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CHAPTER 13

Plans

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In the morning, Faramir arose early and walked into his dressing room, leaving the door open behind him in case Éowyn should wake before he was finished. Sometime in the night he had come to the conclusion that his brooding had gone on long enough. It was time for him to move on, for without that, Éowyn would never find the strength she needed to carry this child. He had seen as much the previous night; and he chastised himself for whatever pain he had made her endure, what streams of self-doubt she had navigated ere he had told her all. It was a mistake he was determined not to make again. For her sake he would be strong, and perhaps her strength would bolster his as well.

He first wrote out a message to Zabathân: they had known that it would be some time before construction on the city would be plausible, and so they had spoken of sending a small team of workers to Emyn Arnen. It was now time, Faramir deemed, for he did not wish for his child to be born in Minas Tirith. Something about Ithilien seemed more sacred, and he wished very much to fulfill his promise to Éowyn, that they would leave the city, ere the child was born. As so he wrote to the master of construction and placed the message with the official documents which would go out with the daily correspondence with Ithilien.

He opened the satchel which Damrod had brought and finally drew from it the rolls of parchment which he had made such a study of in Ithilien. Soon they were unrolled and scattered about the floor, various small objects from his desk weighing down the corners. The man who had designed the house had been born in Gondor, but was of Rohirric descent, and so many elements of both cultures' architectural styles had been woven together in the tapestry of the design. The warm luxury of Meduseld combined with the cool elegance of the royal halls of Minas Tirith into something altogether unique, and not unlike their own relationship. Above all else, it would be constructed from materials found in Emyn Arnen, so that the house was a part of the land.

Then Faramir heard the soft padding footsteps of his wife, and he turned to see her at the door. "Faramir?" said Éowyn. "Why woke you so early?"

The Steward smiled at her and beckoned her to his side. "Habit, I fear," he replied. "I am no more used to sloth and idleness than you."

Her arms were wrapped around her middle as she crossed over to him, and even when she sat beside him on the floor and he pulled her closer to him, she did not relax. "Are you cold?" he asked.

"A little." Faramir raised a brow at this, for she wore only a light robe. "My winter robe has not yet been unpacked."

"Did you take it to the King's house during my absence?"

"Aye, my lord," she replied. She seemed a little uncomfortable in speaking about it, and she turned her attention to the papers before her. "What is all this?"

Faramir lifted up one of the floor plans and handed it to her. "Our house," he gently said. "Our house in Ithilien."

For a long time they sat in silence as they both studied the intricate drawings. When Éowyn had examined the last of the papers, a tear slipped down her nose, and Faramir moved his hand to catch it before it soiled the paper. Then she set it aside and wrapped her arms around her husband at last. "Thank you," she whispered, placing a soft kiss upon the scar on his shoulder.

Faramir kissed her temple and drew her closer. "I have written to Zabathân to tell him to begin construction on our house immediately," said he. "I want our child to be born in Ithilien, not here."

Éowyn looked up at him for a moment, and then kissed him softly. "We should write to our hobbit friends and tell them of our good news."

"And so I shall."

"Do you wish for a son or a daughter, my lord?"

"A few of each," he replied, smiling a little as he brushed his fingers through her hair.

"I meant this time," she clarified, a little breathless after another kiss.

Faramir drew back to look deeply into her eyes. "I care not," said he, "so long as the child you carry is healthy, and you are with me."

It seemed then that Éowyn was at a loss for words, for she stopped his mouth with a kiss, and neither spoke for quite some time.

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Two weeks later, Éomer, Imrahil, Amrothos, and Lothíriel were ready to depart, and on their last evening, Faramir and Éowyn joined the royal guests for a dinner with Aragorn and Arwen. There was no Court assembly that night, only an intimate gathering of friends. It seemed that perhaps Éomer and Lothíriel were stuck in a cycle of endless bickering which, while quite entertaining for those observing, must have been rather frustrating for them both.

It was after one such a dispute that Aragorn turned to his Steward. "Lord Faramir, will you offer up the first toast this evening?" he asked.

Faramir nodded and lifted up his glass of wine. He had spent some time preparing something to say at this point, but now those words had fled. Everyone was looking at him expectantly, especially Éowyn. It was the grave joy in her eyes that gave him voice again, and he said: "I drink to the health and safety of my wife, and the child she carries."

The delighted gasp he heard from the other end of the table was Lothíriel's for certain. Yet before anyone commented, they all drank from their glasses, and Éowyn's face shone with her joy. Faramir took her hand then and kissed it, and then they turned their attention to their friends.

"What have the Healers said, sister?" asked Éomer.

"That there may be nothing to fear at all," she answered.

Faramir opened his mouth to speak, but his cousin Lothíriel proceded him. "Fear?" said she. "Cousins, what have you to fear?"

The Steward looked to his King, who was shifting in his seat, exchanging a stolen glance with Arwen. Yet it was Éowyn who answered Lothíriel. "This is not the first time I have been with child," she softly replied. "Last summer I carried a son, and lost him ere we made it known that I would bear him."

Lothíriel, normally so bright and exuberant, paled and fell silent, and her brother Amrothos laid his hand upon her arm. Faramir's gaze travelled around the table and at last rested upon his wife, and he touched her cheek to turn her face to him. "Yet there is hope," he said.

"Great hope," Éowyn replied; and he kissed her, soft and chaste.

Éomer cleared his throat. "When should we expect this child?" he asked.

Faramir smiled and turned to his brother-in-law. "By the end of March, I deem."

"To bring one's firstborn into the world in springtime is a great blessing indeed, Faramir," said Imrahil, speaking at last. "Will you be here in Minas Tirith then?"

"Where else would they go, Father?" asked Amrothos.

Then the King spoke. "I have it on good authority, Prince Amrothos," said he, "that the Steward has already made plans for a house in Ithilien, and wishes to be there for the birth of this child."

Faramir leaned back in his seat, Éowyn's hand clasped tightly in his. "It has been my wish ever since the crown was restored to Lord Aragorn that I might cross the river and dwell in the land of the moon," he said. "And if the King grants it, I will quit this city for the springs and summers to come, and dwell in fair Ithilien with my lady wife."

Aragorn smiled. "And the King grants it full willing, if the Evenstar would willingly part with her favorite minstrel."

The group laughed heartily then, and Faramir lifted Éowyn's hand to his lips once more. He was surprised at her silence, but it became her, for it was not the silence of sorrow. It was the silence of a heart too full of bliss to express itself, the herald of a most perfect joy.

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