes, she noticed, and there seemed nothing to fear in this steward.
"You have been harmed by men. You mistrust them. I can see that. But I do not feel it should have to be that way with you. Still, that can only change if you trust again."
He turned to go and then looked back, a dark figure in the light of the hall's torches. "I am not asking anything of you except that you continue to rest and heal. When Eomer returns I hope he finds you full of the joy I know you have within you."
She wanted to laugh at his insight and expectations, but her heart was still heavy from that morning, and she could only whisper, "farewell," as he disappeared down the hall.
"Loriel," said Eowyn, halting the servant girl's retreat. "Please stay. I have questions about this steward."
Upon her bidding, Loriel obediently sat upon Eowyn's bed and told her all the stories of Faramir she knew while the shieldmaiden of Rohan ate her stew, drank the ale, and listened, intrigued.
Eowyn was not as nervous to see Faramir the next day. Though she told no one, her dreams were filled with the brave quests and noble deeds she had heard of, Faramir fighting Sauron's forces with the Rangers of Ithilian, defending Osgiliath, attempting to retake the stronghold, dragged back to Minas Tirith by his horse. She felt almost ashamed for imagining he was anything like Grima.
And if Aragorn had chosen him, he was certainly to be trusted.
She ate with a group of women and children that morning and then busied herself with the rest of them as they began their work for the day.
The labor consisted chiefly of mending broken walls and cleaning up rubble. With all the soldiers gone off with Aragorn and the rest, there were only a few rough untrained workmen, women, children, and some older men incapable of fighting to do the job.
And Faramir.
She finally saw him as the sun rose high in the sky, beating down on her golden head as she bent over various rocks, hauling them up in blistered hands and dropping them into a wheelbarrow nearby.
He greeted a few people with his pleasant smile, striding straight and tall like a true lord of men. Once he paused to help a young boy lift a rock that was much too heavy for the lad.
"Don't hurt yourself, Gurlion. You'll regret it in later years, I warn you."
"Once we finish building everything, will you train me to fight, Captain Faramir?" asked the child eagerly, wiping sweat from his eyelashes.
"I hope you won't need it. But yes."
The boy cheered and returned to his work.
Eowyn laughed at the exchange and Faramir was alerted to her presence.
He made his way to her and bowed. "I see you have calmly ignored my request for you to rest and heal, Eowyn."
Humor lay in his eyes.
"Forgive me, Faramir," she said, stifling a small laugh. "But I cannot rest with all this work to be done! Anyway, I am quite well in body, at least."
"But that is not the only place you must heal," he replied.
"Staying in a room alone is not the place for my mind to find any peace or joy," she replied sagely.
He grinned. "You are wise as you are fair."
Without another word he took up the handles of the wheelbarrow and with a grunt rolled the cart of rocks away to the wagon, where they were collecting debris to discard outside the city.