Sorry for the short chapter, but wanted to update, let you know I'm still working on this. Thanks to all for the reviews, your kind hearts are appreciated. As always, it all belongs to JRRT. For the uninitiated, Menelmacar is the constellation Orion. It was hung by Varda in preparation for the awakening of the elves, and it forebodes the last battle. Valacirca is the Big Dipper.
The moon was the color of ivory as its cold light shimmered across the pale stone of the cobbles. There was a sweet smelling breeze, warm and gentle, like silken fingers that stir the hair. Eowyn drank it in like a parched desert traveler, storing in her mind the feeling that throbbed in her chest. She noted the softness of Faramir's sleeve beneath her fingers, the warmth of his arm as she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. He tilted his head to meet her eyes and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling and little furrows of happiness creasing around his mouth. Yet they did not speak, instead strolling in silence along the turreted walls of the uppermost circle of the city, taking in the night. Above, the stars were crisp, bright diamonds against the ebony sky, Menelmacar shining strong in the North. Their feet aimlessly led them to the prow of the city, where the night spread out like a parchment.
Faramir turned to her, a small smile on his lips, and proffered forth a scrap of folded parchment. With questioning eyes Eowyn opened it and found inside a pair of glistening opal disks, smooth as river washed pebbles. "What are they?" She spoke quietly, for it seemed shameful to disturb the peace of the night with her words.
Faramir plucked one up with his fingers. "They were my favorite when I was a lad. And they still are, I suppose I must admit." He delicately touched the disk to Eowyn's lips. She took it into her mouth and started as the taste of sugar spread across her tongue. An odd tang pursed her lips into a pucker, and Faramir let out a laugh.
"What is it?" The flavor was sweet, yet with a pungent piquancy that tingled at the sides of her mouth.
"It is orange." Eowyn looked askance at Faramir, and he gestured away south. "It is a fruit that grows by the sea, in the warmer regions. It does not thrive here, so these sweets are not easy to come by, but when I saw them I had to have some." He turned to survey the sky. "It's odd, but just the taste of them reminds me of being young." He took the other candy from the paper and placed it on his tongue with an air of ceremony, then took a deep and satisfied breath. "Foolish."
"Not at all, Lord." Faramir nodded and smiled. To Eowyn's surprise, he suddenly moved from her side and sat on the cobbles at the edge of the escarpment, gesturing for her to join him. In her mind she could see Ioreth's look of scorn and disapproval, but the sight of Faramir's offered hand swayed her, and she gathered her skirts around her to sink to a seat at his side. He was gathering a pile of small white pebbles in front of him. She moved closer to see, and the warmth of the breeze mingled with the warmth of his body as she leaned near. Faramir picked up one of the stones, tipping his palm to show her. Then, with a smirk, he raised his hand and pitched the pebble over the precipice. They leaned forward together to watch it sail down and bounce off the edge of a crumbling parapet two levels below and into the crags of the cliff. Faramir let out a bark of disappointed laughter, then pressed a stone into Eowyn's palm.
"When we were lads, Boromir and I often came here at night, when the city was quiet. We pitched target practice into that abandoned watchtower. Boromir always used to say that it built coordination for archery, but I knew it was just a reason for us to spend time together without father standing over us." Faramir smiled at the memory, and for the first time since Eowyn had laid eyes on him there was no hidden sadness in his gaze. "Then one night we discovered that father had posted a sentry in that tower, to better watch the northern boundaries. Boromir's first stone struck that guard square on his helmet. We heard the clang all the way up here." Eowyn laughed, covering her mouth with her hand, feeling the cool of the stone still in her grasp. "Father tried to put an end to our midnight adventures, but we found other mischief to cause. We were quite the pair, my brother and I."
Eowyn smiled gently, and leaned forward again. The drop below her made her stomach squirm, but she locked her eyes upon the watchtower and let her own stone fly. It dropped silently onto the tower, bouncing twice before rolling to rest. Faramir laughed and raised his arm, almost clapping her upon the back before catching himself and flushing slightly. "Well done, my lady. You have a wonderful eye for aim." He fell silent and they sat, saying nothing, staring out at the jeweled night sky as the wind tousled through their hair.
Eowyn lifted her chin, savoring the whisper-soft touch of the evening breeze as it stirred the hair at the nape of her neck. Her eyes sought the North, where Valacirca circled low in the sky. "The Sickle of the Valar," she said softly, reaching out her hand to point, as if to caress the distant points of light with her fingers. "Many nights I saw it from the dais at Edoras, circling beyond Fangorn, ever present, and dreamed of what lay out there, under that sky."
"It was said of old that the Seven Stars are sparks from the forge of Aule." Faramir's eyes were clear and hopeful, shining in the light of the moon. "But it is also said that they were hung in the North by Varda as a sign, foretelling the fall of Morgoth. Beren sang of it as he despaired in Sauron's pits, for it reminded him ever of Elbereth and her promise that evil would not prevail." Eowyn's sight was suddenly blurred and the stars softened into pearls of light in a dark velvet sky. Faramir turned to her, and his brow furrowed in care as a tear began a slow journey over the apple of Eowyn's cheek. With his thumb he smoothed it away, his hand lingering upon her jaw, and he marveled at the softness of her skin. "Do not despair, Lady Eowyn. All is not lost, and we cannot see what will come with the dawn." His voice was soft and gentle, husky yet full of unspoken feeling.
Eowyn raised her hand and rested it upon his own, pressing his palm to her face. "I do not weep from fear, Lord, nor from despair. These tears are born of hope, for how could anyone look upon Elbereth's ancient promise and not be moved?" A slow smile crossed Faramir's face, and his heart leapt at the feel of Eowyn's hand upon his own. "I cannot begin to tell you what your companionship has meant to me in these days." She paused, her eyes still shining with unshed tears. "Yet more than companion, I call you friend."
Faramir gazed upon her, taking in her face, memorizing the way the wind sent her hair fluttering over his hand. "That means more to me than I can tell, Eowyn, for I have wished for your friendship since I first saw you in the Gardens." He fell silent, unable to speak as his heart pounded in his chest. Eowyn dipped her head and her lips brushed his palm as more tears dropped from her eyes, staining the sleeve of Faramir's tunic. At her touch, soft as satin, Faramir shivered and his breath caught in his chest. He clenched his other hand tightly against his leg, denying the urge to reach up and caress the other side of Eowyn's face, fighting the desire to capture her lips with his own. "I esteem you above all, my Lady, and wish you all joy." He paused, searching for words, calming his breath. "Hope is a choice that we must make every day, knowingly, willingly. I pray that you will continue to choose it as we face these final days." Faramir dropped his eyes and squeezed them tightly shut, for what he wished to say was, Choose me, my lady! Choose me in these final days...
But he spoke no more, but instead twined his fingers with Eowyn's and clasped her hand tightly in his own. Together they watched the stars wheel overhead and the moon journey across the sky, and there were no words needed between them as the evening waned into morning.