Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings.

A/N: This is a sort of AU story...what if Faramir and Eowyn had met before RotK as children. Takes place in Northern Ithilien. Oh and for this fic I kind of messed with the ages of them, so Faramir is only one year older than Eowyn. Sorry if that throws you.

I love reviews. I really do. ;)

Chapter 1

In Northern Ithilien, a slender, alert figure stood upon a flat hill, gazing down at a valley filled with enemies streaming out of the Black Gate. All of the armies of Mordor had gathered; the Orcs now followed a Dark Lord more evil than any living thing. Sauron was ready to conquer. Now they stood below the figure, threatening the freedom of all the countries of Middle Earth.

The figure drew its sword. The blade rang true, echoing and drawing the attention of the Orcs down below. Some snarled defiantly, but most of the gruesome creatures cowered and slunk back from the bright figure, shining in the sun.

Then Sauron stepped forward.

"Who dares to stand before me?" the creature of evil hissed, black mist crawling around him and toward the lone figure. "Know you not that evil has come? No living man may hinder me!"

"I am no man!" the figure said softly, icily, tossing back her hood, swinging her sword into action and leaping forward.

The woman let out a battle cry as she leapt toward her enemy.

"A woman?" Sauron crowed. "The Kings of the world would send a woman to do battle with me?"

"I am no ordinary woman," she said boldly. "I am Morwen, warrior maiden. I fear neither death nor pain, and I will slay you if Eru allows it."

Sauron hissed, and drew his sword, though Morwen could feel fear radiating from the masked figure. She would win. Good would triumph.

--

"Ahhhhhhh!" thirteen-year-old Eowyn cried, jumping forward and stabbing her stick into thin air. "Take that, Lord of Mordor! Let that teach you to underestimate the power of a woman!"

Her imagined Sauron sunk to his knees, the power flooding out of him. Eowyn stood over him triumphantly, knowing that her enemy would never again threaten Middle Earth. But before she was quite done celebrating, a quiet voice penetrated her imaginings and made her jump.

"The power of a woman?"

Eowyn whirled around, her stick brandished defensively in front of her and a determined look on her face.

Standing not five yards away, wielding a stick of his own, was a tall, slim boy, his dark brown hair blowing in the wind.

"Who are you?" Eowyn said half angrily. Who was this boy to intrude upon her battle? How much had he heard?

"I might ask you the same thing," the boy answered calmly, lowering his sword ever so slightly.

"I…" still caught up in her daydream, Eowyn decided to test the newcomer, "I am Morwen, defender of all free lands."

The boy's lips curved in the slightest of smiles, and he said, "And I am Isildur, King of Gondor."

Eowyn allowed herself a small smile. So he knew how to pretend. All the better.

"I am honored to meet you, O bravest of kings," she said, inclining her head ever so slightly. She hated curtseying.

"And I you, Lady Morwen the Valiant," Isildur replied, bowing nobly.

Eowyn stared at the boy intently. Had she seen him before? The answer lurked somewhere in the back of her mind…

"—you fighting?" the boy was asking.

"Oh…what?" she said, coming out of her daydream.

"I said, who were you fighting? I heard you say, 'Lord of Mordor'. Were you fighting Sauron?"

"Oh…you heard that," Eowyn murmured, blushing. "I…I defeated him."

"I see," said the boy. He scratched his head, and then looked at her with a smile. "I have fought him before; many times."

Eowyn grinned thankfully, and then neither spoke. The silence was deafening.

"Where are you from?" Eowyn finally asked.

"Where was Isildur from?" Isildur asked with a grin, sitting down on the damp grass and looking over at the smooth lake that lay just beyond the hill. Eowyn sat next to him.

"You're from Gondor?"

The boy inclined his head, and Eowyn felt a thrill run through her. Maybe that's where she had seen him before. Théoden, her uncle, had brought her, Eomer, her brother, and his own son Theodred to Ithilian to meet with Denethor, the steward of Gondor. Some diplomatic meeting, Eowyn was sure.

But she had always wanted to visit Ithilien, and though she was a bit disappointed about the lack of enemies, every place she went was breathtakingly beautiful. From crystalline waterfalls to the greenest of valleys, Ithilien was the place of dreams. Denethor's company and Théoden's were camped together, in the most beautiful valley of them all. She closed her eyes and let a soft wind from the east dance across her face.

"Where are you from?" Isildur asked.

"Rohan," Eowyn said proudly. She loved her country, the Land of Horses.

"So you're a follower of King Théoden."

It wasn't a question. This boy obviously knew his politics.

"Yes. And your leader is Lord Denethor."

Eowyn wasn't going to let some boy try to impress her with knowledge. She could spout off as many names as he could, if not more.

"So, what do you think of your liege lord?" Isildur asked.

"He's the bravest king in the whole world," Eowyn stated impulsively.

Isildur threw back his head and laughed, and she immediately regretted saying it, her cheeks turning pink.

"I…I mean…"

"I'm sure he's very brave," the boy said gently, a smile playing at the edge of his mouth. "And what do you think of Denethor?"

"He's…" Eowyn looked away from the boy.

"He's what?"

She looked back up and found his searching grey eyes staring into hers, seeking an answer. Now, Eowyn realized that he was not much older than her. Maybe a year or two.

"He's not a king," she said simply.

Isildur's face didn't change, but his eyes lost some of their warmth, and his next question was cold.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well it would be all right if he had fought in a battle or something. Then he would be a great steward, almost worthy of being called a king," Eowyn said quickly, looking down again.

When no answer came from Isildur, she glanced back up at him. His cold grey eyes were no longer on her, but on the lake. A thoughtful, almost wistful look was in them, as he said, "Wars do not bring greatness, not battles lasting glory."

"Don't they?" Eowyn said distractedly.

"No. You just said that Théoden was the greatest king ever to rule Rohan. He hasn't fought in any great battle," the boy said, turning back to her.

Eowyn felt herself turning red again.

"What do you mean?" she asked angrily.

"What?" Isildur asked, cocking his head questioningly. "I didn't mean anything. But Théoden isn't exactly a great warrior; from what you just said, anyway."

Eowyn, being who she was, took this as an insult. Immediately, she jumped to her feet and grabbed the stick.

"Pick up your sword," she said through gritted teeth.

"What?" Isildur asked from where he was seated. When he saw her stick, he cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I challenge you to a duel," Eowyn said earnestly. "To the death."

--

To be continued...