A Legacy of Faith

---          flashback

--- --- --- scene change

//             present time

If one were to inquire as to how and when they met Eowyn would recall nothing of their time together, save that it was a series of meetings and sensations and moments of madness in a dark time. The memory of when they first truly discovered one another never surfaced again after the lost seconds when she first looked into his proud face. Eowyn knew only that they had met, they loved, and one day he departed her world and never returned. News of anywhere other than Gondor seldom reached the walls of Rohan, and had Eowyn known where Boromir son of Denethor was she would have given up faith long ago -- for under the same warming rays of sun, and the crystal blue sky, Boromir was dying.

His words came from a throat strangled with effort as blood leaked from a broken body through the way of his mouth, seeping between his lips; stark, red and cruel against his ghostly pale skin. Aragorn hovered over him, speaking breathlessly and trying not to let his broken will fall through his words. Nothing it seemed could keep Boromir from slipping into the final stages of his passing.

And it was true; blackness was washing over Boromir's vision and eating away at his senses as his body failed and blanched at the last, unable to support him. The very air around Boromir was thick and bitter, and it scoured his throat with every gasping breath. Aragorn worked feverishly above him, wrapping his bloody fingers around the shaft of one of the arrows and preparing to remove it.

---

Faramir had been grinning all morning, and the grin only widened a few centimeters by the time he finally handed his brother the package wrapped in brown paper. 'For your thirty-fourth year alive, brother. Happy Birthday.' Hesitance crossed Boromir's gaze as he weighed the possibilities of this being some harmful prank Faramir was famous for on each of his birthdays.

'You should not have bothered, Faramir.' He said after a moment and tucked it under his arm with a smile before he mounted his steed. Boromir chucked the reins. 'There is no time.'

Faramir gently dug his heels into his horse and sided up to Boromir's as they headed forward. 'Have you any idea why Theoden King sent for our return the same day we were to head back to Minas Tirith?'

'No, but the journey from Rohan to Gondor is not an easy, or short route.' the older man looked grim. 'I certainly hope there is good reason for it.' Faramir smiled inwardly, thinking of the expression on his brother's face when all of Rohan (most, anyway) would suddenly appear from out of nowhere and –

'Aye, probably another Orc raid, brother.'

They said no more as they left their camp and followed the messenger back to Rohan through the day. They had left not a day before, so the journey back was not long, for they had not traveled far upon their departure. Boromir's men and Faramir's men had stayed behind, for they were weary with fatigue and were supposed to be in the captain's stead. There was no sign of them along the way until they approached the

gates of Rohan.

The messenger was first to dismount, then Faramir and finally Boromir. They were met with guards this time and the guards held grim faces and eyes that all seemed fixed on Boromir, and the wind blew colder as they approached. The heir of Denethor tilted his head in wonder.

'Boromir of Gondor,' the first began, pulling chain links from his belt. 'You are under arrest.'

Faramir's eyes widened and he looked from his brother to the messenger, then to the guards; his voice was unusually high and piped. 'On what charge, sir?'

'You'll find out soon enough, captain.' the second guard said, binding Boromir's wrists securely and seizing his arm. Boromir began to resist, but Faramir's hand gripped his elbow hard.

'No, brother, first let us see if we cannot solve this matter through words.' he looked to guards, then into his brother's indignant grey eyes. He smiled this time, and Boromir caught a glint of something in his younger brother's eyes. 'This must be a misunderstanding, Boromir. Worry not.'

Boromir was lead through the gates, the guards hauling him through with their hands clamped onto each of his great arms, Faramir in their stead. It seemed quiet at they crossed the first courtyard. Too quiet, and Boromir was about to say something of it when there was a sudden roar of applause and the Riders of Rohan and other servants flooded out from behind the walls and statues and the open doors. Their young friend, Eomer (now a full twenty years old and nearly a man) was the first to run to the still bound Boromir.

'Your eyes betray you, friend!' he laughed, tightly embracing Boromir, who just blinked in still shock. 'Happy birthday!'

Boromir finally broke into a smile and laughed as well, a little uncertainly. He turned annoyed eyes to Faramir as Eomer pulled away. 'You knew of this all along.'

Faramir removed the links from his brother's wrists and threw strong arms around the other man's neck. 'I knew, yes, but it was Eomer who conceived it.' he gave Boromir a rough, affectionate shake and planted a firm kiss on his cheek. 'Happy birthday!'

Boromir laughed loudly this time but swatted his brother over the head. A thought hit him, 'We're going to be late returning, Faramir. Father will not be pleased.'

'The Steward knows, Boromir,' Eomer assured him, winking. 'It was as much his idea as my own.'

Eomer motioned for them to come into the second courtyard where the party was being held, and they followed. Though it slowed their journey back to Minas Tirith, it was certainly a night to remember over all the travels Boromir had made to Rohan. Being allied to them, and being so close to Mordor, he often took his men, and Faramir's to aid in the constant Orc raids. It was a mutual favor.

The sun was setting in the West, and cool breeze was slowly rising over the walls. The birthday party was full of laughter and music and dancing; Faramir was content to sitting at a table with several young maidens of Rohan and speaking of the previous Orc hunt with a broad smile.

Off the winding staircase glided Eowyn, daughter of Eomund and Theodwyn, and Eomer's younger sister of four years. She had no interest in the party, for she often spent time with King Theoden – talking and keeping him company – and had no desire to leave the nice indoors of the castle for a lot of young, arrogant soldiers celebrating another young arrogant soldier's birthday, but Eomer had summoned her. Her light grey eyes scanned the crowd and saw her brother seconds later.

His helmet had been removed and his golden hair hung loosely about his broad shoulders. She exhaled softly and absently flipped her long hair behind her back and lifted the ends of her pale gown so she could make her way through the crowd of energetic men. Eomer turned and spotted her.

'Sister!' he smiled broadly, eyes twinkling with pride as soldier's jaws dropped. He took her hand and kissed her cheek lightly, then stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders. 'Surely you remember Captains Boromir and Faramir from Minas Tirith.'

Faramir stepped forward, having left the table of young ladies quite disappointed and graced her hand with a kiss. 'Lady Eowyn, it is good to see you again.' he smiled and stepped aside, looking out the corner of his eye at Boromir. The elder son of Denethor was studying the young woman with an almost suspicious glint in his eyes.

'Eomer, this cannot be your little sister…' he made a full circle around her and Eowyn felt her blood heat up with anger. It was terribly rude and improper to study a Lady as though she were a piece of merchandise.

She spun around folded her arms across her chest and met his grey eyes angrily; he just tilted his head. 'I remember her as a thirteen year old girl covered in mud and challenging one of my knights to a duel.'

Eomer frowned at Boromir but could not help but smile. He, too, often remembered his sister only as the girl that adored battle. 'I remind you that four years have passed since that day, Boromir.'

'And I will remind you that Eowyn is the Lady of Rohan and deserves more respect, brother!' Faramir quietly snapped at Boromir in embarrassment for his brother's rudeness. Eowyn gave a curt nod and smiled at Faramir in gratitude. The younger son of Denethor averted his eyes shyly.

Boromir ignored this and stepped back as though to get a better view. 'You certainly look older. I apologize for failing to recognize you…four years…' he turned his eyes upward in thought, and then met hers again.

'Then you are seventeen now?'

Eowyn spoke for the first time that night. 'Apology accepted, and yes, I am seventeen.' her voice was clear and sweet, but also angry and defiant. She looked up into the sky, frowned, and turned to her brother. 'The evening grows late, brother. I fear I must depart. Do excuse me.'

She began to stride from the premises but her brother stepped in her path. 'Oh, dearest Eowyn, stay and enjoy the party.' he implored with a smile, hand still clasped in hers. 'It has been weeks since you and I have had time to talk, and years since you have seen any of your old…' he looked over his shoulder, then turned back to her with mocking smile. '…Friends.'

Eowyn did not hesitate to swat her brother's arm. 'Stop it. More than half of them do not remember me, and those that do only see that I am a woman now.' she wrinkled her nose in distaste and folded her arms across her chest. 'Among other things.'

'You hold a love for battle but a disliking toward men.' he murmured, pulling her back to the party. She could not help but laugh at her brother's expression, and took his arm reluctantly.

'I do not dislike all men,' she smiled at a few of the passing maidens that waved to her and said to her brother under her breath, 'Arrogant soldiers and heirs, however.'

'Give Boromir a chance.' Eomer ordered her, a little sternly. He was only twenty-one years old and had just become of age to fully accept the title 'Third Marshall of Riddermark', yet he still thought himself decades older than his sister.

This time she turned to look at him fully. 'Pray, brother, a chance at what?' he never answered her. Instead he pulled her to a table of beautifully dressed women and a few of Rohan's Riders and Gondor's knights, all

laughing and chatting. Eowyn gave them all a quick smile and latched onto her brother's arm and steered him away from the table. Or what she thought to be her brother's arm.

'If you wish to dance, M'Lady, you could have let me know before carting me off.' Boromir's deep voice met her ears and she made an audible yelp and leapt away. After a minute she broke into a forced smile and instinctively reached both hands up to straighten her undamaged wheat hair.

'I…my apologies, Captain.' she breathed; bowing a little and spinning on her heal to retreat. Despite what Eomer had said, she was now set on leaving.

'Wait, Lady…one moment.' at his words she reluctantly stopped her strides and turned to face him. He stepped up with a slightly hesitant look and stopped only a foot from her. He smiled and looked her in the light grey eyes. 'Would it spoil your evening to dance?'

'It would.' she gave a curt nod and began to retreat again. 'Goodnight.' Her long sleeves sailed like angel wings around her arms as the wind picked up around her, swirling and sending her dress too the side. Boromir's brows went up as the curve of her hip and the outline of the right side of her body was suddenly – very clearly – visible. He straightened his back and, feeling heat rise in him, followed her with new

exuberance.

'Why is that, Lady?'

Eowyn colored slightly when he was again in front of her, and she took a step back. 'I would thank you to leave me, Boromir,' she whispered harshly, stepping around him. He blinked at her use of his name instead of

'lord' or 'captain' and blocked her path once more. 'I have no desire to prance around the courtyard with a bullheaded soldier.' her voice was almost a growl, though her eyes portrayed different emotions.

'Ill-favored words from such a beautiful little girl.' he kept his distance, not wanting to frighten her away. She was shorter than he by a good three or four inches, and he loomed over her. Her eyes hardened now and her porcelain skin tinged pink after he spoke. She frowned.

'A little girl?!'

'You no longer see yourself as a child?' he tried his best to keep his eyes on her face, but being a man he found it exceedingly difficult. Indeed, you are not, he thought to himself, as she tore at his question in a high-pitched but dignified protest. He only smiled and continued to study her face as it went through a series of interesting expressions and color changes (while still trying not to let his eyes wander elsewhere). It was clear his stance was getting to her.

' – And should you ever speak to me in such a manner again I shall find a way to force you into respect!' she lifted her chin and glared. 'Even if I have to draw my own sword to do the job. Goodnight.' This time he stepped aside and allowed her passage back to the staircase. She stared for a moment, as though expecting more resistance from him but only received a blank stare right back. Eowyn, seventeen years old and feeling seventy, moved quickly past him and up the stairs.

'Boromir, you would not be my brother if you were actually present at your own birthday party.' Faramir's gentle voice brought him back to reality, but not enough to take his gaze from Eowyn. She moved so delicately it was as though she were floating instead of storming off in anger at his haughtiness. In a flash of a second she whirled around at the top of the steps for one last glance at him, then turned into the castle once again.

Faramir had also caught the last glance, and the look in his brother's eyes. He slapped a firm hand on the other man's back. 'There is something on your mind.'

'Aye, there is.'

'I do not doubt I know what it is, Boromir.' he said, and had to physically pull his brother from the bottom of the staircase, which was no longer as difficult as it used to be. He was twenty-nine years old and had caught up to his brother in height, but not in brute strength. He kept a hand on Boromir's forearm as he steered his brother to one of the tables, making sure it was empty.

Boromir finally turned his eyes to his brother, the reflection of the other man mirrored in the clear grey. 'Tell me, Faramir…' he began, giving the staircase one last glance. 'Are women as difficult with you as they are with me?'

'What little I remember of mother was her sweet voice.' Faramir began, casting his eyes from his brother's gaze. '…Always telling me to treat all women as if they were Elven princesses. Father did not take a liking to her always telling me myths of the fair folk, but she persisted.'

'Now that I remember.' Boromir laughed, then stopped, looking a little confused. 'But she told me only once – the rest of the time I suppose I was trying to fence.'

'You would sooner marry your sword than any woman,' Faramir stated bluntly, though he repressed laughter. 'Always fighting, fighting, fighting and never a moment to look at the beauty around you.'  Somewhat annoyed with the last comment, Boromir reached across the table and tousled his brother's hair, receiving a still boyish yelp. He smirked and pulled back quickly enough to avoid Faramir's palm, coming up to swat the side of his head.

'Why do I need a woman to pester me? I have you, do I not?' he joked, and Faramir snorted in irritancy. After a moment of silence, he turned to Faramir and said, though a little more quietly, 'She has grown up, however. If it was not for her eyes and the color of her hair I would never have recognized her.'

'Sometime tells me you take a liking to more than just her eyes and hair.'

Boromir turned in spurious shock. 'Faramir you surprise me!' then he propped his chin on his palm and tried to hide a smirk. Finally, he gave up. 'Am I wrong to notice how she's changed?'

Faramir just rolled his eyes and finally caught his brother off guard, swatting him across the head.

--- --- ---

Eowyn's face was crumpled into a scowl when she finally made it to her chambers. Boromir had awakened an unearthly rage in that stung like an unwanted kiss, and Eowyn despised it. That did not stop her, however, from leaning against the window in her room and looking down into the party. She spotted Boromir almost instantly. She exhaled sharply when she saw him shove Faramir playfully, and then get shoved back. However much older he was than she – 17 years older, it was – he still acted like a –

'Like a spoiled, arrogant prince.' she muttered, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder once more out of habit. Her eyes moved to Faramir, the younger one, and she once again felt the urge to roll her eyes.

Faramir was a kinder, gentler, even boyish version of his brother, and would probably make a good friend. That is, she added ruefully, if he lives to see the light of another day, she thought, watching Boromir dive tackle Faramir, and Eomer pounce the other two. Several more males followed and Eowyn moved from her window to her bed.

She allowed an exasperated sigh escape her lips as she threw herself into the blissful feather bed. Why, she wondered, if she hated the man so much, could she not help the fluttering of butterflies well up in her chest at the thought of him? She turned to the side and crossed her arms over her chest, thinking of how she wanted to slap the smirk from his face.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Eowyn sat straight up in a panic, moved quickly and quietly to her window to close it (no need for anyone to see she had taken an interest in the party) and then sat back on her bed. She cleared her throat and told whomever it was to enter.