Prologue: Avoiding the Obvious and the Not So Obvious

He walked into the garden, carrying a tray with a flagon of wine and two pewter goblets. She looked up from her seat on the flagstone terrace and beamed. Then she closed the thick and ancient book on her lap, placing it carefully on the stones. She took the goblet gratefully and brought it to her lips, sipping the wine, feeling its tannin pucker her mouth as he stepped behind her and draped his arms around her shoulders.

"I'm nervous about this event," she admitted. "A part of me wishes I didn't have to go."

His lips barely touched her neck but it was enough to turn her pale skin red. He was about to bury his face below the forest of pins that kept her hair piled atop her head when she gestured to the garden. There several men were pruning the flowering bushes that had been planted the previous Spring.

"Ahem, will you have the gardeners watch us? I would not."

"I'm sure they know I love you," he stood up, but left a hand softly on her elaborate chignon.

She patted her ever more prominent abdomen, which could no longer be concealed by high waisted gowns. "Our child is the very visible proof," she said proudly.

"Proof of what?" he teased. "Of our great love? I'll speak my words of love to you until I die. But I've yet to hear a similar pronouncement from your lips."

"Why, that's not true. Haven't I proved my love time and time again for the past two years. You're just playing with me," she winked as he sat down in the chair next to hers.

"Proved your love, yes, beyond all measure, but I've never heard you say, 'I love you." He chuckled as he watched her try to hold her emotions in check, as she so often did, though with less success now than when he first met her. She was so delightful, especially when flustered.

"In fact," he leaned forward and tapped her softly on her chin, "If you are indeed in love with me, when did the great realization happen to you? I'm fairly certain that I loved you within a few days after we met. But, Wild Wife, do you remember when love came to you? If you do, you've forgotten to tell me. I wish some of your wildness went into the words that come out of your mouth."

"Ha!" she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "You certainly have shown fondness for my mouth, for all that it might not have said the wild words that you seek!" But then she withdrew her hand and rested it on her midsection. She thought about the events planned for the next few days, her slow dread of attending them, and wondered if she had always been this way, wanting to avoid matters.

Eowyn's eyes traveled over the horizon beyond their gardens and farmlands. She swallowed, hesitated, then began again, trying to put tomorrow's eventuality out of her mind.

"Do you recall, not long after the war? I stayed with you in Minas Tirith, and there came messenger after messenger from my brother. He wanted me to attend him at the various ceremonies after the Fall of Sauron. But I didn't want to go.”

"How could I not remember that," Faramir said, enjoying the drink as he studied his wife's face, now thoughtful rather than piqued. "Every day you turned away another messenger. It disturbed me greatly then, but now, looking back, it was really funny."

"Yes, and what a pest Eomer was," Eowyn laughed softly. "But at the time, I did everything I could to avoid going to him. It would mean acknowledging the way I really felt."

"And that's when you realized you loved me?"

She lowered her gaze to her hands, which were tapping slightly on her belly, as if in an attempt to communicate with the child in her womb. The words were difficult: "That is when I realized that avoiding my feelings was causing me much pain." She took a long look at her husband, delighting in his not quite perfect features, the large nose and gentle, small mouth that seemed so incongruous in a tough, sternly handsome face. Years later, there were moments when the look of him still made her grab a slight intake of breath, as he did, right from the beginning.

Eowyn settled in her chair. She had but a few hours left before the journey. And now, finally, the words wanted to come out.

"After the death of my parents, life became so grim. I loved my uncle, my cousin Theodred, and was, as you know, very close to my brother. But day after day there came rumors of war. Every day tales of farms destroyed and people killed came to Meduseld. Men, women, children, our horses, our animals. The madness would not stop. My brother left with an eored while I was in my teens. My uncle was ever embroiled with defending our people. Theodred was his heir but Theoden also trained me in governance. But no one was paying much attention to my heart, even me. I trained for war, as was expected for a woman of my station. But I was not trained for love.

"I always knew that I would marry not for love but to strengthen my family's ties, either to a noble family of Rohan or to shore up an alliance with another country's rulers. I knew that I must save myself for my eventual husband."

“And so you did, after our own particular fashion," Faramir grinned like a pleased, comfortable cat. But he noted that she looked so forlorn. Why should talk of love today make her so sad?

She sighed, recalling how in her youth there was so little improper behavior on her part in regard to love, in comparison to what her much more experienced husband had confessed. "I kissed various boys among my people when I was young, but the years went by, and the skirmishes went on. So many of the boys I kissed wound up dead on the battle field.

"My uncle and my brother forgot their duty to see me properly wed. And eventually I was in my 30s, still a maid, and apparently doomed to remain so. I thought my life would surely end soon, the casualty of another endless battle."

The sun was setting in the west. Eowyn's voice was strained. Faramir noticed that she was consuming more wine than he. He could tell that she was churning inside. Why on this night did she want to tell him of this part of her youth? They'd been married for two years and only now this was coming out. Simply because he wanted to know when she realized that she loved him?

And as he thought this, he noticed her look up and draw back suddenly. His features softened, as he realized that he'd been staring. He knew that his stare sometimes unnerved people, even his wife who knew him well.

Eowyn took a deep breath. She felt pressed, pressed for time. She thought of the King and his Queen who had now returned after more than a year's absence. But then she continued.

"When Grima became Theoden's councilor, I could see my uncle deteriorate before my eyes. And I could feel Grima's eyes on me, lecher that he was. I always carried a knife concealed in a pocket in my sleeve. But he never did more than touch my cheek now and then and give me rude looks."

"I trained for battle, as was my duty, and became adept, far more adept than many men despite my sex. By that time Theoden was in his dotage. Grima wouldn't grant my request to join an eored and defend our people. Though they had different motives, in that one thing did Grima and my brother agree."

"Every night I'd go to sleep, thirsting for battle or for love or for both. Neither was to be. So I'd battle my disappointment by dreaming of a suitable lover, who would save my country and make me a husband." Eowyn was overcome, remembering how desperate her situation was. She felt Faramir's intense scrutiny though she did not look at him. The heat of his eyes was the ever-present reminder that her husband still had the ability, to a degree, to perceive other's feelings. Maybe that was why she had never felt the need to tell him that she loved him. Words weren't necessary.

"And who was the dream lover, I wonder?" he said, suddenly feeling apprehensive.

"Oh, no one I had ever known or seen. I imagined that my love would be a Numenorean, right out of the tales in our songs, which must have come down to us when we had more contact with Gondor."

"Ah ha," he brightened. She had wanted a Numenorean. That was good.

"Most nights, I would lie down and think of this man. I could picture him, his pale eyes, black hair, and a thick black beard. And handsome beyond belief." A stricken look came across her husband's face, the type of melancholy that seemed to overwhelm him when they first met.

Eowyn reached over and stroked Faramir's beard. It was soft, red, trimmed close to his face, and always clean, at her insistence.

"I had yet to seen a descendent of Numenor then," she continued. "Such a man seemed so exotic, so far from anyone I, who had never left the borders of Rohan, would ever meet. To think that soon I'd make friends with a dwarf, an elf, and some hobbits. And as you've seen, I am considered tall by my people. So I dreamed my imaginary love to be much taller than anyone I had ever known."

"When Lord Aragorn first came to our land, he seemed so different from anyone I had ever met. He was from the North by his accent. I suspected he was a Numenorean. We all did, in fact," she continued stroking her husband's beard for fear he might become too steeped in thought, too withdrawn.

He rested his head in her hand. "I'm taller than the King and your brother, if that counts," he said defensively.

She rose slowly from her chair. The sun had gone down, and now the grounds keepers were lighting torches in the garden. Eowyn carefully sat on the ground before her husband's chair and settled her body between his knees. She loved his long legs. It was so comfortable sitting here on the grass. Ah, but at some point she must get up and round up the items that her maid servant had packed for her. But for now she had resolved to tell Faramir...

"Aragorn held me while I watched Gandalf cure my uncle. It was unbelievable. I hadn't seen him as I came in and he just grabbed me," She felt Faramir's legs tense against her shoulders.

"He held you!" he sat up. She was describing the man who was his superior, his king. The man with whom he'd been having long policy discussions during the past two weeks. He had much respect for Elessar, even though he'd known the story of Eowyn's infatuation since those first few days in the Houses of Healing. However, Faramir had no idea that the king had ever held his beloved Eowyn, “And you thought it was unbelievable.”

"It was more like Aragorn restrained me from reaching my uncle, who Gandalf was about to transform back into the whole warrior king that I knew and loved. Theoden's transformation was amazing,” Eowyn quickly clarified, surprised but aware of her husband's distress. “I didn't think much of Aragorn's behavior at the time. I didn't feel anything for him at first. It was not until we evacuated Edoras that I realized that he was, indeed, the man of my dreams."

Faramir was getting increasingly uncomfortable. It was dark now. They should be getting ready. He had promised they'd ride to nearby Minas Tirith after the evening meal.

"Ow," Eowyn squirmed, tapping his knee. "You do not know your own strength. Husband, you wanted to know when I first loved so I must tell you now, now that I am fairly sure when that actually happened."

His legs slacked. He leaned over and started removing the pins from her hair. Yellow strands swooped down about her back as she spoke of the King of reunited Arnor and Gondor. Like his father and the proud line of Hurin before him, Faramir now was the Steward of this king--and, as it happens, the first man in Gondor while the king was in the Northern lands.

"Aragorn did not keep secret that he was betrothed," Eowyn continued. "At first I was devastated until he then said that he had ended the engagement. That the woman, our Queen Arwen, was actually an elven woman who was leaving the shores of Middle Earth with her people. I thought then, perhaps I would have a chance with this intriguing man. But I could tell that he would miss Arwen through the rest of his life.

"We of Rohan do not have powers to beseech for guidance and help, as you do with your Valar. So I lay in my bed each night after I met Aragorn and wished for that elf woman to indeed leave. When I heard later that she had not left and was going to stay and wait for Aragorn to become king, I wished her dead. My uncle told me that Arwen had a grave illness, and so I wished her dead. I had never seen her, had no idea of her, but I wished she would die. I have killed men and orcs and that horrifying Witch King. But I never wished death on anyone, not even Saruman, until I learned I had a rival named Arwen"

She buried her head in her hands. "I am so ashamed now. I can't bear to be in her presence."

"But we have to see her," Faramir said, as he slowly stood up and stepped around her. She was shocked at the grave look on his face.

Eowyn got to her feet awkwardly, feeling the clumsiness of her pregnancy, "I am ashamed because now I understand how they felt. And now I understand how she felt with her love for Aragorn."

Faramir turned on his heel and started toward their manor house, then paused and turned to her. "The King is back now. And he has been asking for you to attend him personally. Perhaps it's time for us to get ready to leave."

Eowyn cried after him, but he had already gone inside. "I now understand Arwen's love for Aragorn because it must be the same as the love I feel for you." There. She said it, but he was gone and she was talking to herself. For such an intelligent and well-educated man, his confounded sensitivity was getting the best of him. He was acting, well, thick.

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Author's Note

Regarding my characterizations of Faramir, Eowyn , and characters to come who were depicted in the LOTR films:

Because "Avoidance" stems from Movie Verse, I try my best to depict all Tolkien characters who were cast in the films as you would have seen them in the theater or on DVD. Thus Faramir is a red-head with a large nose and a certain amount of guilt about his initial treatment of one Frodo Baggins. And Eowyn is no longer a relatively young maid of 24. She is the same age as Miranda Otto was when the LOTR films were shot-33 years old. I made this conscious decision because I thought Eowyn's more mature age would give her interesting issues that a younger Eowyn wouldn't have.

In the remaining chapters are also book-only characters. I have tried to depict them with utmost regard to Tolkien canon. I hope you enjoy the remainder of "Avoidance."