I have no excuse for how long it took me to update this. I suck. Thanks to all who were so kind to read and review...I will try valiently to keep working on this and not be so negligent next time.
It was the stillest hour of night's darkness. The only light spilled weakly from a guttering candle at Faramir's bedside, and from the red moon that was skating slowly across the sky. Eowyn crouched in front of the hearth, absently stirring a cauldron full of soiled bandages, soaking away their filth. Around her was piled roll after roll of clean bandages, the result of hours of tedious work. She was weary to her very bones, the sort of weariness that aches from the tip of the toes to the crown of the head. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a corner and sleep for the rest of her life.
Straightening from the fire, she shuffled to Faramir's bedside. Earlier in the night she had pulled a heavy wooden chair close to the bed and created a little nest of quilts and pillows, intending to steal moments of sleep here and there. But her mind would not allow her any rest. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the faces of the men in the hall, the young, battered soldiers and their terrible wounds. So instead she curled her body into the pillows and sat silently watching Faramir sleep.
He slept like a little boy, she decided, sprawled and wild, all arms and legs, tossing and turning in his fever sleep. Two patches of florid color burned on his cheeks, bright against the pale white of the rest of his face, and his hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead and fringing his eyelashes.
Eowyn leaned forward and laid her cool hand across his forehead. She was checking for fever, of course, but she finally had to admit to herself that she was as much seeking to touch him to convince herself that he was still with her. Faramir had been her one touchstone, the only person who had not left her to ride to war. He was the only one she could speak to, cling to in these horrible days, and the only one who could understand what she was feeling. She didn't think that she could bear for him to leave her, not now. After all she had lost in the days past, for him to die would be a blow she could not withstand.
She settled back into her chair, pulling a blanket tightly around her body, seeking to diminish the cool of the night air as well as to find some comfort in the swaddling. She closed her eyes, pulling her feet up to tuck them under the quilt as well, and she rested her cheek against the smooth wood of the chair's headrest. She could feel sleep niggling at the corners of her consciousness, beckoning, but it could not battle past the fear in her heart.
Then she heard it.
It wasn't anything more than a little moaning exhale, a quiet sigh. Eowyn darted to her feet, eyes wide and weariness forgotten, and she bent over Faramir. She enfolded one of his hands in her own, clutching it, willing him back to wakefulness. With her other hand she smoothed the hair away from his eyes, and softly called his name.
Faramir's lashes fluttered, as if stirred by the wind, but he did not open his eyes. He moaned again and Eowyn bent closer, turning her ear to catch his voice. A quiet name passed his lips and tears sprang to Eowyn's eyes. He was calling for his brother. Eowyn brushed her hand across his forehead again, feeling the softness of his hair under her fingers. A tear escaped and tracked down her cheek, warm and wet. She hoped that he knew, somehow, that she was with him, that he was not alone.
Faramir gave another low moan and his hands clenched reflexively, curling into white-knuckled fists. His body gave a shiver, legs and arms trembling with a palsy of fever. Eowyn clasped one of his hands, gently prying the fingers open, and she slipped her palm into his. His fingers closed around hers, but gently, and the restless trembling in his limbs slowed.
"I'm here, my lord," Eowyn whispered, bending close to Faramir's face. "I'm here, and you're safe. I'll take care of you. Rest, lord." She softly squeezed Faramir's fingers, and he clasped her hand more tightly in response. With her other hand, Eowyn gently stroked the skin on the inside of his forearm, wondering at how soft and smooth it was compared to his calloused palm.
Faramir gave a deep sigh and rolled his head against the pillows. Eowyn hooked her toe around the foot of her chair and tugged it closer, and she leaned against the bed, her fingers still entwined with Faramir's. She lowered her head and nestled her cheek against the curve of Faramir's jaw. She could faintly hear the strong cadence of his heart beating, and the low rhythm of his breath. She closed her eyes and sighed, rubbing her thumb over the top of Faramir's hand. As weariness closed in around her, she breathed deeply the scent of Faramir's sweat and of the liniments and salves on his skin.
Finally, sweetly, sleep came.