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CHAPTER 10

Comfort

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Mithlomi returned to her lady's room in time to bring a midday meal to Faramir, Legolas returned in time for tea, and Lord Aragorn and Lady Arwen joined them after dinner. After a while, the Steward was grateful for the company. The handmaiden tended her mistress in silence, the Elf lord spoke of archery, and Aragorn asked about Ithilien. Unfortunately there were many questions for which Faramir knew no answer.

Yet the evening passed pleasantly as Éowyn slept on, and the group stayed late into the night. Eventually Faramir sent Mithlomi to bed, knowing that she had had less sleep than he in the last few days. The royals soon followed, and Faramir was left alone with his wife. He too began to doze off in his chair, awaking occasionally to feel Éowyn's brow.

It was on one such occasion that she began to sweat and her skin felt clammy. Panic fluttered through his mind for a moment before he remembered what rudimentary medical knowledge he had. She was afflicted with a fever, and when a fever broke suddenly, the patient would often sweat. With a great sigh, he sagged back into his chair. Her eyes blinked open, and she whispered, "Faramir, it is so hot. . . ."

Despite her complaint, he smiled. "I know, love," said he, taking a dry cloth to her forehead. "The fever breaks. All is well."

They passed the time in silence for a while, and then Éowyn said: "I dreamt of Númenor."

"Of Númenor?" he asked. "Of Westernesse?"

"Of the waves crashing over the land. Of a great change coming upon our lives," said she, nodding. "I do not often dream."

"I know," he concurred. "I have dreamt of change too. But there is nothing to fear."

Éowyn smiled softly and closed her eyes, soon drifting into sleep. By and by, Faramir did too, and dreamt of a house in Ithilien, laughter through corridors, an infant crying, and a young man on horseback, with a child sitting before him.

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Early in the morning, Faramir awoke in the chair by Éowyn's bed. The sun was just rising, and his wife still lay asleep. Then a knock sounded upon the door, and he realized why he had awoken. "Come in," said he, and in came Mithlomi.

"My lord?" said she. "How does my lady fare?"

"She is out of danger," he replied. "The fever broke in the night."

"Oh, praise be to the Valar!" she cried; then an abashed look overtook her face. "Pardon me, milord."

Faramir smiled at the maid. "No need, Mithlomi," said he, "for such praise should be given."

Éowyn stirred then, and Faramir turned his attention back to her. "Good morning," said he. "How do you feel?"

"Better, my lord," said she. "And you?"

"I am well." He turned back to Mithlomi. "Would you run to the kitchens and fetch your lady food?"

"Yes, milord." She walked to the door and moved to open it, then turned around again. "Should I bring food for you as well, milord?"

Faramir smiled. "Yes, thank you, Mithlomi."

While the maid was gone, the Steward helped Éowyn to sit up, supported by a mountain of pillows behind her. "I hate having to be waited upon like this," said she.

"You always have." Faramir touched her cheek. "You will be well soon enough."

"Do you know that I would rather lie abed because of injury than because of this?"

Faramir laughed softly and kissed her lips. "I have no doubt."

Éowyn looked down at her hands, and then glanced up at him after a moment of hesitation. His heart swelled to see the familiar expression, one which he had missed so much that he had written her about it. There was an intense longing in her eyes, and Faramir kissed her again, this time running his hand to the back of her head to draw her closer. She needed little encouragement: a soft moan escaped her throat, and her fingers entwined in his hair.

There was a familiar click of the door latch and a gasp, and Faramir pulled away, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Éowyn suppressed a laugh. "Mithlomi, thank you," said she, addressing the blushing maid as she brought forth a tray of food.

"I apologize for being late, milady," said she. "A messenger just arrived from Ithilien, and I waited for him to be done with the King so I could show him up here."

"A messenger?" said Faramir, turning to the maid.

"Aye, milord. He is just outside."

Faramir touched Éowyn's hand for a moment, and she inclined her head toward the door. He left her side, stepping into the hallway to see one of the Rangers of Ithilien. "Damrod!" he cried; and he embraced his old friend, much to the Ranger's surprise. "Damrod, it is good to see you again! Yet why are you on courier duty?"

The Ranger seemed to recover his shock a bit. "My family's farm is running again at last, milord, and I have returned to your service," said he. "Yet when I came to Ithilien, I was told you were here in Minas Tirith."

"I arrived here only yesterday," said Faramir. "I was summoned back to the city, for Éowyn was ill."

"Was, my lord? Has she recovered?" Damrod asked.

"She is out of danger now, Damrod," the Steward replied.

"Valar be praised." Damrod bowed slightly. "And now I must deliver my charge to you, milord, and ride back to Ithilien. I told the Captain I would not tarry here." The Ranger handed over his rather large parcel and bowed again. "The rest is being unloaded from the horses and brought here by the King's servants."

"Thank you, Damrod. I wish you speed and safety," Faramir replied.

The Ranger bowed again. "Give the lady my wishes for a speedy recovery."

Damrod turned and left, and Faramir entered the room once more. Éowyn had a curious look upon her face as he returned to her bedside with the parcel. "What is all this?" she asked.

"Zabathân saw to it that my belongings were returned to me," said he. "This, I suspect, was the contents of my desk there."

He opened the satchel when he was seated, taking a moment to relieve Éowyn's breakfast tray of a piece of toast. "And who gave you leave take that, my lord?" she teased.

"I am the Steward of Gondor," he replied, "and as that tray is in the realm of Gondor, its contents are under my care. And my care at this point is to eat it," he added, taking a bite from it.

"Are you certain you went only so far as Ithilien?" she asked. "For your manners better befit our friends from the Shire."

Faramir gave her a half-smile. "I will answer you later, shieldmaiden." He kissed her nose, and took another slice of bread.

Some time later, after Mithlomi had nearly been driven from the room by embarrassment at being present through such exchanges, Faramir found the rolls of parchment which he had spent so much time studying. The plans for their house lay there in the bag, and for a moment, Faramir was tempted to share them with her then, but he wanted a private moment. Though Mithlomi was very much a member of their household and often blended with the shadows when necessary, he wanted to give this to Éowyn when they were alone. And so he looked past the plans and found something entirely different in the bottom of the satchel.

Two thin sheets of wood rested in the bottom of the bag, and Faramir lifted them up with great care. Éowyn looked up at him. "What is that, my lord?"

"I know not, for I do not recognize this," said he. Carefully he laid the sheets upon the bed and lifted one from the other. There was a sheet of parchment beneath, as well as a folded letter. Faramir picked up the letter and read it.

My Lord Faramir, it has come to our attention here that your lady wife is very ill, and so we send this gift for her in hopes that she will recover soon and at last see the land in which she will dwell.

There was no signature, and Faramir did not know for certain who had sent it. He folded the letter again and placed it in his pocket, and then he placed the sheet of wood in his hand over the other. "My lord?" Éowyn prompted.

"This is for you," said he, handing it to her.

With great curiosity Éowyn took it from him and separated the wood sheets. From his angle Faramir could not tell what it was, and a look of confusion graced his wife's features. "I do not understand," said she, lifting the parchment. "It is beautiful, but what is it?"

She held it out for Faramir to look at, and his eyes widened at the sight of an ink sketch of a forest climbing up the mountain and a brook that spilled over its slope. "It is a place in Emyn Arnen," he said in disbelief. "It is where our house will be built."

Éowyn's expression froze with shock for a moment, and when she finally looked back to the sketch, her eyes were filled with tears. "It is beautiful," she repeated. "Our house will be here?"

He nodded, pointing to a place on the drawing. "There it shall stand."

She shook her head as in disbelief. "And what of the note? Did it tell who sent this?"

"Nay," said he, shaking his head, "only that they sent it to you in hopes that you will see it with your own eyes soon."

Her tears spilled down her cheeks as she replaced the top sheet of wood. "I would have you convey my thanks to all those involved in your next letter, Faramir."

"And so I shall." He looked upon her in concern. "Are you well, Éowyn?"

She smiled suddenly. "Oh, yes. Only a little tired."

His concern did not abate, but he let her finish her breakfast in silence, and then dismissed Mithlomi for the remainder of the morning. Éowyn looked at him curiously then, and he smiled. "I am rather tired as well, my lady," said he, taking off his boots, "and what sleep I have had in recent weeks, I have had on an uncomfortable cot, on the cold ground, or in a hard chair."

Faramir began to pull the mountain of pillows down from around her. "And here I find a bed which is comfortable, warm, and soft, and has the added attraction of having my wife within its covers. Though it be an hour past the dawn, I intend to sleep, and I will sleep in this bed with you in my arms, if you will permit me."

She gave him no answer in words, but instead smiled broadly. With a contented sigh, he slipped under the covers and drew her close to him, and for the first time in weeks, he slept soundly, as did she.