Author note: Wooh I have wifi! Bit of a lazy day so have time to upload the chapter I finished before I went away. Thanks marie potter riddle for the fav :)
saraestelz- Thank you so much for your really lovely review! It gave me a massive confidence boost. I really hope you enjoy where the story goes.
jshaw0624 - It is so great to see your reviews come in after every chapter, I really really appreciate it! I love Faramir and Eowyn too - a good power couple lol. But Keren is infatuated, and Eowyn is pining after Aragorn, so we'll see how it plays out. Legolas is very much going to be around in this story, he's just busy at the moment helping to save the world and all that...
As you can see I love reading reviews and I will always reply if you take the time to write one. So please don't be shy, I like to know what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong!
But enough of my babbling, here comes Eowyn, and she is pissed off! Faramir to the rescue? Have to say a couple of small bits in this chapter are straight from the book, so that is Tolkien's stuff, definitely not mine! X
*Edit* A lot of mistakes in this chapter due to working on iPad not computer, have edited and republished.
Chapter eight - The White Lady
News came to the city early the next day that the army had safely reached the Morgul Vale. Keren was one of the first to hear, as she had been at Faramir's side when the tidings were brought straight to him. She was not entirely sure where the Morgul Vale was, and could not bring to mind any real sense of scale as to how far away it lay. She did not know if it meant they were close to their final destination, or whether they still had many leagues to go. Dannor she knew, marching on foot, would be suffering more than the folk on horseback, but all she could do was hope that he stayed uncomfortable, as it meant he was still alive. She worried for Pippin also, despite barely sharing two words with him. Surely one so small had no chance, other than to be a burden to those that had to protect him, like Beregond.
Oh, Beregond, she thought sadly. Stay safe.
Then there was her new, and strangest, acquaintance. She had not really thought of elves dying before, although she knew that they could. It was an odd thought that he might not return. She was thankful therefore that she had spoken with him, and she was grateful for all he had told her, despite her rather uncomfortable memories of their meeting. She still puzzled over his description of her as an elf-friend, but had come to terms with the fact that she would probably never find out what he meant. Besides, there were far more important things for her to be thinking about.
There was now a little awkwardness between her and Faramir after the events of the night before, but both strove valiantly to ignore it.
That morning she helped him move to another private room within the Houses, smaller but more finely decorated, and the warden finally got his room back.
Once they were alone together in the new space, Faramir spoke.
"When exactly am I allowed to hear of my father's death?" he said. It had been preying on his mind, and he could not see why he was not permitted to know. "I am well enough now to hear such tidings."
Keren hesitated before she explained.
"Lord Elessar commanded the warden, and therefore any of us, not to tell you until you were fit to take on your duties as steward, and I'm afraid that time is still far off."
"But why must I wait?" he asked.
"He wished you to have things to occupy your mind with. Otherwise you will dwell on the tale."
"But surely you can see that not knowing what actually happened is making me dwell on all the possibilities of what could have befallen him?" he said, his hands clenching together as he knelt forwards in his chair. "In my mind I have seen him stabbed, or drowned, or burned, or collapsing in agony. Please, Keren."
"My lord, I – " Keren felt so sorry for him, but was afraid to break her word. She had shivered when he had unknowingly named the manner of his father's death. "Faramir," she corrected herself. "Were you close to your father?"
He looked sharply at her.
"All in this city know I was not. But that does not mean I do not grieve at his passing. He was a fine steward, and he loved my mother."
"Do you remember her?" Keren wondered. She felt guilty for trying to distract him from their current topic, but was also curious as to what he could remember of the Lady Finduilas, sister to Prince Imrahil.
"She died when I was five," he said quietly. "After my birth she… became ill, and never truly recovered. I am told many women suffer sadness after childbirth but this, whatever she had, I am sure was what eventually killed her. I believe it began when father became the steward and she had to remain in the city. She was not used to living away from the sea shore where she had spent all her life, and her heart began to fail. But my father blamed me for her illness, and she was left to raise me alone, while he gave all his time and love to my brother. He wanted nothing to do with me. When she died I knew he held me responsible, and he has never forgiven me. And now it is too late for him to do so."
There was a small silence. Still and stony-eyed he remained, looking unerringly like his father in fact, although he could not know this. There was no emotion in his voice as he had spoken, for the old wounds long buried deep had lost their potency. Keren wanted so much to take his hand, but was uncertain after the night before how to proceed.
"I believe my father feels the same about me," she said eventually, perhaps only realising it herself for the first time. "My mother was with us a little longer – she died when I was eleven – but she was never the same after I was born, according to him. I of course did not know any different. But when she died she seemed happy to be leaving, as if life was too sad for her to bear."
Both felt as if they had shared just enough, and Faramir, no longer wanting to speak of his father, stood and stretched.
"I believe I will go for a walk in the gardens," he said. "Will you join me?"
"I wish I could," she said, "but it must be past ten, and I am supposed to go to the Lady Éowyn this morning. Although perhaps my sister could go…"
"Who is the Lady Éowyn?" Faramir asked.
Keren blinked in surprise.
Of course he would not know she was here, she realised. Or who she was. My care of them has been quite separate.
"She is the sister of the new King of Rohan," Keren explained. "Her uncle, the old King, lies dead within the citadel, slain in battle. She is in mine and Palen's care, for she was wounded on the Pelennor fields."
"She fought?" Faramir wondered.
"Very bravely by all accounts," Keren said, but then stopped herself from telling more of the tale. For some reason she did not want Faramir to know too much of the beautiful white lady.
Which is utterly ridiculous, she chided herself, and for that you will go to her, you paranoid idiot.
"I should really go to her…" she tailed off.
Faramir smiled.
"Very well, do your duties," he said. "I am sure I will survive a walk in the gardens. But come and find me afterwards. Some time alone is good, but too long and my mind turns inwards, to things I would rather not think of. You are keeping me sane, I think."
She smiled and nodded, turning to leave. He touched her hand briefly in passing, and she tried not to let the joy show too openly on her face. Both were relieved that they had got through a whole morning with no mention from either of what had almost happened between them the day before. As the closing door parted them from each other they knew that whatever it was between them was still just as strong – strange as it seemed to both, they knew they had been brought together at this time for a reason.
Keren knocked on the door to Éowyn's room and then softly entered.
Today the lady was stood by the window, her arms wrapped around herself, for she must have been cold still dressed in naught but her nightshift.
"Good morning my lady," Keren said. "Shall I fetch you a shawl to keep you warm?"
Éowyn turned sharply to face her, her face paler than ever. She was slightly short of breath, and Keren deduced that prior to her entering she had been pacing the room.
"You can fetch me some proper clothes," Éowyn said. "I mean to leave this room today, I am going mad."
"Nay, my lady, I do not think that is wise," Keren said.
"You say no to me?" Éowyn replied. She did not have to say 'don't you know who I am', but it was heavily implied. "I am not asking you, I am telling you, I have to get up or my mind will turn!"
Keren was shocked. Finally something other than cold passivity from the famed shieldmaiden of Rohan.
"I understand that, my lady," Keren began, "but I cannot allow – "
"No, you do not understand," Éowyn interrupted. "I have to get out of here. This room is a cage, and you and your sister come and brighten it for a while, but nearly always I am alone. When I am awake I remember things I do not wish to remember. And when I sleep, for there is not much else to do, I dream of them. I long to talk to people. I want fresh air, and to see the mountains. I – I cannot…"
Keren stood amazed. She had had no idea how much her short visits had come to mean to the lady, and she felt selfish about how much time she had spent with Faramir over her, despite it being at his request.
Éowyn gathered her breath, grimacing as she held her broken left arm close to her after trying to gesticulate with it just now.
"Please," she begged Keren. "I will not be gainsaid in this."
So wild was the look in her eye, and so desperate was her voice, that Keren genuinely feared the lady would make herself more ill in her distress.
"Alright," she said. "But you cannot go far, you are too weak and your arm is still not healed enough for my liking. I suppose if I put it in a sling you may go for a short walk. I will bring you a gown to wear. It won't be anything like what you are used to wearing I am sure, my lady."
"I do not care," Éowyn said. "For the eight days prior to waking here I wore armour, which suits me as well as any fine gown."
"Well neither armour or a fine gown can I bring you, nor do we have much at all in the way of clothes. Now you are… er, more alert, I will send for a seamstress in the city to come and take your measurements for some new gowns. But for now one of my sister's simple gowns will have to do. You and she are of a height, although it may be a little short."
Éowyn waved her good arm as if to say she would be happy dressing in a sack as long as it meant escaping her room. Keren left swiftly.
Palen was with Merry, so had no say in the clothes she unwittingly lent the White Lady of Rohan. Keren, feeling inclined towards the dramatic, decided that a white gown, emphasising her unofficial title, would be fitting for the lady's first day out of bed. Palen did not quite have a white gown, but she did have a plain white kirtle which could easily be worn over a clean shift. Keren realised she had forgotten to ask Éowyn her shoe size.
Well she will just have to go barefoot until her next venture outside her room, Keren judged. It's not like she will be going outside, or too far.
The kirtle, as it turned out, gaped a little around the chest, even when laced tightly, and Éowyn's long legs meant it allowed her bare feet to be seen. Éowyn tutted and awkwardly tried to pull on the boots she had worn in battle with one hand. Keren knelt to help her, and then proceeded to put her broken arm in a sling so she would not be tempted to try and wave it around wildly as she had before. She slipped a shawl over the lady's shoulders, to disguise the fact that the kirtle was too large.
"And now what is your plan?" Keren asked Éowyn. The lady had sat down on the edge of her bed, looking tired from her efforts already. "I cannot allow you to go far."
Éoywn looked determinedly up at her.
"You will take me to the warden," she said, "and I will tell him I wish to leave this place."
Keren, knowing that Éowyn would not be argued with, nodded and helped her to rise. But she knew that the warden would not permit the lady to leave, and, given his habit of following directions to the letter, would lock her in her room if she threatened to do so. This was, in Keren's eyes, the word of the future King they were obeying after all, and she knew the warden respected Elessar's commands after witnessing his miraculous healing.
Together they went down the corridor, the White Lady's long strides, despite her weary state, meaning Keren had to do an awkward half-run just to keep up with her. She knocked on the door to the warden's office, and the two women entered, one far more confident of the other in how the meeting was to play out.
"The Lady Éowyn has risen and wishes to speak with you sir." Keren felt as if she was stating the obvious. "Shall I wait outside?"
"Yes, Keren, please," the warden said, doing well to cover his surprise at seeing the lady out of her bed.
Keren retreated quietly and stood outside. A week ago, she realised, she had clung to this very door as she heard the news that Faramir had been struck with a poisoned arrow.
How long ago it seems, she thought, and how much has happened since then!
She stood as she had then, her ear now not quite as obviously pressed to the door. If anyone passed by they would simply see her appearing bored at having to wait for the warden's attention.
Really I have become too good at this.
As it turned out the lady's high and passionate voice carried out into the corridor for anyone to hear.
"Sir," Keren heard. "I am in great unrest, and I cannot lie longer in sloth."
"Lady," the warden answered," you are not yet healed, and I was commanded to tend you with especial care. You should not have risen from your bed for seven days yet, or so I was bidden. I beg you to go back."
Keren grimaced. She knew Éowyn would not take kindly to hearing the same information she herself had given, and this time more firmly repeated.
"I am healed," Éowyn said, "healed at least in body, save my left arm only, and that is at ease."
Liar, Keren thought, but strangely felt respect for the lady's bravado.
"But I shall sicken anew," she went on, "if there is naught that I can do. Are there no tidings of war? The women can tell me nothing."
Keren frowned. She did in fact have news of the army, but Eowyn had not thought to ask her, nor had Keren thought to share. It seemed they little knew what to expect from each other.
"There are no tidings," said the warden, "save that the lords have ridden to Morgul Vale; and men say that the new captain out of the North is their chief. A great lord is that, and a healer; and it is a thing passing strange to me that the healing hand should also wield the sword. It is not thus in Gondor now, though once it was so, if old tales be true. But for long years we healers have only sought to patch the rents made by the men of swords. Though we still have enough to do without them: the world is full enough of hurts and mischances without wars to multiply them."
Keren was surprised to hear the warden speak at such length. He was usually a man of few words, and they were usually orders. If he was hoping to distract the lady from her request it did not work, in fact it seemed to make her more riled.
"It needs but one foe to breed a war, not two, Master Warden. And those who have not swords can still die upon them. Would you have the folk of Gondor gather you herbs only, when the Dark Lord gathers armies? And it is not always good to be healed in body. Nor is it always evil to die in battle, even in bitter pain. Were I permitted, in this dark hour I would choose the latter."
Keren raised her eyebrows.
I think she might be more than a little mad, she thought. Or perhaps I am just a coward for not wanting to die. But I suppose she is right, we might all be dead in a few days, and it would be best to go bravely.
The warden appeared to have no answer, and Keren heard him sigh heavily.
"Is there no deed to do?" Éowyn's voice again. "Who commands in this City?"
"I do not rightly know." The warden sounded a little lost. Keren did not think he would have ever had a woman speak to him so abruptly before. "Such things are not my care. There is a marshal over the Riders of Rohan; and the Lord Húrin, I am told, commands the men of Gondor. But the Lord Faramir is by right the Steward of the City."
No! Keren thought immediately. Do not bother him with this now, he is healing himself.
"Where can I find him?" Éowyn's voice grew louder in hope and frustration.
"In this house, lady," the warden said, causing Keren to huff with annoyance. "He was sorely hurt, but is now set again on the way to health. But I do not know – "
"Will you not bring me to him?" Éowyn interrupted sharply. "Then you will know."
The door opened quickly, and a harassed looking warden caught Keren's gaze.
"Is the Lord Faramir in his room?" he asked her quickly.
"He is probably still in the gardens," she said regretfully.
Éowyn swept past her, and gave her a look that bade her follow. Something about it made Keren think that she was not quite as comfortable as she appeared giving orders to the warden, and in a few moments time, to the steward.
Does she want me there for support? Keren wondered. Little use I will be to her. I think, like everyone else, that she should go back to bed.
The warden led Éowyn to the gardens, Keren following quickly behind, and there the three of them beheld Faramir standing alone by the walls, looking towards the East.
"My lord Faramir," the warden said gently so as not to make him start.
Faramir slowly turned his face from where Mordor lay, expecting to be told to go back inside and rest. He saw Keren just off the warden's shoulder in her familiar healer's garb, but standing next to her was a woman unknown to him, with long straw coloured hair flowing down to her waist. She was wearing men's boots, and a rough brown shawl over her shoulders. She was pale, and the sling around her left arm showed that she was clearly injured. Taller than Keren by over half a foot, he could not deny that the lady drew his attention from her briefly. He had never seen a maiden so solemn and sad, but with, it seemed to him, the rather desperate air of a caged bird fluttering on the brink of freedom. She stood still and graceful, but he could see the wild look in her eyes, and the quick rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to contain her breathing. She also happened to be the fairest woman he had ever laid eyes on, and felt guilty for thinking this as Keren stood so close by, but then felt pleasantly surprised that he was so loyal to the young girl already.
She has more of a hold on me than I had thought, he realised. There is something about her that is hidden from me, and I mean to find out what.
"My lord," said the warden, "here is the Lady Éowyn of Rohan."
Faramir gave a quick look to Keren with recognition at the name, then bowed deeply to the lady.
"She rode with the king and was sorely hurt, and dwells now in my keeping," the warden went on. "But she is not content, and she wishes to speak to the Steward of the City."
Neither Éowyn nor Keren cared for the apologetic tone he had put into his voice, as if the lady was a naughty child being completely unreasonable.
Perhaps I could support her after all, Keren thought wryly.
"Do not misunderstand him, lord," said Éowyn. "It is not lack of care that grieves me. No houses could be fairer, for those who desire to be healed. But I cannot lie in sloth, idle, caged. I looked for death in battle. But I have not died, and battle still goes on."
Immediately felt great pity for the lady rise in his heart, although he thought that was something he ought not to tell her. With a small gesture of his hand he ordered the warden to depart, then with a far longer look, silently bid Keren to go. He knew it would hurt her to be dismissed, and he of course did not wish for her to leave his side, but he felt that the lady deserved privacy – she was the niece of a king and deserved respect from him and all others.
Keren had to stop her lips from parting in disbelief. Never had he sent her from his side before. She had always been the one to leave, and that was always with a promise to return. His gaze, though, was apologetic.
The quicker I have dealt with this, he thought, hoping she would understand, the quicker we can be alone.
She gave a quick courtesy, turned quickly and walked back to the Houses, unable to keep a feeling of unease from building in her heart.
"What would you have me do, lady?" she heard him ask Éowyn as she walked away. "I also am a prisoner of the healers."
She almost stopped dead at that comment.
He could not have meant it, surely?
Did he see her as a guard of some sort, always watching over him? Surely he wished to spend time with her, enjoyed their hours together?
Or perhaps all this time he was just being kind to me, she worried, and in fact cannot wait to get away. And now he is speaking with the sister of a King.
The rest of the conversation was lost to her as she walked inside.
She felt strangely lost that afternoon. She had no charges to care for, as they were talking with each other. She decided to distract herself by going to the hobbit's room to see him and Palen.
Merry was awake and in fine form, cracking jokes and telling tales of his home and friends. It was a chance for Keren to see the strong friendship that had quickly grown up between the hobbit and her sister. She had not seen Palen laugh so much in a long time, especially as the smallest moment of quiet would prompt her mind to wander to Dannor and their father on their way to the Black Gate. When Keren told her that her old white kirtle was now being worn by the Lady Eowyn she giggled in disbelief. Their fun afternoon was interrupted, however, by none other than Faramir.
"Master Meriadoc," he said as he came confidently into the room. Only Keren with her watchful eyes noticed the sheen of sweat on his brow. Truly he was not healed yet. "I wish to talk with you."
Palen quickly spoke up.
"Do you wish for us to leave my lord?" she asked, throwing a cautious look at Keren.
"I do not, but the Lady Eowyn asked for you to go to her Keren," he said. "She did not say why."
"Then I will go to her, of course, my Lord." Keren tried and failed to hide her disappointment. Her heart was quickly made glad when, in front of the hobbit and her sister, he squeezed her hand. Keren noticed Palen staring at their entwined fingers.
"We shall see each other tomorrow?" he asked.
"If you wish it," Keren said simply.
"Always," Faramir replied. "Mistress Palen, you may stay if you wish."
Palen shook her head awkwardly and muttered something about not wanting to intrude.
"Oh, please stay Pal." This from Merry.
Faramir smiled at the near besotted look the perian threw at Keren's sister.
"Aye, stay – you may be able to answer my questions too," he said. "For you have spent far more time with the subject of them than I."
Keren wondered what questions he was going to ask without her there.
Questions about me? she wondered, and hope rose in her heart.
The same thought seemed to have occurred to Palen as she shot her younger sister a look full of baffled disbelief.
With a smile over her shoulder at Pal, Keren left the room.
When Keren reached Eowyn she had returned to her room and was bravely trying not to look exhausted.
"Faramir said you wished to see me," Keren said, and immediately panicked that she had not used his title. Eowyn seemed not to notice however.
"Yes," Eowyn said wearily, "just to thank you for today."
"Oh," Keren let out, surprised. The lady had thanked her for her care before, but this was the first time she sounded as if she really meant it. "You are welcome my lady, although I do wish you would get into bed now."
Eowyn readily admitted defeat and allowed Keren to removed the kirtle and her boots, before falling onto the layered mattresses.
"Was Lord Faramir of any help?" Keren asked tentatively, knowing that she should really leave the lady to rest.
Eowyn was silent for a moment before replying, and Keren first thought she had fallen asleep already. But then she shifted where she lay so that she could see Keren.
"Yes," Eowyn said, although she still did not smile. "He was kind, and very patient with me. He told me he will instruct the warden that I shall be able to walk in the gardens as and when I wish, so that I can always look to the east when the mood takes me. I do not think he knows what that means to me, for all my hopes lie there, with the one who has command of…"
She cut herself off, and with those few words Keren knew why Eowyn had asked so fervently after Elessar, or Aragorn as she called him, and why she so wanted to know of tidings from the East.
Eowyn looked almost angrily at Keren, as if daring her to comment.
"The Lord Faramir, he is a kind and caring man," Keren said instead, and Eowyn nodded gratefully. "He will do all he can to help you, I am sure of it."
"Yes," she agreed. "He was…most courteous. I can see why all the people of this city trust him so keenly. You know him well?"
Keren knew not how to reply.
"I learn more of him everyday whilst he is in my care," she said carefully,"but I have long known what a great man he is. He had little love from his father, but he now has the love of the whole city."
"He has your love?" Eowyn asked sleepily.
Keren wondered if it was a loaded question, but the lady looked close to sleep, so she decided it was an innocent query.
"Yes, my lady," she said. "I believe all who know him learn to love him." She smiled to herself as she repeated the words of her prophecy.
Just none so much as I, she thought, as she watched Eowyn drift into sleep.
Eowyn had chosen not to mention that the Lord Faramir had told her she was the fairest woman he had ever seen, nor that he had asked her to meet him again in the gardens, for such things seemed unimportant. Her heart was with Aragorn, and she was blind to all others – she would always choose dreams of her love, perhaps now lost to her forever, over an evening spent with any other man, handsome and noble as the steward of Gondor may have been.
Faramir retired for the night well aware that he had not spent half as much time with Keren as he, and no doubt she, had hoped that day. He would make up for it tomorrow. But he had felt he had to do his duty by the white lady, and had gone to find out more of her from Merry, so he could understand what had made her so distant and sad. She had cried in front of him, sounding lost and alone, and so cold and serious was she in the face of her unknown fate that he had tried to lighten her mood. Her beauty, for it would have been apparent to anyone who saw her that she was very fair, was all he could think of to compliment her, seeing as he then knew so little of her character. Now after speaking with Merry, who in a short space of time had come to know her well, he felt he understood her desire for renown and recognition, and her fear of pity. Palen also, with her regular care of Eowyn, had been able to tell him of her desire to be looked on as an equal by men, and not to be viewed as a burden by anyone.
He had given her a polite invitation to walk with him in the gardens, for it would be meaningful to him to converse with another who had experienced the fell hand of the Nazgul, and he hoped she would find a certain relief in sharing the topic with one who understood and had survived the same malady. But when he had returned there with Merry in the evening they had found the garden deserted – she had not come, and he was surprised at the disappointment he felt.
He would return there tomorrow morning, he decided. And then, once he had checked to see if Eowyn was well, he would spend the rest of the day with Keren, the only one with whom he felt he could truly be himself.
He dreamt of Keren that night – he saw her as he had that first time, just a face in the crowd by the gate, her dark eyes shining, and that feeling of hope radiating from her. He looked for her green gown, but saw instead that she wore shimmering white, and held in her hand something that produced so bright a light he could not see what it was. When he looked around in surprise, he was faced by two more figures that he had but briefly seen in waking life. Stood to her right was Elessar, his King, crowned now, and with a shining star at his breast. Then Faramir became confused in his dreaming, for where he was sure Keren had stood but moments before was now the White Lady of Rohan, but she was wearing Keren's green gown. The King now stood as if to protect her from him, his sword drawn. To her left, even stranger, stood the blonde elf that he had seen two days ago from the walls, with his longbow ready to be loosed and an arrow pointing straight at Faramir's heart.