Chapter 29- Revelations

Besides Éomer and myself, several of the higher-ranking officers of Rohan’s military had been invited to the King’s feast. They quickly followed us into Minas Tirith, and the crowds were willing enough to make way for us—especially once Elfhelm and Erkenbrand took it into their heads to shout orders to make way for the King of Rohan. Éomer lowered his voice and protested, “I was only named Théoden’s heir; I am not yet made king.”

The two Marshals merely laughed as Elfhelm stated, “That may be true, but the men of Gondor do not need to know that.”

“Besides,” Erkenbrand added, “it is so much quicker than saying ‘Make way for the uncrowned heir to the throne of Rohan!’” I laughed as Éomer glared at them both balefully.

Despite their best efforts, it still took quite some time for us to make our way to the uppermost level of the city. By the time that we reached the Citadel, it seemed that the festivities had already begun, at least if the celebratory sounds that greeted our ears when we entered the main hall were any indication. Several large tables had been set up throughout the room, and many people were milling about near those, though none were yet seated. Judging from their outfits, it seemed that most of them were either nobles of Gondor or other military officers. The longest table was placed near the head of the room, and this was where I saw Aragorn and Faramir standing, as well as the four Halflings, Gandalf, and their other companions that I had become acquainted with in the past several weeks.

Many dark-clad servants were moving throughout the room as well, and one posted near the door hurried off to announce our arrival to Aragorn. Upon looking over and seeing us waiting near the door, he turned and spoke to Faramir, and the two of them walked towards us. “My Lord Éomer,” Aragorn said as they drew within earshot, a friendly twinkle in his eye belying the serious tone of his voice, “it was good of you to come.” He bowed his head slightly in greeting, and Éomer did the same. His eyes then flicked over to me and his expression grew more formal. “Lady Éowyn,” he added more quietly, “I am glad to see that you are restored to health.”

“Thank you, my lord,” I replied with equal civility. I hoped that my face did not show my discomfort at his presence, especially as he politely took my hand and pressed a light kiss to the back of it. Nor did I dare to look up at Faramir, who was standing just behind the King, not wishing to see it if he looked hurt or jealous at the exchange.

Aragorn released my hand quickly, then raised his head to address the other Rohirrim in a louder voice. “My friends from the North,” he said, “you are most welcome here.” They bowed and murmured their thanks as several more servants appeared to show them to their seats. Aragorn looked at Éomer and added, “Please allow me to escort you to our table.”

“With pleasure,” Éomer replied, then looked over at me, obviously unsure whether to lead me there himself or to turn me over to Aragorn.

In response to his unspoken question, Aragorn glanced over at Faramir and said, “Lord Faramir, would you do me the favor of escorting Lady Eowyn to her seat?”

As I glanced over at Aragorn, wondering if he had somehow learned of the growing relationship between me and his Steward, Faramir looked at Éomer and calmly stated, “With her brother’s permission, I would be honored to, my Lord.” Éomer looked rather uncertain at this prospect, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were sizing up Faramir and his intentions with me, but then curtly nodded and released my arm before stepping to Aragorn’s side. The two of them began talking more quietly, but obviously less formally as they headed for the main table.

As Faramir took my arm and began to lead me towards the table as well, he said, “Once again the arrival of your people has proven timely, my lady. I have recently been informed by Master Brandybuck and Master Took that they are likely to wither away to nothing if the feast does not begin soon.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile as he looked at me, and I had to cover my mouth with my other hand to prevent myself from bursting into laughter. “Then I am glad we arrived when we did, my lord,” I replied, grateful for the lift to my spirits that his lighthearted comment had given me. “I would not wish to have the starvation of a Halfling on my conscience.” I paused, then cautiously added, “I am surprised that the King would come to greet us himself. It does not seem to fit with your people’s formal manners.”

“It is rather unconventional,” Faramir admitted. “But I believe his intention was to show the nobles that he regards the Rohirrim as fully equal allies to the men of Gondor.” His eyes met mine then and he added quietly, “A sentiment that I am in full agreement with.” I smiled at him, but there was no time for any further words between us as we reached the table. Faramir led me to my seat, then released my arm and moved to take his place to the left of Aragorn—it seemed that he had deferred the seat to the right to Gandalf. Aragorn moved to his seat, waiting until all who were in attendance had arrived at their seats, then sat down. The rest of the company then followed suit.

The seating had been arranged so that the four hobbits had been seated in places of honor next to Gandalf and Faramir, with two on each side. Éomer had been seated next to Merry, and I had been placed across from him and next to Pippin. Éomer leaned over slightly as the servants began to carry several large, heavily-laden trays out and whispered that Aragorn had told him that he had no wish to slight the King of Rohan, and had wanted to know if the seating arrangement would suit. “Which is fine with me,” Éomer added, then raised his voice as he looked pointedly at the hobbits and continued, “provided some of the food actually reaches my plate.”

Merry, who had been talking animatedly with Pippin, looked up and innocently asked, “Whatever do you mean, my lord?”

Éomer calmly sat back and smirked. “I mean, Meriadoc,” he stated, “As a knight of Rohan it is your duty to ensure that your King leaves the table sufficiently fed.” He folded his arms across his chest in an intimidating manner, though the grin on his face completely spoiled the effect.

“You should be ashamed, brother, using your throne—when I clearly remember you stating that it is not truly yours yet within the past hour—against a defenseless hobbit to rob him of his supper!” I interjected with an innocent smile.

“Defenseless? Hardly,” Éomer sputtered, and Merry and Pippin both burst out laughing. Éomer was saved from having to make a verbal counter-attack, however, as Aragorn began passing the food around.

Between the two hobbits at my left, and the constant banter between Legolas and Gimli, who were at my and Éomer’s other sides, I was far from lacking in entertainment for the duration of the meal. Though Merry had spoken quite often of his time spent with the other remaining members of the Fellowship, and I had spoken with each of them myself to varying degrees, it was the first time I had seen them all together and I was fascinated by watching the interactions and the obvious strong bonds among such a diverse group. Oddly enough, it seemed as though they had accepted Éomer, Faramir and I as part of this strange family, despite how much more recently we had come into their acquaintances. I still felt rather awkward speaking to Aragorn, though, and spent most of the time either talking to my brother or Merry and Pippin. With Faramir being seated several places down, I had little opportunity to speak with him at all—a smile on the occasions his eyes would briefly meet mine was more or less all the contact I had with him for the entirety of the meal.

Once the feasting had begun to die down, the musicians who were present began to play more loudly, and the servants began clearing off some of the tables before moving them aside to make more room on the floor. Aragorn rose from his seat, and as he moved to a nearby table, those of us seated at his table also started to break off into other conversations. I watched with Merry and Pippin as several couples among the Gondorian nobility stood up and began moving gracefully across the floor in time with the music. The dance looked far more formal and stately than anything we had in Rohan. It seemed that the hobbits were of a like mind, as Merry said, “I wonder that they can enjoy themselves at all with such complicated-looking steps. It seems like a lot to remember, doesn’t it, Pip?”

“I don’t think they’re enjoying themselves much at all, Merry,” Pippin agreed. “Hardly any of them are smiling.”

Merry turned to me then. “What about you, Lady Éowyn? Do you think the dance looks like fun?”

“I am certain that I would be too busy trying to figure out the steps—and apologizing to the unfortunate man whose toes I would be stepping on in the process—to find much pleasure in it,” I answered dryly.

Merry grinned mischievously; apparently my answer had been precisely what he had hoped for. “What do you think, Pippin? Should we show her how people dance at a party in the Shire?”

Next to Pippin, Samwise began to look worried. “You won’t climb on the tables again, will you? I daresay folks would frown upon that in these parts.”

Éomer rolled his eyes in a very unkingly fashion. “And I daresay I would frown upon Halfling feet trampling on my plate.”

“You worry too much, Sam,” Merry said innocently.

“Yes, I need at least another ale before I would actually do it,” Pippin added.

Frodo smiled faintly. “I have seen you act on far less ale than you’ve already had, Pippin.”

“Oh, I’ll behave myself, Frodo.” Pippin sighed before straightening up and adding proudly, “After all, I’m in the service of the King here, and I suppose getting thrown out of the party wouldn’t make him look very good, would it?” Apparently Gimli had been listening in from the other side of Éomer, since he released a snort at that.

Merry ignored Pippin’s question and looked over at the musicians, who were beginning a faster, but somehow still formal-sounding, song. “Come on, Pippin,” he said, grinning at his cousin before turning to Éomer. “And with your permission, my lord, I would like to claim Lady Éowyn for this dance as well.”

“Oh?” Éomer raised an eyebrow and glanced over at me.

I laughed as I pushed my chair back. “Someone has to keep these two out of trouble, brother,” I answered as Pippin grabbed my hand and pulled me around to the other side of the table, where Merry grabbed my other hand.

The two hobbits joined their other hands, and began a lively circle dance. The steps were easy to pick up on, and I could not help laughing as I tried to stay in step with the much-shorter Halflings. I stopped briefly as I faced the tables during one round when I saw that Faramir and Éomer were talking to each other. It was easy to guess that they were speaking about me, as I saw Éomer’s eyes dart towards me with a look on his face somewhere between confusion and suspicion, and it was only when Pippin ran into my legs that I looked away. Merry broke the circle with Pippin, moving in a circle around me while he still held my hand. He glanced over at the two men, then up at me; it seemed that he had figured out what was going on, since he smiled at me reassuringly.

The moment the song ended, Éomer was at my side. “We need to talk, Éowyn,” he said quietly but firmly. I glanced over at Faramir briefly as I let go of Merry and Pippin’s hands, but I could not read the expression on his face. “Is there anywhere quieter around here?” Éomer continued.

“Anywhere outside of the main hall would be quieter than here,” I replied, beginning to be worried. Éomer took my arm without another word and steered me away from the crowd and outside the main doors; as we walked away, I could hear Pippin asking Merry what was going on. Once the doors had shut behind us, Éomer let go of my arm, but instead of speaking, he began pacing a bit without looking at me, obviously agitated. When I could bear his prowling no longer, I blurted out, “Éomer, what is the matter?”

“I have just had a rather…interesting conversation with your friend, the Steward,” he said, still not looking at me.

“Oh?” I asked uncertainly, wondering if he was angry.

Éomer replied, “It seems he has developed some sort of feelings for you, and asked for my permission to court you.”

“And what did you say?” I asked him.

A short, humorless laugh escaped his mouth. “I told him I would need to speak with you first, because I would not wish to grant him the right to seek your hand against your wishes. But it seems that he is rather confident that you would be willing.” His eyes finally met mine then, and he looked more confused than anything else. “A strange assertion, since I had been led to believe you had feelings for Aragorn.”

“I know.” I paused, trying to collect my thoughts. “It is true that, when we left Rohan, I believed myself to be in love with Lord Aragorn, and I had truly hoped that he would return that. But I know now that I was merely deceiving myself, and that any regard he may have shown towards me was nothing more than friendship, or pity; I know not which one it was.”

“So you do not care for Aragorn, then?” Éomer asked.

I shook my head. “I did not say that either. I have a great deal of respect for him, and I do hope that someday I might be able to think of him as a friend, but I know now that he could never love me. Nor do I now believe I could love him.”

Éomer began pacing again. “And where does Lord Faramir fit into all this?” he asked.

I sighed. “I must confess that I was not entirely truthful with you the other day, Éomer,” I admitted. “We did become friends at the Houses of Healing, and for some time that was all I saw him as. But as I came to know him better, I began to care for him more, and…and I love him, Éomer,” I blurted out.

Éomer abruptly turned away from me, and though he did not face me I could see his jaw tightening as he stared intently into nothing. “Please say something,” I finally pleaded.

When he looked back at me, his expression was a strange mixture of hurt, anger and bewilderment. “How can you be so certain this time?” he asked. “It is unlike you to be so fickle, Éowyn. How has this man managed to bewitch you so quickly?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “He—I mean, surely you and he did not…”

“Of course not!” I interrupted indignantly. “Faramir has never treated me with anything but respect, and if you knew him at all, you would know he is not the type to use a woman for his pleasure and then cast her aside. Nor has he bewitched me in any way.” Éomer was obviously unconvinced, so I stepped closer and laid a hand on his arm. “He is not like Gríma, Éomer,” I said softly.

“I would hope not!” Éomer folded his arms across his chest, then sighed heavily. “Are you truly so desperate to leave Rohan then, that you cannot seek happiness among our own people?”

“It is not like that at all,” I protested. “Is that what this is about, that he is Gondorian?” Éomer did not answer, and it was my turn to sigh. “My feelings for Faramir have nothing to do with where he is from; I am certain that I would not care for him any more or less if he was from Rohan,” I stated. “I will not ask you to be happy for me, brother, but can you at least try to understand?”

“I need time, Éowyn,” he replied.

I could see the turmoil in his eyes, and my heart sank. “What will you tell Faramir, then?” I asked.

“Just what I told you,” he said, abruptly turning and opening the door to go back into the main hall. He motioned for me to enter first, then followed me inside. I allowed him to pass me as he walked over towards Faramir, who was speaking to Lothiríel. When Faramir saw him, he quickly excused himself and stepped away a few paces. For a silent moment, the two men eyed each other. Then Éomer said curtly, “You will have your answer, Lord Faramir, but not yet. I cannot and will not give my word on this lightly.”

“Nor would I expect you to, Lord Éomer,” Faramir replied.

Éomer looked as if he wanted to say something else, but then thought better of it. His expression darkened momentarily, then turned to sadness as he glanced over at me. Then he turned and walked off without another word.

I watched him go, then turned as I felt Faramir step closer to me. “Take heart, my love,” he said softly. “He did not say no.”

“I know,” I replied, turning more fully towards him as I began to walk to the side of the room, away from the crowds. “But I did not expect him to take it so hard.”

Faramir looked over his shoulder thoughtfully towards Éomer, who was now talking with some of his men. “I suppose this is all rather sudden for him,” he mused as we reached the wall and turned back to face the room. “I must admit that, were our places reversed, I would most likely be suspicious as well if I left believing my sister to be enamored of one man, only to return to find her certain she loves another.”

“He more or less said just the same,” I admitted.

Faramir smiled at me reassuringly. “I am certain that all will be well, once he has time to get used to the idea,” he said, “though I can hardly blame him for being reluctant to give you over to the care of another man.”

A smile twitched at the corner of my mouth in spite of myself. “I hope you are right, Faramir,” I replied.

His eyes looked earnestly into mine as he took my hand and said firmly, “I have no wish to come between you and your brother. You know Éomer better than I, and I know not what it will take for him to grant me your hand, but if it lies within my power, I will do it. We will be together, Éowyn, I promise you that.”

“I believe you,” I answered. “I truly do, Faramir. But I had hoped he would be happy for me.” I looked over towards Éomer again and said, “I suppose I just need to give him time, like he asked.”

Faramir nodded. “And I will wait as long as I need to.” I smiled at him appreciatively, squeezing his hand lightly as we moved back towards the crowd again.