A/N: Finally! Well I've managed to get my internet connection back at last so I can finally update this fic with my latest chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed it so far - reviews are the lifeblood of all fanfiction authors and it's nice to know how to improve upon work as well. Some of the comments have certainly given my cause for thought and I shall definatly be exploring some of the ideas you've all raised. So thanks again and I hope you enjoy this next chapter. - Emeraldstargazer-
IV: Talking In The Twilight
Though she was loath to admit it, Éowyn was tired and she went straight to sleep once Faramir had delivered her safely into the Warden's care. She woke again in the dead of night, a pale moon filling the room with a gentle light. Though she knew she should rest, Éowyn's thoughts returned to her earlier conversation with Faramir and she blushed unwilling at the recollection of his admiration for her.
She had never been called beautiful before. Her uncle and brother had often spoken of her strong will and countenance, calling her pretty. And Grima had spoken of her bewitching manner though it had been but a trick designed to beguile her and buy her love. But never had she been called beautiful by such a man as this, a man who looked at her with such admiration his eyes.
If only the lord Aragorn had looked at her in such a way or had said such eloquent words. And yet her heart was not broken by his rejection, as Faramir had presumed. Instead she found herself somewhat glad of the fact that she would not be Queen of such a city of this, cold and uncompromising as it was. But yet she still loved the lord Aragorn, of that she was sure, for he was a man both noble and strong as her uncle and father had been. Aragornwas as aman of the Rohirrim should be; a fearless leader and a courageous captain, yet he had none of the bold arrogance of many ofEomer's friends but instead a captivating gentleness thatspoke of his elven childhood.Yet Faramir had that gentleness too in far greater a quantity and although she doubted he was a man who sought a fight, Eowyn had seen the same fire in Faramir's eyes as lit Aragorn's when he thought of battle and of his men. It wasthe fire of a leader; a captain of men whether by choice or by fate and it was there in the eyesof the Steward of the Minas Tirith, justasit was in the eyes of his king. Disturbed by these thoughtsEowyndetermined to remain but friends with the new Steward of the City and no more else. For it could not be that she, Éowyn Shieldmaiden of Rohan, had confused the feelings within her heart or fallen into a childish fancy at Aragorn's appearance in her uncle's court. She would never have been so mistaken.
Unwilling to go back to sleep, she slipped from her bed and found her mantle of pale white. It provided little warmth against the chill of the night, but it was better than her simple gown. Quietly she opened the door and stole along the corridor to the outer exit to the garden, determined to spend some time walking alone before returning to her bed.
It could not have been much past midnight, a time when even the healers were all abed and the House lay in silence, so Éowyn was surprised to see another figure within the garden, standing silent in the moonlight's hush. It surprised her much less as she moved closer and saw it was Faramir, his gaze turned towards the starlight sky above.
"You keep late hours my lord," she said, stepping forward into a patch of moonlight.
Starting a little at the sound of her voice, Faramir smiled as he saw her approach, his quick glance taking appraisal of her beauty in the moonlit courtyard.
"No more so than you it would seem Éowyn"
It gave her an unexpected tingle to hear him speak her name but she remembered her earlier promise and offered simply a wan smile.
"What do you look for out here in the dead of night?" she asked gently, shivering a little in the cool of the night.
"I look to the stars, as I used to when I was sent away to Ithilien. For in those stars I can find home wherever I am in this land or another. It was something that Boromir taught me when I was but a child," he explained quietly, "My father determined to send me away for a time, to see how the army worked and lived. To this end he sent me with a company of soldiers to the border of Ithilien. I was only ten and I can remember being very scared at the thought of being so far from home. I worried that I would not be able to find my way back. Boromir showed me how to look at the stars so that I always knew where I was and could always get back home again."
He smiled sadly and Éowyn could almost see the memories that played across his mind as he stood in the moonlight.
"Your brother sounds like he was a kind man," she ventured, unsure of how to broach the subject with him.
Faramir nodded and turned to look at her, smiling slightly though there was sadness in his eyes and his tone was melancholy.
"He was, to me at least. When we were young he always protected me when father was angry. And when we grew older he helped me to understand how best to avoid our father's wrath, though it seemed I was a poor student for I still received it for much of the time," Faramir said, his voice tinged with a bitterness that Éowyn had not thought him capable of, "Yet even then Boromir protected me. He was stern at times and proud but I loved him and would have wished for no other man to be my brother."
"It was the same with Éomer and me," Éowyn said gently, her mind recalling her childhood in Meduseld, "When father was killed, he helped me to understand and when we later lost my mother too, it was Éomer who protected me and drew me out of my grief. It was he who taught me how to fit in at my uncle's court and how to be a Shieldmaiden of Rohan. I do not know what I would do without him."
"You worry about him," Faramir said, though whether a question or a statement, Éowyn could not be sure.
"Of course," she replied, a little more harshly than she had intended, "Do you not worry for those you love when they go to fight a peril such as this?"
Faramir looked at the ground, his face turned slightly away from her and unreadable in the dark of the night. At last he spoke.
"I fear for the lives of my men, yes. And for that of my liege lord and king," he said softly, "but who else have I to worry for, Éowyn? I am the last of my House, with mother, father and brother all taken from me"
She was unsure of how to respond to his statement, aware that she had blundered with her outspoken question. For of course, Faramir had no family left to wish safely home for they had all fallen in the fight already. Instead they entered into an uneasy silence, only broken when Éowyn was unable to stop the slight chatter of her teeth for the cold that shook her body. Seeing her shiver, Faramir walked across, taking her ice cold hand within his own. The touch of his fingers made her shiver again, though this time it was not for the cold and she knew it.
"You are shivering Éowyn," he stated, "and no wonder given how thin that mantle is. It may suffice for the warm halls of Edoras but it is no match for the chill of the night air in Gondor. Have you no winter cloak my lady?"
"None," she replied, "I had only battle gear when I arrived here and the House had but few spare items they could give me once I woke."
Unpinning his own cloak, Faramir wrapped it gently around her shoulders and she gratefully accepted its warmth, for it was made of fine woollen fabric as were all the cloaks of the Ithilien rangers.
"We shall have to find you a better mantle if you are to wander in the darkness without the Warden's permission," he said, his tone slightly mocking rather than chastising her.
"I have slept all I can," Éowyn replied gently, pulling the cloak tighter around her shoulders, "and wished to walk a little. And, as this is the only place that I may walk, it is to here that I came. Though I did not imagine that I would find anyone else breaking the Warden's curfew…"
"You are not the only one who feels caged within these walls Éowyn," Faramir replied, "or are reminded of things they thought they had forgotten."
"I would not have thought this city a cage to you," Éowyn mused, "for it is as much your home as Edoras is mine.'
Faramir shook his head. "I did not live in Minas Tirith as a child," he explained, "though I visited often to see my father and brother who both kept court here. I lived with my mother on the borders of Ithilien, while our forces still held it in peace."
"Your mother?" Éowyn asked curiously. She had heard no one speak of Denethor's wife all the time she had been in the city and had presumed that the woman had died in childbirth.
"Yes. She died when I was very young and had been in poor health long before then. It was why we moved from Minas Tirith, for my father thought that the country air would do her some good," he said, smiling sadly at the memory, "Alas she was too good for this world and such evil times and faded away as rose that wilts before the coming frost."
"You speak of her with much love," Éowyn mused, seeing the gentle light that came into the young steward's eyes as he spoke and the soft smile that graced his lips as he was lost in memory.
"She was a wonderful woman," Faramir replied, looking up firmly, "and it was from her that Boromir and I gained our fair colouring. It is also from her that I gained a love of arts and learning, for I can recall her teaching me when I was a child."
"She sounds like my mother," Éowyn said gently, "She also died when I was young, soon after we lost my father. Some say she wasted away for love of him but that was not the case."
She recalled angrily the rumours of some of the women within Meduseld so in contrast to her picture of her mother, a strong woman who had had a fire and spirit that she has passed down to her wayward daughter.
"My mother was a fighter," she continued, "and were it not for the sickness that took her, no band of men or Orcs would have made her leave her children."
"I can well believe it," Faramir replied, looking at her gently, "for she bought a woman as strong as you into this world."
At this Éowyn looked upon Faramir with a new wonder. Though she had found his words of beauty eloquent, she was not a woman who desired to be called beautiful. But she did desire to be strong though few men ever contemplated her as such. Even in Rohan, where Shieldmaidens were held in high honour, she was seen as woman first and a warrior second. Here, in this proud city where it was only men who rode to war, she had least expected to find a man who could see what she wished to be; a woman, but one who was as strong as any of the riders in Meduseld. And yet such a man stood in front of her and, though he was not himself a lover of battle or glory, he saw her need for strength and honour.
Faramir did not notice her unease, for his mind had returned to the past and he spoke softly.
"My mother too was strong, in spirit if not in health. In that way, she was most like my father, though I often wonder as to how they managed otherwise, for he was like a cold winter to her warm spring.'
Éowyn did not speak, but listened carefully to the words, aware that Faramir was not talking for her sake but more for his own.
"We were never close, father and I," he said sadly, "especially not after my mother's death. He withdrew from all that reminded him of her, and I was his most constant reminder and could not be hidden in a drawer or kept from sight. Boromir he loved, for he had my father's spirit and wished for battle and glory."
Éowyn stepped behind the steward quietly, watching as a tear rolled down the young man's cheek, glimmering in the moonlight. Looking now, she noted how different Faramir would be in looks to his new king. Though of similar height, Faramir was of far slighter build than Aragorn and, whereas Aragorn was dark, Faramir's complexion was fair; his hair golden and his eyes a pale blue. And where the new king was of stern appearance; often appearing troubled and beyond his years, his steward was of gentler looks; and; though it was clear that years of death and war had taken their toll, he was still handsome in appearance. Tentatively, she laid her hand upon his shoulder. He started in surprise but then relaxed again and looked down at her clear blue eyes.
"I am sure that your father loved you Faramir, in his own way," she said gently, "though he may not have had heart enough to show it."
Faramir looked at her, thanks in his eyes though he could not find the words to speak it. But Éowyn did not need his words, for in that moment, in the moonlit garden of Minas Tirith, she realised that they both understood one another without need for spoken words or deeds. And, as they stood side by side in silence, she came to another realisation. She, Éowyn of Rohan, was in love with two men; one who rode to war and battle and another, who stood silently in a moonlit garden with her now. The realisation bought upon her a gentle flush, for she knew that it was not possible to love both Aragorn and Faramir at the same time and she feared that she had made a grievous error in attempting to get to know the young steward better. She withdrew her hand, drawing another look of surprise from Faramir though this time his face was mingled with something she could only place akin to regret.
"Forgive me my lord," she said, her voice quicker than she had intended it to be, "but I…grow a little cold and think I should return to my rooms."
Confusion swept across Faramir's face for a second, before he recovered himself and nodded.
"Of course," he said, "I should not have detained you so long Éowyn, forgive me. Let me escort you back to your rooms."
"I am quite all right, thank you," Éowyn said quickly, "I have detained you enough for one day my lord."
Seeing the puzzlement on Faramir's face at her sudden turn to coolness, she lowered her head from his gaze, unable to look upon the hurt in his eyes. He did not probe her on it but instead merely nodded.
"As you wish lady."
Éowyn unpinned the cloak gently in attempt to hand it back to him but he shook his head.
"Keep it," he said, "until we can find something warmer for these cool evenings. I am used to the cold and can suffice until the morning without it."
Returning his smile with what she hoped seemed to be unconcerned graciousness, Éowyn turned and walked back to her room. Yet though she tore her body from his presence, her mind stayed with the steward, looking up at the stars.
