When Éowyn awoke alone, she knew her husband had not slept. Hazily she recalled stirring during the night as he shifted restlessly beside her, but she had slipped fast back into slumber as he murmured soft reassurances into her ear. After that she guessed he had probably stolen from their bed straight away to avoid waking her again. She knew she would find him in the study, and she knew he would be tired, and he would not have eaten.
"Good morning, my love," he greeted her absent-mindedly when she entered without knocking. He did not look up from the pair of documents he was perusing to some undetermined end. Though witnessing his weariness and care tugged almost intolerably at her heart, she took a moment to congratulate herself for so expertly anticipating the situation.
"You have been awake all night, then," she ventured, "what ever have you been doing?"
"There was nothing for it; so much needs still to be done. I do hope the King will not be displeased with our efforts."
"Displeased?" she echoed skeptically. "Faramir, the King has only ever held you in the very highest esteem. You know he values your service and counsel above all others. Now will you tell me what is really the matter?"
"I do not know," A faint resignation was in his voice as though he were aware, albeit dimly, that all his thoughts were now refracted through a treacherous prism of memory crystallized long ago within his heart. "Ever do I seek, in vain, to cast a better reflection upon my superiors, as indeed I have always done. Such is the doom of my life, perhaps." He took up a writing instrument and scribbled something in a margin, then crossed it out immediately. "You are right 'tis strange, though. I have not felt this way since..." And again he became lost in his task, though she did not need to hear any more. Approaching him gingerly, she lowered her voice.
"You cannot meet with your lord and friend in such a state of vexation. It has been several long months and today should be a joyous reunion above all else. Will you not allow me to ease your heart?" She extended a hand to his chin and raised his face to look into her own. She saw him behold her then, for the first time that day, and his eyes softened as he covered her hand with his own and pressed a kiss into her palm.
"My lady, you are so perilously lovely this morning, as ever. It is enough for me to look upon you, and my heart is eased." His eyes closed as he breathed deeply, once.
Then she flexed her fingers to graze her nails lightly along his jaw. Perching herself now on the edge of the desk, between where he sat and the documents that beckoned his attention away, she spoke again.
"Are you sure it is enough to look upon me only, husband? Is there nothing else you would have me do to lift your spirits?"
Moments later, his ragged gasps gave way to a shuddering exhalation of release, the force of which drove the breath from his body and left his head spinning even as it rested on Éowyn's shoulder. She hummed appreciatively, her fingers wandering in lilting loops over his back, though she did not yet free him from the powerful grip of her legs. Still perched gracefully upon the desk, she studied him with an animalistic light in her eye as he set one hand to the sturdy wood surface to avoid toppling over.
Coming back into awareness of his surroundings, Faramir tasted salt and realized with a start that he held the firm softness above his lady's collarbone tightly between his teeth. An image of war passed unbidden before his mind's eye—a soldier biting down on a leather gauntlet as an arrow was drawn forth from his flesh. Sheepishly he mumbled an apology for trying to eat his wife, kissing the tender skin and taking heart that she now erupted into an unladylike guffaw as he disentangled himself and turned to stand beside her.
When he had gathered enough air in his lungs to speak, he quipped, "One day you shall be the death of me, and gladly will I meet my doom."
With abrupt, unsmiling intensity she held his gaze for a long moment, and then answered with a widening of her bright eyes.
"Do not speak of death in this hour."
This made him laugh and he leaned in to kiss her. She met him tenderly at first, then bit down on his lip and drew roughly away. Lacking, for once, a witty rejoinder, he allowed himself to simply stare at her as she adjusted her clothing and smoothed her golden hair, making no attempt to conceal the adoration that he knew smoldered in his eyes.
"The King and Queen shall arrive any minute," she declared with exaggerated aplomb, standing very straight before him. "I will go forth to receive them. You must make ready." As she sauntered from the room, she cast a final smirk over her shoulder, paying no mind to the small splotch of pink that now bloomed there upon her white skin. Returning his attention to the documents before him, he found now that it was trivially easy to set them in order, for he had forgotten both care and weariness.
Reaching the gate, Éowyn called to the King and Queen in greeting. "You are most welcome here, liege-lord and lady! Much has changed since last you came and it is our great honor to share it with you."
"Thank you, Éowyn," Aragorn beamed kindly, bowing to kiss her hand. The Queen, who had first curtsied in greeting, now came forward to embrace her friend. Would she come for a walk in the garden, Éowyn asked, to appreciate the beautiful things that now sprung forth from the earth following the first spring rain?
"The Lord Faramir is within," she added, turning back to Aragorn. "He awaits you in the study."
The King now wore a quizzical expression which blossomed into a grin as she regarded him, and she saw that his gaze was not on her face but fixed where her shoulder met her neck. Éowyn felt her cheeks grow hot as she realized what he was looking at, and quickly she clapped a hand to the spot where she was bitten. It was still wet and, based on the sharp sting she now felt, probably very red.
"What say you, Lady Éowyn? Shall I give the Lord Faramir a moment to recover his strength?"