Faramir stopped short in his walk down the hall, turning to look out past the small garden, between the pillars, toward Mordor. Dark clouds covered the sky and made the afternoon gloomy and dark.
Like a beacon stood Eowyn, looking out across the plain and to the fire of the Cracks of Doom.
Though she brought him hope––for a reason he could not explain––he could see in the droop of her shoulders that she had none herself.
She did not turn as he approached.
"The city has fallen silent. There is no warmth left in the sun. It grows so cold."
He stepped up beside her, his hands clasped behind him, and smelled the air with a deep breath. "It is just the damp of the first spring rain," he told her.
She slowly looked up to meet his gaze.
"Eowyn," he said. "I do not believe this darkness will endure."
Her eyes drew him to herself, and his hand reached down and grasped hers. Perhaps she would find strength there.
And yet as her cold fingers tightened around his he felt perhaps he was the one strengthened by her hold.
Silently she leaned her weary head against his shoulder.
A smile played on his face––small, sad, but hopeful––and he pressed his chin to her hair.
He had known her for only a short time, it was true, but he wondered if perhaps this woman of whom he had heard so much good, could be a woman whom he could love.
Never had a thought like this crossed his mind.
It was two days later the crack was heard, a sharp distant sound, and then an explosion that ripped through the air, all the way from Mordor to Minas Tirith.
Faramir, discussing the city defenses with an old architect, felt the ground beneath him shudder. He ran for the edge of the balcony and looked out towards the black clouds over the mountains of Ithilian.
The Cracks of Doom were spitting fire into the air, fountains of burning lava. But the light of the Eye, the evil of Sauron's burning eye, was gone.
Frodo had succeeded. And whatever Aragorn and the others had done, they were now victorious.
He turned to see Eowyn bounding up the stairs. She ran to the stone rail, leaning far over it, to stare at the dark clouds as they began to clear over Mordor.
"They are alive," Faramir said.
She faced to him, a radiant smile shining on her face. With a strangled sob she threw her arms about his waist.
Faramir pressed her to himself with a joyous laugh. It was over. It was all over.
The trumpets belted their joyous tune, their triumph filling Minas Tirith, echoing and re-echoing off the great stone walls.
It mixed with the prancing steps of the returning horses, who though they had been ridden hard, were nonetheless filled with the moment's excitement, certainly glad to be near their stalls again.
Faramir watched from the crowd as Aragorn, leading the army, dismounted. The steward was surprised suddenly to see that, above her brother, Eowyn rushed up to the king first. She grasped his face in her delicate hands and with a laugh of delight embraced him before the company.
Faramir's heart grew slightly cold. The White Lady had needed him in a dark hour where she saw no light, but now he would be a forgotten help and it was not for him to be bitter.
She ran and clasped Eomer, caught up in his arms and swung around. Her tears of joy fell on his face as he laughed.
Faramir let the relief of victory rest in his eyes and made his way up to Aragorn.
"My king!" he said.
"Faramir!" Aragorn replied. Despite the victory still a little sadness lay in his eyes, but Faramir chose to ignore it in the moment.
"I am at your service, my king." He bowed.
Aragorn clasped him in a surprisingly strong embrace and Faramir laughed with pleasure as they stepped back and looked at each other.
"It is over," he said.
Aragorn bowed his head. "Yes. Over."
Faramir greeted Legolas next, as the king moved off.
"Gandalf is searching for Frodo and Sam with the eagles," the elf told him.
"I wondered where he was!"
"Ho! Faramir!" exclaimed Pippin.
He turned and embraced the hobbits, both Merry and Pippin, as they trotted up to him.
"Your friends succeeded!" he said with a broad smile.
"Aye, they did," Pippin replied. "They did."
"Faramir!"
Eowyn was calling his name and with some hesitation he faced her as she wove her way through the excited crowds and came toward him.
When she was near, he opened his mouth first.
"You love him, I can see." He smiled kindly at her.
She knew of whom he spoke, and her bright eyes clouded slightly. After a moment she replied, "I did love him, yes. But his heart...his heart belongs to another, not to me. And so now," she continued, her voice barely audible in the cramped echoing courtyard, her eyes straying from Faramir's face, "now my heart is free."
"What was it you needed from me?" he asked.
Her lips trembled and he wanted to kiss them.
"Faramir, I wish to thank you. I confess I lost hope—the troubles of war darkened any faith—and I could only see despair and loss in my future and the future of men. But your hope never failed and through it I was able to stand until this day. Truly, I have not seen a strength like yours."
He could not speak, his throat tight. His hand reached up and he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze—the only action he felt could convey what words could not.