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CHAPTER 19

Home

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And in the week to come, a carriage took Faramir, Éowyn, and Mithlomi away from the construction of Minas Mardil, to Emyn Arnen. With them came a group of Rangers and soldiers headed by Beregond, who now formed the White Company, the Steward's Guard. They traveled north for a day, until they were in sight of Minas Tirith, and as sunset came they turned from the main road onto a little path which appeared to have had much traffic recently. With that turn, Éowyn's anticipation heightened, for she knew what lay at the end of the path.

Faramir set his arm about her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "How do you feel?" he asked, brushing his lips against her temple.

"I am well, my lord," she answered. "Ready to be out of this carriage, but well."

"Only a few minutes more, my love," Faramir replied. He looked to Mithlomi and said: "When we have made this turn, we will be able to see the place."

It was as the Steward spoke; one more bend in the road brought them in sight of the place Éowyn had seen once before in a drawing, and many times in her dreams. But there among the evergreens, the waterfall, and the brook was an addition: a large white house with its door facing west, gleaming in the sunset.

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, Faramir. . . ."

Those were the only words spoken as they neared the house, and Éowyn rested her head against her husband's shoulder. Thus they remained until the carriage came to rest before the house, and Faramir helped her and Mithlomi down. All the while Éowyn gazed upon the house in wonder.

The white stone house was set into the side of a low mountain and seemed to emerge from it; great columns lined the portico which wrapped around the three exposed sides. Wide stairs, cut for a horse's stride, led to the porch, and a path led to immense stables just away from the house. When Éowyn gazed with longing toward the stables, Faramir laughed and wrapped his arm about her waist. "In a little while," he said. "I fear there is little of interest in the stables at present, though I hope to remedy that with great speed."

As they ascended the stairs and approached the door, Éowyn laughed. "My husband builds a house and forgets to furnish our stables. Why was it I married you?"

They reached the door, Mithlomi trailing behind silently. "For my charm, Lady," Faramir replied, smiling, "and for my unparalleled good looks."

Éowyn drew away from him enough to get him to remove his arm from her, then took his hand in hers. At last she gazed upon the door to their new home, and the sight took her breath away for a moment. The White Tree of Gondor with its seven stars was carved into the great wooden door, and upon the lentil was a carving of the white horse from the banner of Rohan. Above that were carvings like unto those that encircled the Meduseld. Éowyn looked over her shoulder to take a closer look at the columns: though they were smooth at the base, the scrolling designs of Rohan were gradually carved into them as they reached the roof.

"Faramir," she breathed, "this is impossible."

"What is so impossible, Éowyn?" he asked. "That I should take care to see that my wife's culture is represented in the house of which she is mistress?"

She blinked back tears. "I thought never to see a place so beautiful to me as the Golden Hall, but I see that beauty here."

Faramir kissed her cheek and opened the door. "Enter your home, my lady," he quietly said.

Éowyn stepped through the doorway, and the first thing she saw was the seal upon the floor. The great, intricate crest of Rohan was inlaid with mithril, so lovely that she feared to step upon it. Yet a voice soon said: "Fear not, White Lady, for your footstep will not harm it."

She looked up abruptly and smiled. "Gimli!" she cried; and the dwarf approached her and kissed her hand.

"To you, Lady Éowyn, and to Lord Faramir, my people and the people of Mirkwood present this house," he said. "May your lives here be long and happy, and may your days be filled with peace."

Faramir placed his arm around his wife's shoulders once more, and they smiled down upon the dwarf. "You are generous, Master Gimli," Faramir replied. "Know that you and your kin are welcome here in Emyn Arnen at any time, for we can never begin to repay your kindness in this craftsmanship."

Gimli bowed then, and Éowyn started to speak, but then there was a great shout from below, and Faramir turned to look out the open door. The guards were rushing about in front of the house, and he called out to Beregond, who hastened up the steps. "My lord," he cried, "riders approach!"

And Éowyn turned to look too, but only one glance was necessary for her to know who approached. "Éomer!" she cried. "It is my brother!"

Indeed it was, and a few minutes later, the King of Rohan had arrived at the house with a kiss for his sister, an embrace for his brother-in-law, and a great gift for them both. With him he brought horses enough to fill their stables, and he promised to stay until Éowyn had given birth at last.

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Faramir's uncle, Imrahil, arrived a few days later with his daughter and a middle-aged woman named Marueth. She was a midwife, and had been sent from Minas Tirith by Lady Arwen to stay for a time with Éowyn and Faramir. Her arrival made the time seem to have crashed down suddenly upon Faramir, for now the child's arrival was truly imminent.

Éomer and Lothíriel provided ample entertainment in the rural setting, and when the King of Rohan could not ride out with his sister, he found that the Princess of Dol Amroth made a pleasant riding companion. Invariably they came back from their rides in a debate, and once Éowyn wondered aloud that they remained friends, since they seemed to argue so much.

Imrahil brought with him a gift as great as Éomer's horses: for he filled the shelves of Faramir's new library with stacks upon stacks of books. In that room Faramir wished to spend many hours, but instead he spent his time with Éowyn, who was outside as often as she could be. In her condition she was content to sit on the porch for hours, though she did insist that her horse be brought up on occasion so she could feed her sugar and ensure that neither horse nor rider was forgotten.

A week after the midwife's arrival, Faramir thought that Éowyn was carrying the child somewhat lower than she had been in days previous. But it was not until the midwife commented on this with delight that Faramir wondered what it meant. And to his question, Marueth gave the Steward a patronizing smile and said simply that the long months of anticipation would be over very soon.

And the next few days flew by, much the same as they were before, except that Éowyn found walking even more difficult. Faramir was almost positive that she was not sleeping at all, for he certainly was not getting any sleep with her constant shifting and trying to find a comfortable position. Then one night she retired to her room with a sharp pain in her back, and when she awoke the next morning, she was still complaining of it.

With his arm around her waist to support her, however, they came down for breakfast, finding their guests already seated. As Faramir helped her sit in her place at the foot of the table, she winced, and he touched her cheek. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Éowyn nodded. "Just hungry."

He had his doubts, but Faramir walked to the other end of the table and sat down anyway. The meal began quite pleasantly, with Éomer and Lothíriel apparently in a mood to agree upon things for once. Imrahil and Éowyn talked extensively about a variety of subjects, and every once in a while, Faramir would look down the table at his wife and frown. For while she had professed hunger, she barely touched her food.

Then at the end of the meal, Éowyn lifted up her glass to take a drink, but before it reached her lips, she cried out. With a clatter the silver cup fell to the table and then rolled off to the floor. "Éowyn!" cried several voices at once, and Faramir rushed around the room to her side.

She was gasping, her hand upon her stomach. "Éowyn, is it time?" Faramir asked, kneeling beside her. When he got no response, he turned to his cousin. "Lothíriel, fetch the midwife."

Lothíriel flew from the room at his command. In the meantime, Éomer had stood at Éowyn's side and taken her hand in his. "Sister, is it time?" he asked.

She bit down on her lip, squeezed her eyes shut, and nodded. Then she began to breath again, and her grip on her brother's hand relaxed. With pale face and bright eyes, she turned to Faramir. "I love you," she whispered.

Faramir leaned forward and kissed her brow. "I love you."

Lothíriel returned then with both Mithlomi and Marueth, the latter of whom immediately got Éowyn on her feet. "Come now, child," she said. "We cannot have you giving birth in the dining room, can we?"

And as Mithlomi, Lothíriel, and Marueth whisked Éowyn out of the dining room, Faramir could only stand and watch. Then his uncle stood from the table as well and walked over to clap his shoulder. "Congratulations, my boy," said Imrahil. "You're about to become a father."