Éowyn had been spared further embarrassment by the return of the rest of the family, bearing the Christmas Tree. She had sat curled up on the couch, nursing a cup of tea, while Faramir sat cross-legged on the carpet, passing tinsel and coloured baubles to the children as they requested them. He seemed absolutely entranced by the whole thing, especially when the moment came to switch on the lights, and somehow, seeing it through his eyes, Éowyn found herself seeing it anew.
They'd eaten pizza – the family tradition for Christmas Eve, nice and easy – Jane had read the kids their bedtime story. Now the adults settled down in the sitting room to watch TV. Faramir was at first puzzled, then quite gleeful, over this magic box which showed plays and all manner of mummeries within its confines.
"You won't be in a moment," said Éomer, grimly.
"Why?"
"Back in a mo, I'll explain." He got up – Faramir was struck again by the sheer size of the man – and went through to the kitchen, returning with a container full of bottles and three glasses.
"Ready for the drinking game, Wyn? You're joining in too, Faramir. Jane likes to watch Love Actually ever bloody Christmas Eve..."
"And why not, you cheeky young sod? It's a lovely film," Jane bridled in pretend indignation.
"And the only way any sane person can get through it is to turn it into a drinking game. Small glasses, beer so not too strong – because we're going to be drinking a lot of it. Every time you see a Christmas jumper, or someone says 'bloody' or 'bugger', or anyone snogs..."
"Kisses," explained Éowyn, seeing Faramir's puzzled expression.
"Or the really annoying kid plays the drums, or anyone strips down to their undies..."
"Or less – don't forget Martin Freeman."
"I only wish I could, sister dearest..." Éomer winced. "Anyway, any of those, you drink the glass. Then it gets refilled."
They settled down in front of the TV. The couch – sofa, as the family called it – was large and soft. Theo settled at one end, then Jane curled up, pulling his arm round her shoulders. Éowyn settled next to her, then, to Faramir's delight, patted the empty space beside her. Éomer settled down in the armchair next to them and placed the bottles and glasses on the coffee table.
An hour or so later, Éomer looked at the scene with a mixture of brotherly indulgence and disgust. Much beer had been drunk. Jane had lasted the others out and was still watching the tail end of the film. Theo was snoozing, and Faramir had fallen really quite soundly asleep – as had Éowyn, her head now lolling on the dark stranger's shoulder. Looked at objectively, the two of them looked quite adorable, however, given that was his sister, he found it slightly nauseating. But…
Every challenge opens up an opportunity. He remembered some bloody officer or other saying that (probably at some inopportune moment when Éomer was waist deep in muddy water on an assault course – officers, specially the posh public school ones, tended to be annoying that way). Anyway, be that as it may, this definitely offered an opportunity. He got out of the armchair and stepped, surprisingly quietly for such a big man, to the fireplace. He pulled a piece of mistletoe out of the Christmas wreath which hung above the mantelpiece, then returned and balanced it on Éowyn's head. Then retreated rapidly to his armchair.
The slight movement was enough to wake Éowyn. She stirred slightly, then coloured bright red as she realised that she was snuggled against Faramir. Then realised there was a foreign object on her head. She gave it a shake, and the sprig of mistletoe dropped into her lap.
Faramir in his turn woke to find whatever nice warm thing had been curled up next to him had gone. He opened his eyes, feeling slightly befuddled by the beer, then looked round as the sound of voices and yelps hit him.
"You bastard, Éomer." Éowyn was sitting on top of her brother, pummelling him as hard as she could. He was alternately yelping as the blows made contact and guffawing. Eventually he managed to grab her wrists and hold her off.
"You've got to admit it was funny."
"What was?" Faramir asked.
"Nothing," Éowyn answered rapidly, turning bright red. "Oh look, the annoying boy's playing the drums again… Have some more beer."
~o~O~o~
As Jane loaded the dishwasher, Theo passing her mugs and plates, she suddenly said, "That strange young man Wyn brought home..."
"What about him," Theo responded.
"She's falling for him."
"Mmm, yes, I think you could be right. And he's falling for her."
"But it's a bloody mess. The guy doesn't even know who he is, can't remember a damn thing about himself beyond his first name. Doesn't know where he's come from, doesn't know what he does for a living… Typical Wyn. She's never been good at picking them."
"He seems a nice enough bloke though."
"Is that all you can say? For heaven's sakes Theo – where do the pair of them go from here?"
"I don't know, love, I don't know. But I do know she's old enough to make her own mistakes, and all we can do is watch and give her a hug if she needs it."
They continued to pack the dishwasher in silence for some time. Then Jane said, "Earlier, with the brooch…"
Theo's head snapped up. His tone, when he spoke, had lost its earlier, casual, laissez-faire tone. "What about it?"
"Ah, that's got your attention. There's always been something about all of this you haven't told me."
"I just thought you'd think it all a bit daft. When she first held the broaches, in fact every time after that, Sue always said there was something about them. An energy, a magic if you like. 'An other-worldly magic', that was how she always described it."
"And you believed her?"
"They always just felt like bits of metal and gems to me. But she said she sensed it, and… well, her instincts, sometimes they could be uncanny. And I'll tell you something else – the young man. He felt it when he held them. I could tell from his face."
"Gerroff – you're never saying you believe all his nonsense about coming from another world." Jane snorted derisively.
"Of course not. No. But there's something, something strange."
~o~O~o~
Later still, and distinctly the worse for wear, Faramir stumbled into bed. Éomer went out like a light, lying flat on his back, snoring like a growling guard dog.
Faramir, on the other hand, lay with his thoughts whirling. As tended to happen on the rare occasions when he got a bit drunk, ale seemed to take the brakes off his thought processes, allow them to go places he wouldn't normally, or would see the danger of well in advance. And tonight, the place they went to, of course, was beautiful, beautiful Wyn. And the line of thought that the film had started. Not to mention her delightful proximity to him.
It seemed that this world was considerably looser in its morals than the world from which he had come. People it seemed, thought nothing of hopping from bed to bed (though infidelity still seemed to be just as frowned on, and caused just as much pain). But there seemed to be no expectation that a woman come to her marriage bed still a maid. Which left a puzzle, one which he was sure a gentleman wouldn't allow himself to think about… but then, he was drunk. Was Wyn a maid? And did it matter to him?
Just for an instant, he felt a gut clenching stab of jealousy. Then reflected that probably, were he to make her his, the jealousy would evaporate, to be left only with feelings of pity towards the poor benighted fool who had once had her, and let her slip through his fingers. And then he had one of those lightning bolt flashes of genius (or what passes for genius when one is several sheets to the wind): the thing that truly mattered was not being a woman's first lover, but loving her well enough that she would choose you to be her last lover.
How, he mused (as a beer sodden sleep finally claimed him), could he persuade Éowyn that he was worthy of this? Especially since he was pretty damned sure she thought he was mad as a March hare.
~o~O~o~
Just a quick note to say thank you to the reviews from people not logged in, which obviously I can't respond to individually (and thanks of course for all the reviews). And if reading this is a guilty pleasure, I can assure you, so too is writing it. :-D