Faramir led Éowyn along the rocky path (no blindfolds needed now, yet still he bid her cover her eyes, that the surprise might be greater) to the cavern behind the waterfall.
Pausing, he contemplated the past. Had it truly been but two years since hobbit here had borne Isildur’s Bane about his neck? Since quiet word had stayed arrows that gangrel creature might live, who would carry ring and finger together into the fire?
Drawing his wife to the spray-drenched window, he caught her hands in his, uncovering her gaze to the glory of rainbow sunset dazzle. “Happy birthday, beloved.”