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CHAPTER 12

Revelation

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A fortnight passed before Éowyn and Faramir finally quit the house of the King and returned to their home. She was very glad to be back in her own house, though her brother remained with the King. She was home, in her chambers, in her bed, in her husband's arms.

And yet she did not sleep so peacefully as one might have assumed. The full moon had passed a few days before, and the only sign of blood she saw was from nosebleeds that were becoming more prevalent, and more difficult to conceal. And on that night in which they had arrived home once more, a strange sensation awoke her.

It was a rather fluttery feeling, she decided, like some invisible hand was gently tickling her, only deep within her stomach. Long she lay awake, her hand on her stomach, trying to remember why something so odd felt familiar. Closing her eyes, she gently depressed her fingers, and the fluttering increased. Abruptly her eyes flew open, and Éowyn knew exactly when she had felt this before.

Breathing became difficult for a moment as she slowly rose from her bed. Faramir turned in his sleep toward the space she had just vacated, and Éowyn wrapped herself in her robe. She needed the open air, and despite the chill of the night, she stepped onto the balcony as she attempted to absorb this new information.

She had felt the child within her stir.

There was no question about it now: she was with child. By the new moon a fourth month would pass in which her time of sickness had not come. Morning sickness had come and gone, her breasts had been sore for weeks, and now she was having nosebleeds. All of these symptoms were very familiar, and all pointed to her being pregnant again.

"Éowyn?"

She tensed slightly. "Faramir," said she, looking over her shoulder to see her husband behind her. "I did not mean to wake you."

"It is no matter." He rested his hand upon her shoulder, and they both looked out from their balcony, gazing toward Ithilien.

They stood in silence for a time, and Éowyn began to wonder how she would tell him of this discovery. She knew his nature: he was already more concerned for her than either of them would like, and the news of her carrying his child—potentially his heir—would be enough to transform concern into fear. So much of Faramir's life had been spent in sorrow; even after the war was over, their lands were freed, and he had married, it seemed that he could not long outrun the shadow of pain. For this Éowyn was most sorry. Had she known that she would lose that child the previous summer, she might not have married him, for she would never have willingly nor intentionally brought sorrow upon him.

Then she heard his soft voice in her ear. "Would you like to go riding tomorrow?"

Éowyn smiled. "Can you be spared from your duties here?"

"Let me worry about that," said Faramir.

"Then yes, I would like to very much," she replied.

His hands rested on her shoulders then, and his chest pressed against her back as he breathed. Another long silence passed, and he said: "You fear neither death nor pain, and I have put you too near to both since we were wed. But have I caged you now, Éowyn?"

There was a soft sense of regret and anxiety in his voice just then, and Éowyn sought to allay his fear. "Never, my lord," she replied.

Slowly he nodded as he ran his hands down her arms and then slipped his arms about her in a light embrace. "I love you," he whispered, bowing his head so that his breath brushed across her ear as he spoke.

Éowyn opened her mouth to reply, but gasped instead as Faramir placed a soft, reverent kiss just below her earlobe, and then proceeded to brush a gentle trail of kisses down her neck. She brought one hand up to touch his cheek, and he sighed. He nuzzled his face in the curve of her neck, leaving Éowyn quite unable to breathe for several seconds.

But Faramir was not yet finished. As he continued his soft ministrations, Éowyn remembered a time in Minas Tirith before Éomer had given his consent to their betrothal, when she and Faramir had been able to spend a rare moment alone. Things had become warm and breathless in a hurry, and Éowyn had marvelled that things had not progressed further than they had. Now her husband seemed far more subdued, but two years of marriage had taught him how to touch her, and how she would respond. Though she was still keenly aware of the night air, every passing moment took more and more of her self-control to keep from turning in his arms, kissing him wildly, and stumbling back to their bed for a few moments of passion.

And then Faramir did something she did not expect: he slowly moved his hand down to rest upon her abdomen, and Éowyn remembered the child.

"Faramir, I must tell you something." Her words were breathless and hurried.

"What is it, my love?" he asked, holding her tightly to him.

Éowyn paused for a moment, collecting her words. "I am with child."

He did not stiffen as she would have thought. Instead he asked: "Are you certain?"

She nodded. "I have felt the child move."

Then he froze. A moment later he released her from his embrace and murmured, so low she could barely hear: "It is as I feared."

Éowyn spun around then to see her husband retreating from her, walking toward the fire. She found herself gripping at the balcony rail as that statement played through her mind. He had feared this—did he likewise fear that she had been unfaithful in his absence, and that this child was not his? Had he decided that he did not wish to have children after all? Did that make this child unwanted?

Or was it her? Since she had already lost one child of his blood, did he think her unworthy to bear his children?

Some small part of her mind told her that her fears were irrational, yet tears came to her eyes, and she did not care to check them, nor wipe them as they flowed down her cheeks. She watched as Faramir stared into the fire, his hands joined, and a look of sorrow upon his face. Then a soft sob escaped her throat, and he looked up sharply.

"Éowyn?" he said. "My lady, I did not—Éowyn, come here."

She did as he bade her and approached his chair. Faramir took her hands and pulled her down to sit upon his lap, and he held her tightly to him. Éowyn rested against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her hand and cheek, and began to cry anew. Faramir rubbed her back and waited until she had calmed herself, and then he brushed her tears from her cheeks with his fingers, rough and calloused from hours upon hours of practice with the bow and arrow.

"I am sorry," he whispered.

At last she found her voice and asked: "Do you not want the babe, my lord?"

"My love," he said, in contrast to the title she had given him, "I would never think or say such a thing."

She looked up at him and saw that his eyes were bright, as if he too had tears which needed to be shed. "Then why this anger?"

"Oh, Éowyn, I am not angry." The statement perplexed her, and she furrowed her brow. He kissed the top of her head. "I am only concerned. Think you I have no cause for it?"

She looked away. "You have cause," she replied. "Yet I would wish you would be happy now."

He was silent for a long time, and Éowyn began to wonder what troubled him so. At last he said: "You nearly died last summer."

She sat up swiftly and stared at him. "What?"

"When we lost the child," said he, his voice thick and rough, "I nearly lost you as well. I cannot help but think of that danger now, and if I had my choice, I would rather have you than have a hundred children."

Blinking slowly, Éowyn asked: "What happened, Faramir?"

He looked away from her, but took her hand tightly in his. "I was late in coming home that night," said he. "Very late. You were collapsed on the floor, and there was blood everywhere. Your blood." He closed his eyes, which were by then full of great pain. "The Healers told me that had I been but a quarter hour later, I would have found you dead in this room."

Éowyn gasped. "Oh, Faramir. . . .Why did you never tell me?"

Faramir pulled her to his chest once more. "For so long you were weak, and I did not wish to overburden you with this. I knew how hard the child's death was."

She rested her hand over his heart. "And so you overburdened yourself with this knowledge."

He did not answer her. And a few moments later, she felt his broad shoulders tremble, and she looked up to see him shed the tears in his eyes. "Oh, Faramir," she murmured, brushing her lips against his cheek, temple, and brow. "I am sorry."

Faramir held her very tightly to him then, and it was long before he relaxed at all. Even then, they remained in the chair by the fireplace, and Éowyn had nearly drifted back into sleep when her husband lifted her gently and carried her back to bed. She was too tired to protest when he removed her robe for her. Then he kissed her brow and put her robe away, but she was already asleep by the time he returned.