A/N: Yet more apologies for another long absence between updates - confounded internet problems again that are now (hopefully) sorted. Again, thank you so much for all the reviews and apologies for the long wait.
This is yet another short chapter (but I promise the next few will be longer!) but it finishes at a point that seems appropriate, hence why a quotation from the magnificent book itself finishes this chapter for me - I really don't think anybody manages the words better than Tolkien himself. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy this chapter and I shall try to post the next quite soon. After some revisions, there are probably another 3 chapters to come after this one before this fic can finally be put to bed. Enjoy!
- Emeraldstargazer -
VI: The End of Days
The days took on a new routine for Faramir after he had gifted Éowyn the cloak for, although his days were still filled with increasing amounts of state business, he found that he now looked forward to the previous silent evenings as he knew for certain that he would be able to head to the walls of the House of Healing and find the Shieldmaiden there.
They spent many hours talking together and Faramir found himself telling Éowyn far more than he would have shared with anyone else; they talked of his family and of hers, and of state business and of his nervousness about being Steward. He valued her opinion for Meduseld had taught Éowyn of politics as well as of arms, though Faramir found that it had taught her little of history or art and he delighted in telling her the tales of ancient myth and lore that he had learnt from Mithrandir as a child. Each evening bought new closeness and new confidences between them and with each meeting their health improved until the Warden felt it was almost time to release them from his care.
It came as little surprise to Faramir to discover that he loved Éowyn and, in many ways he thought that he had always loved her, from the moment she had strode so determinedly towards him in the garden with the agitated Warden following close behind. Of her feelings he was still unsure and he only dared to think that she might feel the same. He was only a Steward and she had loved a King, he was a Gondorian of a proud city and she a Shieldmaiden of Rohan's green hills, and everything he could think of stood against them with the Darkness still upon them both. Yet he did not care and still he loved her and was content with that.
As he stood upon the wall with Éowyn once again, Faramir was happier than he had been for many years even though the light of Mount Doom's fire still lit the evening sky. Yet he sensed discomfort from Éowyn, for she scanned the horizon with more intent than ever before.
"What do you look for Éowyn?"
She turned to him, her eyes filled with an anxiety that he had not seen since they had first met. Concerned, Faramir reached for her hand and clasped it gently within his own.
"It is seven days since my brother and the King rode away," Éowyn replied, "and if the Black Gate lies just beyond the horizon then surely they must be there now. The battle has been won and lost but still we hear no news."
Faramir nodded, sharing her concern for both the King and for his men. On Faramir's orders, the Ithilien Company had pledged their support to both Mithrandir and Aragorn after the retreat from Osgiliath, and in his absence they had followed his orders to the letter and ridden to the Black Gate with the King. Though he was proud of their bravery, Faramir prayed for their safe return for he had led the company for years and knew his men more as brothers than subordinates.
He prayed also for the King; a King that Gondor so desperately needed, and for Éowyn's brother who had ridden at Aragorn's side. And he prayed for his childhood friend and tutor, Mithrandir and for Pippin, whose eyes should have been too young to have seen war. Lastly, Faramir's thoughts turned to the ringbearer Frodo, and to Sam whose final words of honour still rang in Faramir's ears. He only hoped that by proving his quality, he had given the two hobbits a chance to reach Mount Doom and end the cycle of destruction wrought by the One Ring.
"It reminds me of Númenor," said Faramir softly, his voice seeming almost alien in the silence.
"Númenor?" Éowyn asked, "You have never told me of that."
"It was the land of Westernesse that foundered. I have often dreamt of that dark wave climbing over the green lands and coming onwards, like darkness unescapable."
"You think…you think that the Darkness will come here? Darkness Unescapable?" Éowyn asked, shivering underneath her starry mantle and grasping Faramir's hand a little tighter.
Faramir shook his head uncertainly, "It was but a picture in my mind Éowyn. One of many that the Shadow left. I know not what is happening though I worry for my King and for my men. The fear and doubt of this evil time are grown dark indeed but, Éowyn, Éowyn, White Lady of Rohan; I care not for these dark thoughts, for in this hour I do not believe that any darkness can endure!"
Caught up in the words and the feelings, it was only when he had finished speaking that Faramir realised how tightly he had been holding Éowyn's hand and how lost he had been in her eyes. The realisation made him blush furiously and he lowered his eyes slightly to tear them away from her gaze. Wordlessly, and with her hand still clasped in his, Éowyn gently laid her head on Faramir's shoulder and with relief, he kissed her golden hair, breathing in its gentle scent.
And as they stood there upon the wall, hands clasped in a gentle silence, a great wind rose up and blew throughout the city, gusting through the winding streets and ancient passageways. And the Shadow departed from the East and the Sun was unveiled, streaming across the walls of the city, from the lowest streets to the top White Tower of Ecthelion. The waters of the Anduin shone like silver and Faramir and Éowyn, along with all the men and women of the City, felt their hearts sing though the source of their joy was unknown.
And before the Sun had fallen far from noon out of the East there came a great Eagle flying, and he bore tidings beyond hope from the Lords of the West, crying:
Sing now, ye people of the Tower of Anor,
for the Realm of Sauron is ended for ever,
and the Dark Tower is thrown down.
And the Tree that was withered shall be renewed,
and he shall plant it in the high places,
and the City shall be blessed
Sing all ye people!
And the people sang in all the ways of the City.
- The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King -
