Chapter 19: What Eowyn Was Avoiding

AUTHOR'S NOTE

"Avoidance" began its life as movie verse with much respect paid to book canon. As it nears its conclusion, the story has grown into a personal merge of both book and film.

Since Tolkien wrote the love story of Faramir and Eowyn, many writers have given their own spin to the scene where Faramir begs Eowyn to marry him. I have always found Tolkien's dialogue rather one sided and wondered what Eowyn might think while Faramir plies her with flowery speech. I had hoped to see more equal time given to Eowyn in the film version of the marriage proposal. To my immense disappointment, Jackson famously avoided filming it. PJ therefore left a giant gap for those who write movie verse to fill.

My take on the famous scene also answers one of the two basic questions that have formed the main themes of "Avoidance." I like to imagine Jackson's actors playing the parts, but I encourage you, dear folks who have kept up with the story so far, to imagine your favorite form of Faramir and Eowyn as you read.

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The Steward's carriage arrived at the Citadel, lumbered past the Tower of Echthelion, and then reeled around the corner to the back of the Great Hall.

"Where are we going?" Eowyn asked.

Formal celebrations and receptions usually took place in the Great Hall or on its broad steps. Today, however the carriage hurtled forward, rounded a corner, and came to rest at the rear entrance to the Great Hall. A new addition to the ancient building provided reception rooms for the king and queen. The wood, and, indeed, the architects of the annex, were from the land of Rivendell.

"They tailored their designs to suit our environment here in the South," Imrahil had told her a month and more ago, when the renovation was complete. He was the minister in charge of buildings and other public works in the new government. And a fine job Imrahil had done in coordination with the Elven architects, Eowyn concluded as she entered the building on Faramir's arm. The annex entrance included a vaulted ceiling with lightly colored murals that drew your eyes upward.

Eowyn craned her head up to view the elegant trajectory of the arched beams and the delicate patterns painted in gold leaf on the ceiling between the beams. "The Prince and Princess of Ithilien," a herald announced as they entered the annex. Eowyn lowered her head and almost lost her balance. Ahead of them, Aragorn, Arathorn's son, and Arwen, Elrond's daughter, approached quite informally.

Faramir's steadying hand found Eowyn's forearm. The royal pair were finely dressed, she noted, but wore no crowns or other symbols of office. As the king neared, Faramir raised his right hand in a fist to his chest and nodded briefly. Eowyn turned toward the glowing Evenstar and nodded politely.

Aragorn smiled and offered his hand to Faramir. Her husband grinned the biggest grin a small-mouthed man might hope to achieve and shook the King's hand in response. Then the two grabbed each other in a brotherly hug. Clearly their relationship had bloomed beyond collegiality into an easy friendship.

Queen Arwen stood apart, warm and serene. Her clear eyes regarded Eowyn, even as their husbands comfortably welcomed one another. Like Eowyn, the queen had chosen this day to dress in the style of Gondor. Her low cut gown was gathered just below her full breasts to flow about her tall body. Arwen Evenstar's heavy brocade gown billowed around her form with more volume even than Eowyn's unadorned lilac silk.

"Princess Eowyn, I've wanted to speak to you in more comfortable circumstances than the formal events where we have met previously," Arwen began. Her voice was lilting and melodious, giving Eowyn a sense of ease that tempered her deep discomfort.

"Come, I would show you the new Queen's chamber, which will be unveiled formally a little later," Arwen continued. "We can talk for a moment before the others arrive." She slipped her hand into the crook of Eowyn's arm, the gesture of a sister or best friend, not one's sovereign.

The queen led Eowyn through an arched doorway into an airy corner room. Enormous windows on two of the walls let in the warm May sun. Graceful chairs upholstered in silvery fabric were scattered throughout. Arwen sat and motioned for Eowyn to join her. She leaned forward as she said, "Congratulations and best wishes for an easy birth and a healthy child. When is your baby due?"

"I'm nearly six months along," Eowyn felt her cheeks burn as she responded.

"How has your health been these past few months?" Arwen asked. Her translucent complexion colored just slightly at the top of her high cheekbones.

The beautiful chair that Arwen offered was wide and comfortable, but Eowyn still squirmed a bit before she answered, "I had some sickness during the first two months, but that has given way to good health. I have tried to remain active throughout my pregnancy and eat the proper foods, though I admit a constant craving for ice from Mindolluin, flavored with sugared raspberry juice."

"And we shall have that in a few minutes," Arwen smiled graciously. "But first, well, I have a troubling matter to discuss with you. I spoke earlier to the Warden and the Chief Nurse of the Houses of Healing. My body, too, is changing. They recommended your services as an herbalist ..."

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"I love you, Eowyn. Do you not love me or will you not?"

Faramir's hand sat uneasily on her right shoulder. His body was scarcely an arm's length from hers. Her hand lightly rested on top of his hand and long fingers. She could feel Faramir's breath on her forehead as he spoke. He who chose flowering words to mask his insecurity now demanded plain speaking from her. Eowyn did not need to look at his face to feel the intense blue eyes probing. And pleading.

Trying to compose her thoughts, Eowyn turned away and looked out over the landscape of Minas Tirith. The brilliant sun gleamed across the city and turned the great river into a silver ribbon. Gulping slightly, Eowyn said, "When we first met, I wished to be loved by another." Before she could draw breath, Faramir's hand was gone from her shoulder.

After an uncomfortable pause, Faramir said, "I know. You were quite open about your feelings for the Lord Aragorn. You admired him--and who wouldn't admire such a lord among men, the greatest that now is. Yet often when you spoke of him, I heard words such as a young soldier might speak about a revered captain."

Spoken like a true military man! Eowyn wanted to scoff but restrained herself, "Would a young soldier have the same feelings as an unmarried woman whose life has known nothing but war and little of hope?" She averted her eyes. How difficult it was to speak without bitterness.

"Could I not help but long for a hero? And one day there he came unbidden, from over the great plain of Rohan. How could I not love such a hero, Faramir? A hero that my King and brother as well as myself thought my perfect mate. Since Mordor fell, I studied and worked beside Narmar and pondered what my response would be, should Aragorn change his mind and decide it was in the best interest of both our lands for us to marry."

"And you heard nothing," Faramir's voice was sad, barely audible. "Here, then, is the matter that has troubled you so. Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart. Look at me, Eowyn."

Her gaze was long and considering at the man who stood so close by. The midday sun lit his now familiar broad cheekbones and brow, and put a burnished red glint into his wavy hair. Faramir's far-seeing eyes that regardless never quite grasped everything about her were gentle as they regarded her.

Eowyn said, "I need no one's pity. In the end, I no longer felt rejected by Aragorn. No, he saved me from having to tell him what I realized these past few weeks. I prefer a solitary future as a healer than a political marriage to a man who respected but did not love me."

Faramir drew a hand through his hair and regarded her in confusion.

"You asked if I was torn because I must choose between two," Eowyn continued. "Your Uncle Imrahil it was who helped me to see the truth of the matter. I felt rejected, but not by the hero on some field far away. I felt rejected by the one I counted as my closest friend. He promised to visit, but save for a few spare moments, he stayed away. Now here he stands, speaking words of love."

Faramir seemed stunned. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but instead swayed a little until his side brushed against her. He drew away quickly, as though remembering to be polite. Then he drew a deep breath and said, "I truly thought you wished to become Aragorn's queen. I thought I understood the meaning behind the messages I got from your brother and from Pippin's innocent gossip. To me they hinted that Eomer hoped to initiate a formal courtship between Aragorn and yourself. I wondered if this signified that Elessar's lady had passed over sea or had died.

"I admit that I avoided you because I did not wish to influence your feelings for Aragorn or your brother's desire to find you a suitable match. Nor did I want press you to change your mind in my favor. I have always known that were you without sorrow, fear, or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, I still would love you."

Eowyn said gravely, "I have no desire to be queen, for all that my uncle begged me to reign in Rohan in his stead."

"Nor will I ever be a king," Faramir suddenly grinned. "I am proud and content to be Steward of this land, even if it be for but a few weeks more. Yet I would marry you, Lady of Rohan, if that is your desire. "

"And if I agree, what will the people of Gondor think? I have already been a favorite topic of their conversation." Eowyn teased and impulsively reached for Faramir's hand. "Would you have them say of you, 'there goes the lord who tamed a wild shield maiden of the North! Was there no woman of the race of Numenor worthy of his affection?'"

Faramir carefully took Eowyn's left hand and held her at arm's length. His eyes twinkled as he said, "In this city every twelve year old girl wants to be you and every youth wants to marry you. Were we to marry, I guarantee that a generation of boys will envy me while you are busy training their sisters in the warrior arts of the shield maidens."

"Then I will marry not for political reasons, or for duty, or to honor my brother's choice of a spouse for me. I will marry you Faramir, Steward of Gondor, simply because you are my choice."

Carefully sliding his arm around her waist, Faramir leaned forward slightly and touched his forehead to Eowyn's. "Spoken plainly," he said and then suddenly kissed her.

His kiss was crisp, quick, promising much but giving little. He drew his head away slightly and teased, "Forgive my boldness, Lady. Many a year has passed since I courted, ahem, a virgin." Then he blushed as though realizing that his words might not be well taken.

Eowyn reached up and ran her finger just slightly along Faramir's jaw line. His face glowed and his eyes seemed at peace for the first time since she had known him. Her words tumbled out, "I appreciate boldness."

It mattered not who started the next kiss and the many that followed. Their kisses were languid and lingering. The two held each other at the garden wall, with all of Minas Tirith and the Pelennor Fields spread out before them. For Eowyn, the very vastness of the landscape dissolved into a small space, where only she and Faramir existed, with their lips and bodies pressing against each other. This is all that I ask for, she thought when she actually thought at all.

"Well done, well done!!" She felt Faramir look up, but Eowyn did not want the outside world to invade her joy. She rested her head on Faramir's chest, despite the loud revelation that Dame Ioreth had been watching their erstwhile intimate encounter with great delight.

Without warning, Faramir slipped one arm beneath her rump. "Oh how I have longed to do this," he whispered in her ear as he lifted her.

Eowyn squealed in surprise and a little pain from her recovering arm as Faramir swung her round so that she could fully see Ioreth and Narmar. They stood between the arches of the second story portico, watching her and Faramir's romantic idyll. Narmar glowered in disapproval but Ioreth seemed totally delighted.

As Eowyn clung desperately to his shoulders to keep from falling, Faramir shouted to Narmar and perhaps the whole world, "Here is the Lady Eowyn, and now she is healed!"

"Excellent. My day is made for the next year!" Ioreth cheered though Narmar refused to change his forbidding expression.

Eowyn starred at them for a moment and then yelled, "Behold dear Warden my first patient, and how he is now strong."

"And may he always be strong for you, Dearie!" Ioreth cheered.

"Dame Ioreth, can't you speak decorously, even if the Steward and the Lady have forgotten proper behavior." Narmar grumbled. "Though I admit that it warms my heart to see that you two have recognized what the rest of us have noticed for weeks."

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Faramir carefully let Eowyn slip downward. She rested against him. The frost in her being had melted, leaving her relaxed and compliant. Or so she seemed at this particular time, Faramir thought as his lips brushed her forehead. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Marod of the Tower Guard at the entrance to the Library. That made three at least who had seen his proposal to the lady.

"Come, Eowyn," he grabbed her hand. "We've already given them enough to talk about, at least until the Coronation."

He led her to a concrete bench beneath the vast balcony where they might have some semblance of privacy. Faramir sat on the cold bench and pulled Eowyn onto his lap. Her face lit up as she wrapped one arm his neck and rested her other hand along his cheek. What delicate features she had--a gentle profile and sweet lips. Yet as she sat on him, he marked that her body was weightier than its slim appearance implied. Beneath her graceful gown was a strong, well-muscled body, he suspected, and immediately longed to find out.

He brushed a lock of her glorious hair out of her face. "Unlike you I must work today," Faramir said regretfully. Eowyn's response was to kiss him with an insistence that surprised him. "Bold virgin," he mumbled into her lips before giving them the attention they demanded.

Moments later, Eowyn caught her breath and said, "Does the heart follow where the body leads?"

"Lady, it is now you that speaks in riddles," Faramir laughed and jostled her on his knees. "I must get up, wild woman. Eru only knows whether the guards will keep their oath of secrecy in regard to the Steward's private life! I have an assistant, a page, and a cat waiting for me in the White Tower."

Now she sat beside him and leaned against him. "You won't forget me again and leave me alone to wonder why you haven't returned?" she asked, her cobalt blue eyes full of concern.

"You are unforgettable," Faramir kissed Eowyn's brow and then rose slowly. "I will be at your dormitory this evening promptly for dinner. There is an excellent pub but a few blocks down the street."

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"I knew that I was becoming human shortly after I returned from the Grey Havens, after deciding not to sail," Queen Arwen spoke softly and gazed about her. No one else, not even her attendants, were in the reception hall, yet Arwen still seemed to fear an eavesdropper. Eowyn nodded her head intently as the queen continued:

"My menses returned but a day or two later. You must understand, Princess Eowyn, that an elleth has her courses but once a year. This is only time in the year when she can become pregnant. My yearly cycle has always been in the month of January. Then suddenly in March of that fateful year, I bled again, and with such pain and distress to the stomach as I had never experienced. My father thought I was dying, for my agony was great, at first. But as all human females know, the pain only lasted a day or two. To this day it comes back and troubles me every month, more so evidently than most human females that I have spoken with in Gondor."

"That is because the Gondorian women have a wonderful, pain relieving tea for the menses that was handed down to them from the wise women of Numenor," Eowyn said with a great sense of relief. "I can gather some leaves and prepare a sachet for you. I always keep them in storage in the apothecary of the Houses of Healing."

"I appreciate that, my dear Eowyn," Arwen said softly. "But there is more to ask. My courses ceased two months ago. The healers, my own husband, and I myself know that I am pregnant. Every morning I have the predictable sickness..."

"Congratulations, my queen," Eowyn grinned. "And I have excellent herbs for that, as well. They work. I have used them myself."

Could this conversation really be between myself and the woman whose name once provoked me into great waves of jealousy? Eowyn wondered briefly as she and Arwen continued their chat. Despite her lofty position, she already acts as my friend.

A blare of trumpets interrupted their conversation. The heralds shouted the announcement, "The Ladies of the Court and Honored Guests are here to celebrate the upcoming birth of a child to the Princess and Prince of Ithilien!!"

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END NOTE:

The onset of her monthly periods as the signal that Arwen had become human is purely my invention. I beg your indulgence in this matter.