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Heaving a sigh , Faramir looked up at himself in the mirror. He thought his new relationship with Eowyn would be smooth sailing. And on Eowyn’s end it certainly was. But this was Faramir’s first relationship. First ever crush, first ever kiss, first ever… anything. And he had the pleasure to experience it with the woman he would call his wife in a month or two. Eowyn was still indecisive about the date. She still longed to stay with her brother for his coronation, which was tonight, the Gondorian man had to remind himself. Trying to distract himself, he fidgeted with his braided hair, which Eowyn had plaited neatly, and he brought it over his shoulder to examine. It wasn’t perfect, certainly not: but Faramir’s shoulder was still aching from the poisoned dart. And while he was fully healed, he still had trouble moving it back , which he soon found out meant he struggled to pull a bow to shoot or to hold a sword properly. He couldn’t help but picture his father scornfully shaking his head, not with pity , but with disdain and bitterness. Of one who was unworthy of even holding a weapon. That his elder brother could do better.
It was difficult to remember they were both dead. There was no one to compare him to , no one to scold him. No one was breathing down his neck with judgment to see if he had done well or not. He still had Mithrandir, at the very least, right? And Imrahil, perhaps. He knew Imrahil would most likely walk him down the aisle, but he wanted Gandalf there too, as he was a father figure to him like no other. Eowyn had discussed that she did not want to be ‘given away’ , and as King Theoden was not there, she did not wish for anyone else to, if not him. So Faramir suggested switching places for her comfort, which she eagerly accepted. She still wished to wear royal Rohirrim armor, though Faramir assured her there was no danger and no need , so she agreed on a dress, like the one she was wearing tonight. She was already getting things ready, or so Faramir thought.
Shaking his head, a few loose strands of dark hair fell in his face, witch he pushed back behind his ear, and looking up in the mirror again, he saw himself , and someone behind him: the gaunt face of Denethor, who’s hand reached to touch Faramir’s shoulder, causing the injury to burn like fire, his scars from the fire beginning to ache as well. The pain caused the son to flinch and fall to his knees with a thud, grasping at his shoulder, tears forming in his eyes. Why wouldn’t he just leave his mind? Why must he plague his every thought? His every movement, as if Faramir was to do wrong again and be punished for it. Faramir wouldn’t consider Denethor an abusive man, despite his verbal berations making the youngest son feel worthless and helpless, or the few times Denethor would lay hands upon him as a child. But he wasn’t like that as much in Faramir’s elder years, And in his final days, despite the suicide mission and Denethor realizing that he had to cherish the family he had left, he still expressed his love for him, while it was still twisted in some way. Faramir thought that was enough to justify it not being considered abuse. It wasn’t ‘bad enough’ , he thought. He knew if his father really wanted to hurt him he would’ve done worse, right? So why did he have to keep showing up when Faramir least expected it, he was dead. He heard a muffled yell, and then a cool hand on his shoulder, and as he turned around he didn’t see Denethor , but instead his fiancee.
She turned him around, helping the man up to his feet and cupping his scarred cheeks with her cold hands. It was a relief, like taking a bath in the fresh waters of Ithilien’s waterfalls (excluding the sacred pool, of course) during the Gondorian winter. Eowyn pressed her forehead to his as if he was a wild horse to be tamed, and his breathing slowed, he lowered his hands that protected his old wounds.
“My love, what’s gotten into you?” Eowyn begins, her voice soft and gentle, not wishing to upset him any more than he was. Though his answer caused her to frown.
“No, nothing. It’s nothing to worry over.” Faramir breathed.
“Of course it is. You were on the floor in pain.” He cringed, she was blunt as ever, and right too. She usually was. “Tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on, Eowyn.” He replies. He really didn’t want to lie to her, but wouldn’t she think he was crazy for having visions of his dead father? He didn’t want to ruin the one relationship he had. He didn’t want to lose her. “If something is wrong I would tell you… The injury was just… acting up. That’s all.”
Faramir was a terrible liar, and something shifted in Eowyn’s tone. She looked more solemn and serious. “I noticed something too. The black breath that impacted us both, Merry too , has been acting up . I sensed it in my arm earlier, though I didn’t know if it’d impacted you too . No need to be ashamed of it. Though I am glad to see you’re alright now.”
“Yes , yes . “ He was grateful for some reasoning behind it. Surely it was just what Eowyn had said? He adjusted the collar of his tunic, then the brown vest Eowyn had picked out for him. She’d gotten him suited in traditional Rohan garb, just for this special day of Eomer’s coronation. And as Eowyn told him he looked quite handsome, he admired her beauty, complimenting her as well as he looked her up and down. Her long golden hair was tied up in three braids that were braided into one plait, then there was her dress: a deep earthy green with accents of gold. Faramir’s outfit matched hers: with variations of green and gold. He didn’t think it matched his tan skin and dark hair as much as black and white would have in Gondor, but this was not a Gondorian ceremony.
The ceremony began with silence and ended with the thunderous applause and shouts, bows, pats on the back from the fellow Rohirrim and the people of Rohan’s loud cheers, it all was a big surprise for Faramir. Aragon’s coronation was similar, but not so rowdy, he thought with a fond smile. He did seem out of place , aside from Gandalf who ( by request of Merry ) began to set off fireworks in the shapes of galloping horses. The loud noises always caused Fara to flinch and cower, as most loud noises did , thanks to Denethor. Though this time he only winced a little as they were set off and excused himself to greet the King.
Eomer greeted Faramir with a clasping handshake brought in for a hug, and a strong pat on the back from the dirty-blonde man. Despite being a little shorter in stature then Faramir, he was still decently stronger than him, similar to Boromir, he thought.
“The man of the hour! Congratulations. “ Faramir smiles after the two had pulled away.
“Today is truly a momentous day indeed, Eowyn told me you assisted with decor and - great Valar what is that?” He was cut off by the sound of one of Gandalf’s fireworks, which created a recreation of Eomer riding Firefoot. “Well I’ll be…” He beamed.
“I think Ser Meriadoc had a say in the fireworks.” Faramir chuckled lightly at the newly crowned King’s reaction and surprise, turning to see Eomer petting his dear Firefoot comfort during the fireworks. It didn’t startle most of the horses, as they were used to and bred for the sound of war. Though some ponies were a little startled .
“Of course that hobbit did!” Eomer laughs heartily. “Good for him! Ah! Reminds me, how about a toast, eh?” The king stood at his place at the head of the table, even going so far to stand on the grand wooden chair , lifting his golden cup and clanging the side with his knife. “ A toast!” His voice booms, and the crowd cheers, then grows quieter to hear what the king would say. “A toast to my lovely people of Rohan, for without you all, this would not be possible. For King Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, who traveled on foot leagues to Rohan during the war. For Gandalf clearing the eyes of my dear late Uncle King. “ At the thought of King Theoden, those who had hats rested them on their chests, and all held a moment of silence for the beloved king. “Now then, I call you all to congratulate my sister, Eowyn of Rohan, who is to wed Faramir of Gondor. To them I gift my blessing!”
Faramir breathes a sigh of relief , glancing at Eowyn who sat across the table, hoping her brother wouldn’t fall off the chair. He reached a hand out to her which she took and squeezed lightly, both grateful to be granted his blessing. All they needed now was Imrahil’s and Eowyn assumed Gandalf’s as well.
Eowyn gave her fiance a small smile as well , she was eternally grateful, though Faramir knew some part of this joyous day would forever be clouded by the fact that it was not Theoden giving his crown to his nephew, but instead that the coronation existed due to his death. She tried to think past it, she was immensely happy for her brother. Her brother meant everything to her. Oh how she’d miss Rohan, luckily their wedding wasn’t until months later, so she’d have plenty of time. And during that time Faramir was excused of his duties in Gondor to learn about Rohan’s rich culture and to know the woman he was going to marry. He’d not be sharing a room with her until they grew closer to the wedding, so Faramir had to treasure their hand holding and cuddling when they could.
As the moon was high, and the festivities nearly over, Faramir excused himself politely , rubbing his eyes. He explained to Eowyn that he’d just be returning to his chambers for a short while, to change into nightwear and hopefully get some well earned rest. He and Eowyn and many others had spent hours perfecting and setting up the ceremony, and while it was a fabulous night - much more rambunctious than Aragorn’s coronation night - it was absolutely exhausting. He got a lot of pats on the back from the Rohirrim with such force it made him stumble slightly. Boromir is who they all reminded him of, and in a way they all reminded him of Eowyn too , when they had first met. Sure they were much more inviting then she had been , but they shared the same spirit.
As Faramir finished changing into his nightwear, he spent a solid five minutes thinking, just sitting on his bed; his hands poised neatly on his lap , fidgeting with his fingers. He often stimmed when he was attempting to regulate his emotions, though he never quite knew the word for it. Tapping his fingers one by one to the tune of a song was usually his go to though, usually an old one his mother would sing to him, or traditional ones he’d hear little girls sing to each other on the side streets of Minas Tirith. And yet again the looming presence of Denethor appeared in his empty thoughts, or at least his last memories of him before he’d left for Osgiliath. His hair was long, longer than Faramir’s. It was dark , but greyed with age with white streaks, two sections in the front braided into two plaits that were tied cross ways with white ribbon. Much like how Faramir would wear his hair, but with sea blue ribbons, though he’d let his hair become more loose since the war. He’d been wearing it fully down, and aside from tonight where Eowyn had braided it, he’d usually keep it that way. Though his hair reminded him of his father dearly. Boromir’s hair was often freely down as well, jet black that shone a lovely deep blue in sunlight, much like his own. He could only imagine Denethor in his youth would have similar properties to his own. Denethor’s face was gaunt, paler than Faramir and Boromir’s tan skin, his eyebrows always furrowed as if about to give jurisdiction on his son’s deeds.
“So you wish, then, that our places had been exchanged?”
“Yes, I wished that.”
Faramir’s breath hitched, and he picked at the scab of dried blood and skin on his arm from where he’d gotten burned. Eventually he tore it off, revealing tender , pink and bloody skin underneath. It was a terrible habit, but Faramir was sick of seeing the wound there . Of the wound on his stomach and the healed scar on his face from the fire. He hissed in pain, tossing the scab into a bin and gingerly touching the wound to get it to stop bleeding so much. He bit his lip. How long would he have to endure this torture of his father’s thoughts. It seemed like this plague would never end. He carefully rolled up the rest of his sleeve to make sure he didn’t soil these new pajamas with his blood. He wanted nothing more than to scratch at his face until he didn’t see his father staring back in the mirror.
He warily glanced at that accursed thing on his dresser, thankfully not catching himself in the reflection. He wished to cover it with a cloth or blanket. Something. He’d been avoiding his reflection as far as not glancing down at the cup from which he drank, nor the basin to wash his face. He hadn’t bathed since he’d come to Rohan, and he was dreading it dearly. Not that he liked staying like this, but in his mind he had no other choice. He missed his baths in the pools in Ithilien with his rangers , where he didn’t need to worry about covering up scars.
His attention was drawn away from the raw flesh on his arm to the door, where he’d heard a knock, jutting his head up suddenly and rolling his sleeve down quickly. Faramir stood up suddenly, rushing to the door to open it up a little , just to peek at who it was. He thought he should’ve let his guard down realizing who it was, but it still remained up .
“Why are you hiding behind the door, Fara?” Eowyn laughed softly, reaching a hand out to pull the door open , much to Faramir’s dismay. “I came to ask you if you’d like to sneak down to the dining halls and try a bit of that sponge cake I’ve been telling you about?”
“Oh.” he didn’t mean to sound disappointed, but the word spilled out. He slowly nodded yes, swallowing any doubts he had. Surely Eowyn wouldn’t press on him using his right arm more than his left, the right arm harboring his injured shoulder. “I mean, yes. I would love to, if we don’t get caught.”
“You’re a ranger, I’m sure you can make sure we don’t get caught.” She grins at that.
“Eowyn that’s not- “ he yelps as she grabs his hand and pulls him out the door , giving him the game plan of where everything was. Seeing her so excited made him nearly forget about the pain in his arm. Faramir playfully shushes her giggles as he scooped her up into his arms to carry her down the stairs. He’d mastered the art of walking down the stairs quietly, especially as a child when he and Boromir would sneak into the kitchens at night to grab something extra to eat.
Eventually they made their way into dining halls, where he carefully let her down, his arm bloodied from the weight of carrying her, though he didn’t mind, his pajamas were a deep green, and he was sure Eowyn couldn’t see in the dark. She lit a nearby candle, grinning happily as she handed the candle to Faramir, the former shieldmaiden digging through the icebox, then cupboards , making more noise than Faramir would’ve liked, but eventually pulling out a lovely golden sponge cake, decorated with white frosting and pistachios and cherries about it. It would be very much like Eowyn to try to cut the cake with a nearby sword, even worse, her brother’s sword, but she thankfully pulled out a cake knife and server. While Eowyn sliced two thick pieces , Faramir carefully and quietly found two ceramic dishes to eat them on, certainly not the finest china they had, but a day to day food plate. After she had served them, along with tiny three pronged forks (as Eowyn insisted it was the only way to really savor a cake ), they sat on the cold tiled floor with the candle between them and the plates lifted off their laps.
The first bite was like nothing he’d expected. It had been quite some time when he’d had truly good sweets like this. Since Gondor fell on hard times, the sweetest of sweets they could muster was apple tarts, but sugar was low and a scarcity, though he supposed he could get away with having some as the steward of the kingdom. It was light and airy, and the pistachios and cream paired neatly with the sugar marinated cherry on top. Sure they had some grand cakes and treats at the end of the coronation ceremony, but Faramir never got the chance to try this.
“What would Merry and Pippin think of us now? Second-desserts?” he joked lightly, poking fun at the hobbits’ second breakfasts, speaking in a hushed whisper.
Eowyn giggled again, kicking her feet out while Faramir had his legs tucked beneath him. “I think they’d be proud.” she whispers back. “Do you like it?”
“It’s like nothing I’ve had before. Are pistachios native to Rohan?” He asked, wondering if the nut came from Fangorn, or something like that.
“That’s for you to find out in the library tomorrow. Or maybe you’ll have to consult the cookbooks.” She was nearly finished with her slice, while Faramir was pondering over his own, picking at the cherry before eating it .
“I want you to show me the stables tomorrow, take me to your favorite place in all of Rohan.” He smiles wearily, handing his half eaten cake to Eowyn and taking her empty plate and fork to wash. Carefully he rolled up his sleeves to do the dishes, having completely forgotten about the wound. He quietly got a rag and dampened it, wiping off her plate, turning to see Eowyn ‘clean’ the other empty plate by licking it when she thought Faramir wasn’t looking. He chuckled softly, taking it from her hands to clean.
“Fara, dear?” Faramir froze momentarily, then set the plates down softly.
“Yes?” he wipes his hands off and rolls his sleeves back down.
“Nothing.,. Just. Thank you for being there for me, and my brother. Things have been hard for the both of us, especially with the loss of our Uncle. He was like a father to us. He meant everything to me.” Faramir helped her up, pulling her into a hug.
“Of course I’ll be here for you…” He kissed her cheek, resting his head on her shoulder, as she did the same. “I will continue to be there for you , no matter what. What we promised each other in dark times will continue in light.”
Eowyn smiles, tightening her arms around him in a hug, giving him a strong squeeze. “You’d let me know if you ever felt uncomfortable here, right? I don’t want you to feel trapped here.”
“And I don’t want you to feel trapped in Ithilien with me. Though I am sure you’d love it. I assure you I enjoy the time I have here.”
“If you say so.” She perked up as she heard some shuffling coming from the corridor. Faramir drew away from Eowyn, and they held hands again as Eowyn led her partner through the halls of Meduseld and up the stairs back to Eowyn’s bedroom. “That was a close one.” Eowyn breathed, lighting an oil lamp with the candle from downstairs and blowing it out to toss on her nightstand.
“Certainly.” Faramir smiled, preparing to leave. Though he caught a glance of himself in Eowyn’s mirror, and the burning sensation began again, he swiftly made his way to the door, though Eowyn caught his arm.
“Hey.. don’t go just yet? Is something wrong?” Eowyn frowns, noticing the blood on his nightclothes. “Fara.” her tone grows sterner. God, how could he say no to that?
“I have to go back to my room. I’m … feeling weary. Please just let me be, it’s been a long night.”
Dissatisfied with that answer, Eowyn scoffed, though she let him go. “Fine. But we’re talking in the morning.” She mumbles, allowing Faramir to leave the room and go back to his room.
The second he returned he covered the mirror in his room with a cloth, rushing into bed, curling up and covering himself with the green quilted blanket. It provided a sense of comfort to him, while it being his first few nights in Rohan, he yearned for any bit of comfort and normalcy. The coldness of Gondor was what he was used to , and summer in Rohan was difficult. Though he still thought covering himself fully with his blanket would protect him, in some kind of childish way.
Faramir’s peace didn’t last too long, for as he drifted in and out, then eventually fully into sleep, it felt like he was being burned, though this time it was all of him. All of him was burning, brighter and brighter, and while he felt the pain, he could do nothing to stop it. His father stood above him, burning, burning. He was holding something Gandalf called a Palantir, what the wizard said drove him to madness. But Faramir wasn’t entirely sure if that’s what fully did it. Sure it played a part, but he believed his father’s madness began when his wife died. And slowly and slowly it broke Denethor down, until Boromir’s death, then he turned to the Palantir. Mithrandir called it an all seeing orb, and Faramir was sure he’d seen his father consulting it many a time. Though the nightmare persisted. Faramir watched his father’s skin bubble and blister, his hair singed and his silence through it all. How he didn’t scream while being set on fire. And eventually he disappeared into ash, leaving Faramir to burn alone. Alone again. He wanted his father back, he wanted any bit of his family back.
He awoke with a gasp, finding himself not indeed on fire but instead harboring a light fever. Faramir set his cool hands on his flushed face, trying to calm himself down. Getting up from his bed and shuffling out the door , he made his way barefoot throughout the palace, wondering where Eowyn could be. Instead in his half asleep trance he ended up bumping into Aragorn, who wore similar nightclothes, though his rangers boots were on as well as his sword about his hip on a belt and sheath.
“Ah- my king!” Faramir immediately stepped back, bowing deeply and glancing up anxiously to see the kind eyes of the Gondorian king smiling down at him.
“Stand up, Faramir.” He calmly requests, watching the steward rise and begin to fidget with his hands, picking at them. Aragorn reached a hand out to stop him, bringing his hands away from each other. “I did not mean to startle you. What brings you up so late? And out of bed too? You have many things to do today, I believe it’s about three in the morning?”
“Sincerest apologies, my king.” Faramir resists the urge to bow again. “I simply wanted some fresh air.” He was not about to admit to a nightmare, that was a rather childish thing to admit to, Faramir thinks bitterly. “What brings you out here?”
“Call me Aragorn, everyone else does. These are not my halls anyhow. I’m out for some fresh air as well. I’m still getting used to sleeping in a proper bed. Reminds me! I want you to show me Ithilien. Just the two of us. A … rangers mission.” He grins cheekily.
“Of course!” Well that was the least thing he’d expected , Faramir thought, sitting down on a nearby bench to hold his head in one hand. “I would love to , your majes- Aragorn.” He smiled sheepishly.
Aragorn sits down beside him, resting a hand on the steward’s shoulder. “Is everything alright though, first? I want to make sure. There’s blood on your sleeve.” He points out , taking Faramir’s hand carefully and rolling up the sleeve. “This wound was from … ah. I would’ve thought you’d let it heal by now? Let me see what medicinal herbs they have here.”
“Aragorn-” he tries to stop him, though the king was so gentle it was difficult to refuse. “I suppose it’s a bad habit… Part of me thinks that if it heals I’ll forget all about it.'' He mumbles. “Though I know it’ll leave a scar anyway. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Tell me.” he raises his hand to Faramir’s head, placing the back of it on his brow. Maybe the sudden move to Rohan would be difficult. “Is there anything else you’re hiding?”
“Well.. “ He averts his eyes, “I have been having dreams of my father. Visions outside of dreams as well… “ He mumbles the last part.
“You know. I thought something of the sort was going on, hence why I relieved you of your duties until your wedding. I know you and Eowyn had gone through some troubling times before I had healed you two in the Houses. And I figured you needed time away from it. Away from Minas Tirith. Away from things that remind you of him. But I suppose it’s followed you , hm? What are these dreams like? These visions?”
Faramir breathes, and Aragorn squeezes his hands with reassurance. “My father is .. judging my every move. It began shortly after I left the Houses. I can feel his hand on my shoulder. I can hear him telling me how I’ll never be loved. How he wishes I’d died instead of Boromir. I-I can see him burn while I lay burning as well. I know its foolish.”
“He said that?” Aragorn was certainly full of nothing but anger on Faramir’s behalf, though stayed calm. He couldn’t picture Elrond telling him he wished he’d passed. Though Aragorn never met nor knew Denethor, all he knew was what Faramir told him. “Faramir, that’s not healthy - “
“I-I know .. It’s just. I can’t stop thinking it was true. He wasn’t a bad father. Beregond told me how he refused to leave my side while I was on death’s door. How he had a change of heart .. something like that. He wasn’t a terrible father- he just had some issues here and there…”
“You want to know what I think? I think you’re making excuses for the man that tried to kill you twice.” Aragorn squeezed Faramir’s hands tighter. “I know it’s difficult to come to terms with it, but I hope you’ll slowly get there. Eowyn knows many things about this too. Why haven’t you spoken to her about this?”
“I didn’t .. think I was worthy of her love.” He says softly. “That I wasn’t good enough for her. Because that’s what my father had said. How could I be loved when my own father couldn’t?”
“Well , all of us care about you , we want to see you healthy and loved. And we all do love you and care for you , whether you believe it or not.” Aragorn pulled the steward in for a gentle hug. “So the first thing I’m doing is telling Eowyn.”
“Wait .. no…” he pleads quietly, hiding his face in Aragorn’s shoulder “I don’t want her thinking I’m someone who can’t do anything. She hasn’t even seen me win a single fight. Last time I fought I almost died.”
“All the more reason for us to go on that ranger’s trip .” He pat his back comfortingly. “Look. Boromir spoke highly of you, very highly. He admired your skill with the bow, I’d like to see you and Legolas in a competition, actually, but he told me you were loved by all. Gondor adores you. So does Eowyn.”
“Boromir said that?” He looked up, pulling away from Aragorn to look at him. Aragorn nodded. “He was always standing up for me whenever I didn’t do as good as him. I always thought he thought of me as second best, but I suppose not, hm?” At that he began to slowly laugh, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
“Yes, Boromir adored you. He loved talking about you. I’m sure you the same about him.” Aragorn assures him. The rest of their night was spent talking about Boromir, not just the little bits he’d heard from Merry and Pippin , but the details man to man that Boromir and Aragorn had shared as men of Gondor. Boromir dearly looked up to Aragorn in such a faithful way that Faramir mirrored. They also happened to look similar, the same long raven hair and facial complexion, though Boromir was always a bit scruffier while Faramir was often clean shaven. Boromir by his death had a full beard too, something Faramir noticed was combed neatly, assumingly by Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn on the arranging of his funeral boat. The king of Gondor and the steward ended up laughing softly over the silly things Boromir had done.
In the late morning Faramir woke up after being sent to bed by Aragorn, to the king sitting on the end of his bed with a roll of bandages. Once the steward had sat up properly and gauged what was around him, he allowed Aragorn to bind the wound with medicinal herbs and the bandages. After mumbling a soft ‘thank you’, he hugged Aragorn again. He smiled kindly, standing up and allowing Faramir space to change and get into more civil clothes.
“What time is it?” Asked Faramir after getting changed into traditional Rohan clothing, slipping on his ranger boots as well. By the sun it couldn’t be too late, right?
“Midday, actually. I stayed by you to make sure you slept well, and I also told Eowyn about your situation.” Aragorn replies, stretching as he stood. “I’ve got to get back to Gondor tomorrow , so Legolas and I are going to go racing while Gimli and Eomer chat about drinks. They’ve been meaning to for a while.” He fills him in .
“Midday?” Faramir blinked, rushing to the door. “Thank you, my king- Aragorn. Thank you, I’ve got to get going though - !!” He blurts out, bowing again to him and rushing out the door to try and find Eowyn after grabbing a tiny box from his bedside.
She was sitting in the kitchens, mulling over luncheon, picking at her vegetables. When Faramir approached with fresh lilies behind his back and a small parcel, she turned around to face him with a delighted smile. Her cheeks blushed a bright pink as she was presented with the lilies. Eowyn wasn’t usually one for flowers, but her time spent with Faramir in the garden made her fall in love with them, as they reminded her of their time together, and their mutual healing process.
“For me? You really shouldn’t have- Fara….” She almost forgot what she was about to say, when the steward pulled out the small parcel from behind his back, opening up a tiny wooden box.
“That’s not all,” he smiled, his cheeks flushing brightly as well as he presented Eowyn with two rings, a silver one for himself, and a golden one for herself. Each was engraved with their names on the inside and carefully carved beautifully as two hands holding a heart. Eowyn’s golden ring had a green gem in the center. He got on one knee and presented Eowyn with them, taking her by the hand and slipping it on her ring finger, the other she set on his. “I figured I should have made it official, since we are to wed in months, and since I never properly proposed to you.”
“In the kitchens no less!” Eowyn laughed “You couldn’t wait , could you?” She teased, hopping off her stool to kiss him.
“I would not have you walking around without one for any longer.” Faramir returned the kiss, glancing down to admire their matching rings.
“Well it’s certainly a surprise , how long have you been hiding this?”
“I had to ask one of my cousins, Lothiriel, she knew all about it and I think I saw her dancing with your brother too. She helped me get ring sizes and what I wanted them to look like and such.” He blushed, resting his hands on her hips.
“I knew I saw him dancing with someone! That was your cousin? But still. From Gondor, you , good sir, have a strong will.”
“As do you. I’m happy to wed such a headstrong woman. What do you say to show me the stables? Aragorn mentioned a race between he and Legolas earlier. I suppose they indulged in that already. I propose you show me your favorite parts of the kingdom.” Faramir suggests, to which Eowyn nods.
“Of course I will.” She assures him, and after Faramir finished the rest of the plate Eowyn did not want to eat (mainly the greener vegetables), the two made their way to the stables of Rohan, where the royal horses were kept. Firefoot and Windfola took top priority, and Shadowfax was in a wonderful stall. Faramir’s own horse, Thunderbrook, was housed with the utmost care. He noted Aragorn and Legolas’s horses were seemingly a little tired, presumably from the race they’d had before, though he’d have to ask who won. Assuming they weren’t fighting over that now .
“Thunderbrook is not built for battle like dear Windfola is, nor is she as light hooved, but she is a good listener and has helped me get through a lot. I recall when she was a foal, as well. “ Faramir muses softly to himself, entering his stall and petting the horse. Her pelt was a deep grey with white speckles and fluff about her hooves.
“The way she trusts you makes me think you might be from Rohan and you’ve fooled us all.” She jests, approaching Windfola, the young pale grey horse, saddling her up for riding as Faramir was doing. Though Faramir was more comforting to his horse as she was to spend a lot of time in new lands.
“You think so?” He smiles, leading Thunderbrook out of the stable and mounting her, it was right what Beregond had said, thought Eowyn, how he could tame both man and beast with ease.
“Of course. “ she whistled for Windfola to follow her before mounting her and trotting around the area in small circles to get used to riding again. “Now then, follow me! See if you can keep up!”
At that Eowyn and Windfola were off, speedy as ever, and though Faramir’s Thunderbrook was quick to catch up , he was still a bit away from her. Both horses were eager to stretch their legs, galloping through the grassy fields and soft rolling hills of Rohan. From Edoras they rode and rode until they reached Aldburg, which was stationed on the neighboring mountains from Rohan to Gondor. While they rode, Eowyn took the time to educate Faramir on the land, most of which Faramir already knew. Most of it was on how Aldburg used to be the capital city, though it was changed to Edoras later on. She also explained its lineage, how Eomer and herself were born there and grew up there until her parents passed: Eomund and Theodwyn. Where then she was taken in by her Uncle Theoden and his son Theodred. Faramir would have assumed Eowyn to be a bit upset by speaking of her deceased relatives, though she seemed rather upbeat about it, speaking their names in high honor.
“You know,” Began Eowyn as they slowed their horses to match pace at a slower trot. “Aragorn spoke to me this morning.”
“He did?” Of course he did, he said he was going to afterall, wasn’t he? Why was he acting so surprised, Faramir thought. “What did he say exactly?”
“This and that.” She replied matter of factly. “Fara. You know you can tell me anything, right? We promised that to each other. I just wish you’d been honest with me about everything going on. I could’ve helped. I still can.”
“I didn’t want to stress you out about it. “
“Well now I’m even more worried about you! What if it was something more serious like an injury you were hiding out of fear for me finding out ? It would only get worse as time went on. I hope you can see it from my side.”
“I can.. I am truly sorry, Eowyn. It’s not fair to you.”
“And it’s not fair to you either. I want you to talk to Prince Imrahil or Gandalf about it. Before the wedding. I know we don’t sleep together yet but .. maybe if we did it would ease your mind. “ Eowyn thinks for a moment. “Ah! I know. You can have something of mine. I had this stuffed horse I slept with when I was younger, maybe if you sleep with it you can ground yourself. Or Gandalf can cast a spell on you to make it stop…?”
“I don’t think a spell will ‘fix’ this. But I can try the horse idea you have.. “ The nightmares and hallucinations certainly wouldn’t leave him be, but they did seem to lessen around Eowyn. He knew he had someone who loved him, and that someone was not going to leave him or die suddenly or revert to madness. He would make sure of it. Regulating his emotions was new and difficult, especially after the trauma he had endured. “Thank you, Eowyn.”
She reaches her hand out to hold his , their horses slowing to a stop as they arrived at the wall of Aldburg. “Of course. I promise you it’ll be alright.”
After visiting Aldburg and racing their horses back (Eowyn won easily), and set them back in the stable, they came across Gandalf who was preparing to leave on Shadowfax. Faramir gave him a small hello and wave, and Eowyn sent him off on an errand so she and Gandalf could talk.
“I had hoped to catch you before you left, Gandalf.” Eowyn finishes setting Windfola in her stall with fresh hay.
“But of course.” the old wizard replies, smiling warmly. “Humor me, Lady of Rohan, what do you wish?”
“I came to ask for your blessing. And Imrahil as well. To wed Faramir. He said you were like a father to him.”
“Did he now?” Gandalf’s eyes crinkled happily. “I certainly give my blessing. I’m very happy for you two , you know. I’m looking forward to your wedding coming up as well. I know you’ll love Ithilien too when you both move in. “
Eowyn nods happily. “Fantastic , I’ll just need to talk to Imrahil when we near the wedding. I think his kids are here though, my brother was dancing with one of them.” She giggles, liking the little bit of drama.
“Oh? Another reunion of Gondor and Rohan would be fantastic. You and Faramir are just what we all need from the end of the war.”
“Do you think there’s a way to heal the wounds from the war? Mental ones?” She asks momentarily.
“With time and patience, yes. Though some wounds will never fully heal.” Shadowfax neighed, and Gandalf rested his hand on the steed’s neck. “I think we’re due to leave, do send a letter to Gondor if need be. Aragorn and I have a few things to do in rebuilding Minas Tirith.”
With that , Eowyn nodded and watched Mithrandir mount Shadowfax, and like a bolt he was out of the stalls and galloping over the hills.
That night Faramir hugged the horse plush to his chest, then moved it to his lap , rubbing the ear of it with his thumb and finger for comfort. That night the nightmares did come, harsher than ever. Faramir was five, his mother had just passed. Denethor was holding the palantir , not talking to anyone. Ten year old Boromir held onto his little brother’s hand, the two of them trying hard not to cry. Denethor wasn’t crying. They had to mourn in other ways. Faramir felt tears prick his eyes, but one look from his father told him that ‘boys don’t cry’. He swallowed thickly , stumbling as he backed up, hiding behind his older brother. Denethor grabbed his arm, bringing him out- and Denethor’s touch burned. Faramir struggled in his father’s grasp, and when Denethor let go , he found himself falling into a deep, deep hole.
He awoke , clinging to the horse plush Eowyn gave him. Hey, at least that dream wasn’t as horrible as the others. Faramir lifted the plush to his face, the familiar scent of his fiancee comforting him. The steward sat up , then laid back down to try and go back to sleep.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Eowyn stood next to Eomer in a golden dress, the trim was a pastel green as was the bodice, her long hair was loose as she wished. Eomer was dressed in ceremonial armor, and as much as Eowyn wanted to wear full armor as well, she knew it wasn’t practical. She was wearing a sword at her hip and arm guards that shone in the sunlight when she moved. Faramir took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. Eowyn and himself had cut his hair short out of his request, and it did make him feel better, a lot more free from looking like his deceased family. Imrahil had his long silver hair braided back, holding Faramir’s arm and guiding him down the aisle. Faramir had not seen Eowyn in her dress before, he had complied to customs of not seeing Eowyn the entire day until now as well, nor did he see her the day before in preparation. But when he laid eyes upon her, tears formed in his silver eyes and streaked down his cheeks. When Imrahil gave off Faramir, he held hands with Eowyn , leaning in to whisper how beautiful she looked. She only smiled and returned the compliment. Faramir was wearing traditional Gondorian wear, as well as arm guards with the white tree on them, much like his tomesode with the Gondorian tree on it.
Gandalf stood behind the two , presenting them with their vows, and after they had exchanged them, he handed them a gold and silver circlet to place on each other’s heads, Aragorn’s gift. When they had set each other’s circlets on the prince and princess of Ithilien, they drew closer for a passionate kiss. Faramir’s hands rested on Eowyn’s hips and she had her arms thrown around his neck, the steward lifting her up for a tight hug when their kiss had ended.
Merry and Pippin were standing to the side, though after the ceremony ended and the festivities began , the two made themselves busy to let everyone know how they knew the two , Merry claiming to have set the two up - to which Pippin nudged him and claimed it was a joint effort, which Faramir overheard and gave them both a playful eye roll. Eowyn pulled him away from the hobbits to share their first dance, which they’d practiced in the halls of Meduseld many times for that perfect moment. Though in the moment, Faramir couldn’t help but just focus on Eowyn, finding her beauty too much to take his eyes off of, Eowyn doing the same, and the two fumbled quite a few dance moves. Though it was certainly far from being perfect, it was satisfactory to them both.