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CHAPTER 17

Burdens

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And so it was that days passed into weeks in Ithilien: the weather grew cold, the men grew fearful, and Éowyn grew uncomfortable in more ways than one. Riding was out of the question and occasionally, standing and walking about for any length of time was as well. The camp grew tense, and when she was around the men for long periods, the child would feel her tension and become agitated. So she kept to her tent more than she liked, with Mithlomi as her constant (and often only) companion during the day, when Faramir had work to be done in the camp. And she often remembered another time when she had felt trapped, then in the Houses of Healing. Though she had felt at the time that she would be driven to desperate measures for lack of occupation, those days of tedium and tension at the end of the War had led her to the happiest moment of her life. And every day in Ithilien brought her closer and closer to a blessed event which would make her happier still.

It was on an afternoon more than two months after their arrival in Ithilien that Faramir came in, his cloak and dark hair liberally sprinkled with snow. Éowyn could not suppress the smile on her face, as she was barely holding in laughter at the sight, so she turned her face back to the book in her hands. After Faramir had removed his cloak, gloves, and heavy boots (and Éowyn had read none of the words on the page before her), he stood with his arms crossed and looked at her. "And why do you smile, Lady fair?"

She turned her merry countenance up to him. "Must I have a reason to smile, Lord?"

"Nay, Lady, not always," he replied, "but you seem a moment from laughter."

Her smile broadened. "I take it there is much snow outside?" she asked.

He walked over and sat at the foot of the bed. "That, my dear, is an understatement. But it should be the last snowfall of the winter. Spring is on our doorstep."

With those words, he suddenly grabbed her bare feet; and Éowyn gasped, for his hands were icy. "Faramir!" she cried, kicking at him. "Faramir, let go!"

After a few more seconds of struggling, he did release her, and he laid down beside her as she sat upon the bed, her back supported by many pillows. "Where is Mithlomi?"

"That young Ranger asked her to go for a walk with him, and I told her to go."

"Adûman?" he asked. When she nodded, Faramir frowned up at her. "You know I do not like you to be alone much."

Éowyn calmly turned a page in her book. "Beregond has checked on me every few minutes."

The sound of a page rustling was apparently enough to distract Faramir from the fact that Éowyn had let her maid leave her unaccompanied. "What are you reading?"

"Brushing up on my Elvish," she replied. "It has been a while."

"Translate something for me," he said.

"Now?" she asked. "I have no parchment."

She looked down to see Faramir close his eyes. "You should not need it."

Éowyn frowned at the Elvish words. It had indeed been some time since she had looked at any Elvish, and even longer since the last time Faramir had sat with her and really taught her. The idea of an impromptu examination was not something she relished, but she flipped through the book anyway and found a passage.

"O Star-Queen, Star-Kindler," she began; and the rest was a little halting, as Elvish did not translate word-for-word into the language of men. "Glittering and sparkling down like jewels from the starry host of heaven. Gazing into that remotest part from Middle-earth, I will chant to thee, the snow-white, from this side of the sea, here on this side of the sea."

While she was translating, Faramir had readjusted himself to lay his head upon her lap, as best he could, given the space her swollen belly now took up. He glanced up at her when she finished, and then closed his eyes once more and said:

"A Elbereth Gilthoniel
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-díriel
o galadhremmin ennorath
Fanuilos le linnathon
nef aear, si nef aearon!"

Éowyn set the book aside and ran her fingers through her husband's hair. "It should stay in the Elven-tongue, my lord. It sounds ill in the Common Speech."

"That it does," he agreed. When she stopped brushing her fingers through his hair, he frowned. "No," he said. "That feels good."

Smiling, she resumed and asked: "Why did you teach me Elvish in the first place, my lord?"

Faramir folded his hands over his stomach and smiled. "Because, my lady, I would have gone mad without occupation when we were cloistered in the Houses of Healing, and in you I found a ready, if not enthusiastic, pupil. For I believe you were much as I the same in those days, when we awaited news from the battle." And he looked up at her at last. "It was well that I did."

She looked down in bemusement. "What do you mean, my lord?"

"Have I never told you?" he said. "It was when I was teaching you the Elven-tongue that I knew that I loved you."

Her breath caught in her throat. "No, you never told me," she said, softly. "How terrible it must have been for you."

He looked up at her, his brow furrowed. "Whatever do you mean?"

Éowyn stroked his hair again. "You knew all along that I desired the love of the Lord Aragorn," she replied. "And yet you also knew that you loved me and desired my love in return."

"I knew something else that day." Faramir sat up and moved as close to her as he could, and then took her hands in his. "I knew that I had an opportunity which the Lord Aragorn did not: I had you as my pupil."

She shook her head. "I do not understand."

"In that time, as I taught you Elvish, I tried to teach you how to let a man love you, and how to love him in return." He touched her cheek. "You were frightened once of my attentions, were you not, Éowyn?"

She nodded and rested her hand against her stomach. "Many times," she quietly replied. "I was unused to men of honor speaking so freely and affectionately with me."

"And so I had to teach you not to fear me, and not to fear what I offered you: for I offered you everything, and that, I think, was something wholly new to you." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "And I believe I had a little success."

At that Éowyn laughed and looked down to where Faramir's hand now rested, atop hers on her stomach. "More than a little, I deem," she replied. Stroking his cheek, she continued: "And it was when I knew you loved me, and that you would love me no matter my state, that I knew I loved you in return. You saw me for everything I was then, and loved me anyway."

Faramir leaned forward then, and Éowyn did not object as their lips met in a kiss that seemed to last for only a moment, and for an age. It was slow and sultry, with soft caresses that seemed to linger on the skin. Only when the child kicked with exceptional strength did Éowyn break away, gasping. "Are you all right?" Faramir asked.

She nodded, and then smiled. "How you can insist I carry a daughter is beyond me."

"Because, my love," he replied, "any daughter of yours will have your strength."

"And any son of yours will have your gentleness."

Éowyn sighed. Yet before she could speak again, a sound like none she had ever heard filled the air, and Faramir leaned back. He helped her stand from the bed, and once her feet were in her warm shoes, she took his arm and walked to the tent opening. And there they saw the sight for which they had waited for the last nine weeks—horses in the distance, ridden by masters who were not at all concerned with the elements.

The Elves of Lórien had arrived at last.