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CHAPTER 2

Gifts

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The sun had scarce been up for an hour when Faramir arrived at the King's gate, his mind already occupied with the information Aragorn had given him the night before. He was ushered in immediately and with little ceremony; his visits there were frequent. A few minutes passed in the silence of the sitting room before Aragorn entered. Without prologue, the King said, "I am glad you are come, Faramir."

The steward bowed. "Is there any news, my lord?"

Aragorn shook his head. "None. But perhaps today we will be free of certain distractions."

There was a knowing amusement in his expression, and Faramir allowed himself a small smile. "My wife would be mortified to hear us take light of that."

"It was good to see her, despite what embarrassment she might have endured," Aragorn replied. "How does she fare? I had not seen her these many weeks, before last night."

Faramir nodded. "She is well."

"I am glad to hear it." The King gestured his steward to a seat, and Faramir set his documents on the table. "For I fear she must endure the time here in Minas Tirith without you soon."

Faramir nodded, having wondered if this would happen. "Is my presence needed in Ithilien earlier than we had planned, my lord?"

Aragorn seated himself as well. "It is. This parting will not be easy, I gather."

Faramir deliberately did not answer straight away. He and his wife had not been apart for more than a day since their wedding day two years previous. The idea of being away from her for the weeks he would likely be needed in Ithilien was unsettling at the least. But he would do his duty to his King. "She will not wish to be left behind," said he.

The King laughed shortly. "Nay, I would not imagine she would," he replied. "But you are reluctant to take her with you, after last summer."

Faramir nodded. Aragorn was one of the few people who truly understood why the last year had been so difficult for the steward. "If the danger is as real as we have been led to believe," said he, "I will not have her with me."

Aragorn sat back in his chair. "It is a two days' ride to Ithilien, less if the horse is swift. If she cannot bear the empty house and you do not object, she will not be far from you."

The steward smiled. "Her horse is swift, as you well know, Lord Aragorn, as the mare was a gift from you."

The King smiled. "She had no horse whom she truly enjoyed to ride. I did what any friend would do."

"Yet from time to time, I do believe she loves Alassë more than she loves me."

Aragorn laughed heartily. "Though she be Princess here in Gondor, the Lady Éowyn will always be a woman of Rohan. Her attachment to the mare is in her blood, and neither you nor I can shake it."

"She tries me," said Faramir, "yet I would not exchange her even for a bride from among the Elves."

"Then it is well you married her. You give her your patience and your love; let me give her horses to ride."

"Have you not a wife of your own to dote upon?"

Aragorn smiled. "Arwen needs so little. In giving Alassë to Éowyn, I please one friend and embarrass another."

"And you ruin that friend's plan for his wife's birthday: I had intended to give her a horse myself." Faramir smiled as he said this; he had not truly been angry with the King over the gift. Though he had thought of giving Éowyn a mare, he had easily thought of something else to give her for her birthday, with which she had been equally delighted.

After the King's laughter, Faramir sighed. "I had thought perhaps to ask you if Éowyn could stay here while I am away. I do not wish to inconvenience you, but I would rather she be here, where there is more protection."

"Would she agree to it?"

"Perhaps. I know not." He coughed slightly. "In truth, I doubt she will agree readily."

The King smiled. "I doubt it as well. Yet she can be persuaded."

"Not with ease, my lord, as you well know," said Faramir, and he stood. "Have you anything else for me, Lord Aragorn?"

"Nay, friend, save to wish that you will be among us again, in speed and safety," said Aragorn as he stood. "I will see you off on the morrow; for now you should attend to your own house."

"And that I shall." Faramir stood and bowed. "Good day to you, my lord."

*~*~*~*

Faramir was gone when Éowyn awoke. She was hardly surprised when she saw how high the sun was in the sky; it was coming nigh to midday as she pushed the sheets aside and arose. As she glanced in the mirror after she dressed, she flushed, remembering the night before as if it were the worst of nightmares. She did not rightly know how she would ever face the King again. With any luck, she would not have to soon.

As she bent to fasten her shoes, she felt a sudden wave of sickness overcome her. When her attendant entered, she found Éowyn seated on the end of the bed, her hand to her stomach. "My lady!" cried the girl. "Are you unwell?"

Éowyn shook her head. "It is nothing, Mithlomi," she replied. "I only felt a little faint."

Mithlomi touched her lady's forehead and found no fever. "Are you certain, my lady? I do not mean to be impertinent, but this is unlike you. You've slept away half the day and now you feel faint. . ."

The Princess smiled, a little surprised that Mithlomi had not woken her earlier. "I shall have to blame the King for that. He called here in the middle of the night."

"King Aragorn called here last night?" said the maid. "What business brought him here at such a late hour?"

Éowyn did not deign to answer with specifics. "He had business with my husband."

"Of course," Mithlomi replied, obviously knowing not to press the subject. Instead, she touched her pale, slender hand to Éowyn's hair. "Would you like me to wash your hair, milady?"

Éowyn smiled up at the dark-haired girl. "That would be lovely, Mithlomi."

Some time later, the lady of Rohan descended the stair with her maid close behind her. Mithlomi was a sweet, attentive girl who had the eye for detail which Éowyn herself had never developed. She was a good companion when Faramir was away, which was more often than Éowyn would have liked.

"My lady," Mithlomi began as they arrived at the foot of the stairs, "why were you awake when King Aragorn arrived? It must have been quite late indeed."

Éowyn started to blush a little. "I was not awake when he called."

"But you said that the King was responsible for your indisposition this morning?"

The elder lady shook her head and entered the dining room. "I was not serious, Mithlomi," she said. "I woke while he was here. My husband was not with me when I awoke, and I found him with the King in the sitting room."

Mithlomi blushed a little, and Éowyn looked away. She had forgotten that in Gondor, it was not traditional for a man to sleep in the same room as his wife. Both she and Faramir had considered that somewhat absurd, and they slept in the same bed, not particularly wanting to spend those hours apart. But the notion made Mithlomi, who was well-schooled in traditions of Gondor, uncomfortable, though she had lived in the house for several months.

"I am sorry," said Éowyn, taking a seat at the long table and gesturing for her handmaiden to do the same. "I know how that makes you uncomfortable."

"No, my lady. I should- I should be used to that by now."

Éowyn smiled and rang the tiny bell before her. "What a scandal it would cause if you were like other ladies."

Mithlomi looked up, startled. "What do you mean, my lady? I do not understand."

"I meant that other ladies might spread a rumor that the Prince and Princess of Ithilien engage in scandalous activities," she replied. "Elessar's court would be abuzz with the news that the King's steward will not conform to the traditions of society."

"I would never do such a thing, my lady," Mithlomi said, a look of shock on her pretty face. "I serve you, not those who would take joy in shaming you."

Another servant entered then and gave Éowyn a questioning look. "Tea, please, Abaradun, and some bread," said she. When the servant had left, she turned her attention back to her handmaiden. "It would not shame me to have that known, but it would be a detriment to my husband's work, I fear. But I see no shame in loving my husband and wanting to be near him."

Mithlomi blushed again as the servant reappeared with a tray, but once he had left, she said, "It may not conform with our society, milady, but I think it is beautiful that you love him that much." She sighed, a little wistfully. "I hope to meet a man and fall in love as you have, someday."

Éowyn poured two cups of tea and lifted hers to her lips, pondering what the girl had just said. She was so very young, and her ideas of love were not unlike those Éowyn had had until she had met Faramir. "Love is not something you fall into, Mithlomi," she said at last. "It may take you by surprise and you may find it in the darkest watch of the night. You may find love in the strangest, most unlikely of places, but you will never fall in love. Love is an action, something you must do, and to fall you must cease to act."

"I understand," Mithlomi replied. Éowyn suspected that she did not understand, but she would, more than she knew was possible. She would understand pain and joy and love eventually, as it seemed all men were doomed. Yet it was not an unpleasant burden—the greatest of sorrows in Éowyn's life thus far had led her to the greatest of joys. The loss of Théoden, dearer than father to her, had opened her heart with a wound that had seemed impossible to heal, because she could not join him in death. Then had come Faramir—

"My lady?"

Mithlomi's voice cut through Éowyn's thoughts. She looked up abruptly. "I am sorry. Did you need something?"

The handmaiden smiled softly. "No, my lady. I asked you a question." At a prompting glance from Éowyn, she added, "How did you and my Lord Faramir fall in- come to love each other?"

Éowyn smiled at the correction and took another sip of the tea. It had a soothing effect on her nauseous state. "We were both injured and in the Houses of Healing, and drawn back from the shadow by the hand of our King," said she. "He had lost his father, and I my uncle. I cannot tell you when I first loved him, or even when I first knew that I loved him, because it was the last place where I had expected to feel such a bond form. I had thought I loved Lord Aragorn, but it was nothing but a silly girlish infatuation. What I felt for Faramir was stronger, richer, and truer than any emotion I had ever felt before. It was overwhelming." She smiled fondly. "It was love."

"Was?" Mithlomi asked, tea forgotten in her hand.

"Someday you will find, Mithlomi, that love does not stay the same," Éowyn said. "The sweetness and innocence of those days when Faramir first told me that he loved me are gone, but it is merely a flower continuing to bloom, and never fading."

The girl smiled and shook her head. "It sounds like something out of the old stories, my lady. Too fantastic to be truth, and yet too true to be fantasy."

Éowyn laughed. "Yes, it is," she replied, setting her tea cup aside. "Every morning I awake, expecting to find myself in the Houses of Healing, on the cold, hard bed there on which I languished, having dreamt the last few months."

"And what then, my lady?"

"Then I find myself in my husband's arms," said Éowyn. "And there is nothing more comforting than that."

Mithlomi smiled and reached over to take her lady's hand. "Are you feeling better now?" she asked.

Éowyn was surprised by the question as much as she was by the answer; talking about Faramir had made her feel much better. "Yes, I am," she replied in a somewhat mystified tone. "I feel as though I might be able to eat something more substantial than bread now."

The handmaiden released Éowyn's hand and rang the bell, and the lady of Rohan smiled. Consciously or not, Mithlomi always knew how to help her.