Disclaimer- Sadly, I do not own Faramir. I am just borrowing him for my own
odd uses. Please don't sue!
Summary- Eowyn and Faramir, newly married, share stories of their pasts as their future unfolds. PG- 13 for angst and a little Eowyn/Faramir pairing.
Chapter One- Jumping
Giddy was one word never used to describe the White Lady of Rohan. Withdrawn, maybe, noble, of course, strong, undeniably, proud, without a doubt- yes, all these, but never giddy. To see Eowyn smile was oftentimes a miracle in itself.
I was hoping for a small grin, maybe a satisfied nod, as I opened the door to the Steward's Quarters in Minas Tirith. I certainly was not prepared for a squeal. Yes, Eowyn squealed. She rushed into the cloak room with a broad smile on her face. In my opinion, the area was not much at all, but then again, I was more accustomed to these sorts of things. She had often felt overwhelmed by the sheer size of things in Gondor, which surpassed her homeland's, but I noticed now that she liked it a little, especially when it was her own apartments.
She continued into the sitting room in a hurry, whirling about, trying to take in every aspect of the room at once. I smiled to see her drift towards the bookshelves on which I had placed the books I most dearly loved. It had been a hard decision, to pick only fifty. Why, if Boromir had to pick, he...
I stopped myself. There would be no reminiscing over any of my woes today, nor tomorrow, nor, as I hoped, for as long as I lived. That was hopeless, I knew, to forget about my life before Eowyn for all of eternity, but I simply could not ruin the mood for my own wedding. There would be other days to think of my brother and father, days when it would not hurt so much or take away from my new life.
"So many books," she said, running her supple fingers over their spines. I puzzled over her use of the word "many", before it occurred to me. The people of Rohan had no written language of their own, so even a few books in one place must have seemed extraordinary to her.
Eowyn plucked a book from its place and looked through it. Her face fell a little as she realized that she could not read it. I imagined that she did not like to learn that there was something she could not do. It hurt her fierce pride more than anything to be surrounded by so much that reinforced her shortcomings.
I could not bear to see her unhappy, especially when the cause of it were things I held close. I went over to her and placed my hand over hers on the yellowing pages. It was one of my favorites, dealing with Numenor, and its eventual destruction. Somehow, it seemed less fascinating to me than it had before, maybe because of the beautiful woman standing at my side. "I could help you read this, my lady, if it would please you. For a woman of your wit, I doubt it would take you long to learn."
She looked up at me and smiled, a soft grin I found enticing and comforting. Often, when my thoughts strayed to more unpleasant things, she would notice, and give that same grin. I wondered why she used it now. Perhaps she had noticed how I had lingered on upsetting memories for too long. She was wise, very wise, and I found myself almost vulnerable in front of her, she knew my mind so well.
With a sigh, she looked at the book again. "You know how to soothe my pride, my lord. A good trait to have," she said, weighing the heavy volume in her hands before giving it to me. Then she was off again, hurrying towards another door.
"It's locked," she exclaimed, tugging at the knob. "Faramir, why am I locked out of my own home? What is in here?" Annoyance had crept into her voice as pushed hopelessly at the large door.
Placing the book of Numenor on a table, I looked over at her. "That's Father's study," I said absentmindedly. Almost, I felt scared for being in his rooms. Would he not punish me?
"Is it not your study now?" she asked, seeming a little confused. Of course, I remembered, biting my lip, everyone knew that Father was... dead... and I was the Steward now.
"Yes, that's what I meant. It's just hard for me to think of it that way," I said, a heat rising in my face. Now Eowyn would think me an idiot who could not even remember that he was the last living member of his family. I always seemed to mess up in the smallest ways like that.
To my surprise, she nodded. "I still think it odd whenever anyone refers to Eomer as king. I keep thinking that Theoden would find it amusing, and then I remember..." she broke off and sighed.
"I'm sorry, my lady. I did not mean to stir up bitter memories for you," I said, feeling as stupid and boorish as I could be. Now, look what I had done, turned her thoughts back to those of death and despair.
"Do not be sorry, my lord, it just never occurred to me how you would think of these apartments. Does it not bother you to be here?" she asked, crossing to me and laying one soft hand on my arm.
"No, not much, only to be in the study. All of Father's records are in there, and until I can clear them out, it shall haunt me a little." I smiled at her, trying not to let myself be drowned in the past. "Come, you have not even seen the bedroom."
I did not have to speak twice. Eowyn was off in a flash, hardly able to contain her excitement as she realized that she had not even explored her own sleeping chamber. I followed her, and surveyed the room, almost unable to contain my excitement. I thought I had redecorated it quite well. The bed was brand new, lavishly carved by the best woodworker in town. It was covered in deep blue quilts and rich red pillows, all of which I had picked out myself. The window, which faced east to Ithilien, offered a lovely view of the Pelennor, which had been replanted and now flourished. A fire was going in the hearth, casting a multitude of dancing shadows over the walls.
Eowyn was running her hand over the blankets, an odd look in her eyes. "It reminds me of Theoden's bed. Eomer, Theodred and I would all leap on it as children because we loved feeling like we could fly." She cast a playful glance my way and stepped out of her shoes. To my amazement, she climbed up and stood on the bed, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other. Suddenly, with a laugh, she jumped up and landed safely back on the mattress in a ball. "It even has the same high ceilings," she said, a smile playing about her lips.
"Faramir," she implored, extending a hand to me, "Jump with me!"
"Eowyn! I hardly think it's proper," I exclaimed, barely able to contain my amusement.
With a giggle, she stood and began to jump again. "Your loss, my lord!" she cried in delight.
I sighed. There would be no winning with this woman. In resignation, I bent over to remove my boots. Once finished, I rose and looked up at her. She looked so content, spinning and falling and laughing. I frowned and shook my head at her.
Her smile faded and I could imagine her thinking that I was too stuffy for. I could even imagine that right then she was trying to figure a way out of marriage to an uptight old man. "I'm sorry, my lord," she said, sounding like a guilty child.
"You should be," I said in my most serious voice. I climbed onto the bed beside her and lightly kissed her forehead. "I detest it when you call me 'my lord'".
The smile returned to light up her face. "I am sorry for my grave mistake," she laughed. "Will you forgive me, Faramir?"
I leaned my forehead against hers and smiled. I had always despised my name until the first time she had uttered it. Afterwards it had always sounded so much sweeter, more intense. I wished to hear her say it as often as possible. "I must punish you, of course," I continued, keeping my voice somber.
"Oh please, don't be too harsh," she said in mock fear.
"I condemn you, then, to jump with me!" Immediately I was on my feet, and she followed suit. We jumped, laughing and joking, for over thirty minutes, until we collapsed in a breathless heap together.
"I never guessed, my lady, that you would be the one to lead me in such antics," I said lightly, stretching out onto my back.
"Now that's not fair," she said, rolling so that her head fell onto my chest. "If I cannot call you 'my lord', then you shall not call me 'my lady'."
"Agreed," I said, wrapping an arm around her slight frame. "Eowyn?" I said, trailing my fingers through her hair.
"Yes, Faramir?" she said, inching closer, throwing an arm across my stomach.
"Do you love me?"
She sat up suddenly to look at me. "We are to be wed tomorrow, and yet you ask this? I thought that you were supposed to be wise. I do not wish to marry a fool."
"I would just like to be reassured," I said, turning on my side to face her. "Too little have I ever been told I am worth anything, and I would just like you to say it is so, if indeed it is."
"My dearest Faramir, have my assurance that I do love you, and you are worth more to me now than anything else could ever hope to be."
"I return the sentiment, love."
We were silent for a while. She lay back down beside me and I thought for a little bit that she had fallen asleep. I was about to join her when she spoke. "I believe it is getting late, and I want to have enough energy for tomorrow," she said quietly. "May I take your leave?"
"I would not grant your wish, if I did not want tomorrow to come sooner. You have my leave, lady." I released her from my arms and smiled up at her.
"My lord, tomorrow will come soon enough." She did not say more, just curtsied and left me alone. As I heard the door close, I could not help but laugh. Imagine, the lady who slew the Witch King, jumping on a bed like an overgrown child! Truly, it was more than my luck to marry such a woman.
Summary- Eowyn and Faramir, newly married, share stories of their pasts as their future unfolds. PG- 13 for angst and a little Eowyn/Faramir pairing.
Chapter One- Jumping
Giddy was one word never used to describe the White Lady of Rohan. Withdrawn, maybe, noble, of course, strong, undeniably, proud, without a doubt- yes, all these, but never giddy. To see Eowyn smile was oftentimes a miracle in itself.
I was hoping for a small grin, maybe a satisfied nod, as I opened the door to the Steward's Quarters in Minas Tirith. I certainly was not prepared for a squeal. Yes, Eowyn squealed. She rushed into the cloak room with a broad smile on her face. In my opinion, the area was not much at all, but then again, I was more accustomed to these sorts of things. She had often felt overwhelmed by the sheer size of things in Gondor, which surpassed her homeland's, but I noticed now that she liked it a little, especially when it was her own apartments.
She continued into the sitting room in a hurry, whirling about, trying to take in every aspect of the room at once. I smiled to see her drift towards the bookshelves on which I had placed the books I most dearly loved. It had been a hard decision, to pick only fifty. Why, if Boromir had to pick, he...
I stopped myself. There would be no reminiscing over any of my woes today, nor tomorrow, nor, as I hoped, for as long as I lived. That was hopeless, I knew, to forget about my life before Eowyn for all of eternity, but I simply could not ruin the mood for my own wedding. There would be other days to think of my brother and father, days when it would not hurt so much or take away from my new life.
"So many books," she said, running her supple fingers over their spines. I puzzled over her use of the word "many", before it occurred to me. The people of Rohan had no written language of their own, so even a few books in one place must have seemed extraordinary to her.
Eowyn plucked a book from its place and looked through it. Her face fell a little as she realized that she could not read it. I imagined that she did not like to learn that there was something she could not do. It hurt her fierce pride more than anything to be surrounded by so much that reinforced her shortcomings.
I could not bear to see her unhappy, especially when the cause of it were things I held close. I went over to her and placed my hand over hers on the yellowing pages. It was one of my favorites, dealing with Numenor, and its eventual destruction. Somehow, it seemed less fascinating to me than it had before, maybe because of the beautiful woman standing at my side. "I could help you read this, my lady, if it would please you. For a woman of your wit, I doubt it would take you long to learn."
She looked up at me and smiled, a soft grin I found enticing and comforting. Often, when my thoughts strayed to more unpleasant things, she would notice, and give that same grin. I wondered why she used it now. Perhaps she had noticed how I had lingered on upsetting memories for too long. She was wise, very wise, and I found myself almost vulnerable in front of her, she knew my mind so well.
With a sigh, she looked at the book again. "You know how to soothe my pride, my lord. A good trait to have," she said, weighing the heavy volume in her hands before giving it to me. Then she was off again, hurrying towards another door.
"It's locked," she exclaimed, tugging at the knob. "Faramir, why am I locked out of my own home? What is in here?" Annoyance had crept into her voice as pushed hopelessly at the large door.
Placing the book of Numenor on a table, I looked over at her. "That's Father's study," I said absentmindedly. Almost, I felt scared for being in his rooms. Would he not punish me?
"Is it not your study now?" she asked, seeming a little confused. Of course, I remembered, biting my lip, everyone knew that Father was... dead... and I was the Steward now.
"Yes, that's what I meant. It's just hard for me to think of it that way," I said, a heat rising in my face. Now Eowyn would think me an idiot who could not even remember that he was the last living member of his family. I always seemed to mess up in the smallest ways like that.
To my surprise, she nodded. "I still think it odd whenever anyone refers to Eomer as king. I keep thinking that Theoden would find it amusing, and then I remember..." she broke off and sighed.
"I'm sorry, my lady. I did not mean to stir up bitter memories for you," I said, feeling as stupid and boorish as I could be. Now, look what I had done, turned her thoughts back to those of death and despair.
"Do not be sorry, my lord, it just never occurred to me how you would think of these apartments. Does it not bother you to be here?" she asked, crossing to me and laying one soft hand on my arm.
"No, not much, only to be in the study. All of Father's records are in there, and until I can clear them out, it shall haunt me a little." I smiled at her, trying not to let myself be drowned in the past. "Come, you have not even seen the bedroom."
I did not have to speak twice. Eowyn was off in a flash, hardly able to contain her excitement as she realized that she had not even explored her own sleeping chamber. I followed her, and surveyed the room, almost unable to contain my excitement. I thought I had redecorated it quite well. The bed was brand new, lavishly carved by the best woodworker in town. It was covered in deep blue quilts and rich red pillows, all of which I had picked out myself. The window, which faced east to Ithilien, offered a lovely view of the Pelennor, which had been replanted and now flourished. A fire was going in the hearth, casting a multitude of dancing shadows over the walls.
Eowyn was running her hand over the blankets, an odd look in her eyes. "It reminds me of Theoden's bed. Eomer, Theodred and I would all leap on it as children because we loved feeling like we could fly." She cast a playful glance my way and stepped out of her shoes. To my amazement, she climbed up and stood on the bed, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other. Suddenly, with a laugh, she jumped up and landed safely back on the mattress in a ball. "It even has the same high ceilings," she said, a smile playing about her lips.
"Faramir," she implored, extending a hand to me, "Jump with me!"
"Eowyn! I hardly think it's proper," I exclaimed, barely able to contain my amusement.
With a giggle, she stood and began to jump again. "Your loss, my lord!" she cried in delight.
I sighed. There would be no winning with this woman. In resignation, I bent over to remove my boots. Once finished, I rose and looked up at her. She looked so content, spinning and falling and laughing. I frowned and shook my head at her.
Her smile faded and I could imagine her thinking that I was too stuffy for. I could even imagine that right then she was trying to figure a way out of marriage to an uptight old man. "I'm sorry, my lord," she said, sounding like a guilty child.
"You should be," I said in my most serious voice. I climbed onto the bed beside her and lightly kissed her forehead. "I detest it when you call me 'my lord'".
The smile returned to light up her face. "I am sorry for my grave mistake," she laughed. "Will you forgive me, Faramir?"
I leaned my forehead against hers and smiled. I had always despised my name until the first time she had uttered it. Afterwards it had always sounded so much sweeter, more intense. I wished to hear her say it as often as possible. "I must punish you, of course," I continued, keeping my voice somber.
"Oh please, don't be too harsh," she said in mock fear.
"I condemn you, then, to jump with me!" Immediately I was on my feet, and she followed suit. We jumped, laughing and joking, for over thirty minutes, until we collapsed in a breathless heap together.
"I never guessed, my lady, that you would be the one to lead me in such antics," I said lightly, stretching out onto my back.
"Now that's not fair," she said, rolling so that her head fell onto my chest. "If I cannot call you 'my lord', then you shall not call me 'my lady'."
"Agreed," I said, wrapping an arm around her slight frame. "Eowyn?" I said, trailing my fingers through her hair.
"Yes, Faramir?" she said, inching closer, throwing an arm across my stomach.
"Do you love me?"
She sat up suddenly to look at me. "We are to be wed tomorrow, and yet you ask this? I thought that you were supposed to be wise. I do not wish to marry a fool."
"I would just like to be reassured," I said, turning on my side to face her. "Too little have I ever been told I am worth anything, and I would just like you to say it is so, if indeed it is."
"My dearest Faramir, have my assurance that I do love you, and you are worth more to me now than anything else could ever hope to be."
"I return the sentiment, love."
We were silent for a while. She lay back down beside me and I thought for a little bit that she had fallen asleep. I was about to join her when she spoke. "I believe it is getting late, and I want to have enough energy for tomorrow," she said quietly. "May I take your leave?"
"I would not grant your wish, if I did not want tomorrow to come sooner. You have my leave, lady." I released her from my arms and smiled up at her.
"My lord, tomorrow will come soon enough." She did not say more, just curtsied and left me alone. As I heard the door close, I could not help but laugh. Imagine, the lady who slew the Witch King, jumping on a bed like an overgrown child! Truly, it was more than my luck to marry such a woman.