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. I apologize for the huge gap between this chapter and the last. Real life and lack of inspiration are to blame. I hope to be much faster in turning out the final chapters of "Avoidance." The story has not had a Beta review so my apologies for any typos and mispellings.

Chapter 20: What Faramir Was Avoiding

"They look magnificent, don't they," Aragorn sighed and slipped his hand over Faramir's shoulder, guiding him to a finely carved, oval-shaped table. Faramir watched his wife disappear behind a large door way, arm and arm with the High Queen. How does she really feel? he wondered. Any moment now, the Queen and the Ladies of the nobility will present her with the surprise."

"Queen Arwen is a lovely and gracious elleth," Faramir said as he sat beside the table. He wondered how appropriate it was to compliment his liege lord's consort. "I hope that Eowyn can help her. Legolas taught Eowyn some elven remedies for common ailments to add to our ever-growing pharmacy at Emyn Arnen. One of these might help the Queen."

Aragorn grinned and gestured to a servant for a pitcher of ale. He poured a mug for Faramir and then for himself. "Next year our lives will be so different," he raised his mug and smiled at Faramir. "This year we have wives with female complaints."

"Aye, my liege," Faramir laughed and tapped his mug against the king's. Next year their houses would ring with the sound of sobbing heirs. Faramir looked forward to it. Then he sensed a deep gravity creeping over the king. He very carefully looked into Aragorn's eyes and saw such a sadness.

"I am glad that Eowyn has finally consented to a private audience with Arwen. I wish she saw fit to meet with me occasionally," the king said wistfully. "I have a great deal of medicinal knowledge from my years at Rivendell, some of which I'm sure can be practiced by a mortal other than a king. This knowledge will be lost soon, for Rivendell empties of more folk every day. Already people speak of your wife's healing powers, especially her potions. I would like to impart this wisdom to Eowyn."

"She is a skillful apothecary," Faramir agreed. "Narmar already complains about losing her help to our child."

"I don't understand her reluctance to see me outside of state occasions," Aragorn said and sank back into his chair.

A knot formed in Faramir's stomach. Why his wife avoided her liege lord and former friend was clearly at the bottom of their recent problems. Yet there was an uncertainty that had plagued Faramir far longer. Would it do to ask the king the question that had bothered his Steward for three years? Faramir drew a breath. Now that the court was in residence for the next nine months, he must clear up his own discomfort with the king before it rent a hole in his marriage.

"My liege, you seem quite happy now," Faramir began slowly.

"I am. Happier than I ever expected to be in my life. There still is much to do to order the lands of Gondor and Arnor, as you know. Arwen and I both are saddened by the departure of her kin from Middle Earth. Nevertheless, it is a great joy and a sense of relief to realize that the peace we fought so long to achieve is a reality."

"Forgive my boldness, then, my liege. I wonder," Faramir said quietly, "did you once consider marrying Eowyn?"

************************************************************************

The procession marched slowly up the steep road from the fifth to the sixth circle of Minas Tirith. About 40 paces above him on the slope, Faramir could see the five heralds who led the parade blasting a joyous fanfare on their silver horns. Their stirring notes served a dual purpose: to announce the imminent arrival of important personages and to order anyone in the street to clear the way. Between Faramir and the heralds rode Peregrin, son of Paladin, on a shaggy grey pony magnificently adorned in the black and silver livery of the Stewards of Gondor. Though he was attired in the uniform and mail of the Tower Guard, this day Pippin served as Steward's standard bearer.

"Prince of the Perianath!" some in the crowd called out. Faramir wished he could see the look on Pippin's face when he heard their calls. The halfling's back lifted, and his arm, bearing the heavy staff and colors, did seem to rise higher at each adoring comment. Pippin is, by birth, a prince among his kind, Faramir reminded himself, for all that the halfling's diminutive size and carefree air made Gondorians take him less seriously.

What a special moment this must be for Pippin, Faramir thought. He's escorting his beloved friends in a procession that gives them great honor. It is an important moment for me, as well, Faramir thought. One I never expected to see. The halflings who had made the fateful quest into Mordor now entered Minas Tirith after succeeding beyond anyone's hope. The little entourage was the first of many parades scheduled to welcome important guests expected for the Coronation ten days hence. Faramir doubted that any subsequent arrival processions could fill him with the same joy as this one--not even the return of Imrahil and his family, due to arrive tomorrow or the next day.

Jolly, Faramir's favorite riding mare, pranced and tossed her head when he pulled her up beside the matched pair of bays that drew the Steward's carriage. They neared the Houses of Healing, soon to become Frodo and Samwise's lodgings until Narmar completed a thorough physical examination of them. Faramir noticed how Sam craned his head to better see the buildings and gardens on either side of the street. Frodo was hidden from view behind Calem, the carriage driver.

A portentious blast from the heralds echoed against the fine buildings of the sixth circle. They halted and blocked the street. The Steward's carriage, followed by a double column of 20 mounted Tower Guardsmen, drew up beside the heralds at the broad entrance of the Houses of Healing. A considerable crowd had gathered to watch the proceedings. Faramir dismounted Jolly, handing her reins to one of the guardsmen, and then he stepped up to assist the halflings from the carriage. Sam ignored the offered hand, but Frodo let Faramir half-lift him from the carriage onto the street. Clearly, the ringbearer was weak and not fully recovered. Faramir shivered slightly at the sight of the halfling's bandaged hand.

"The ringbearers, Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee!" one of the heralds announced.

Faramir noted how Frodo watched the crowd briefly, then turned away. "It will take me awhile to get used to the size of the people and the buildings," Frodo confessed. "Everything is so big." His large blue eyes seemed troubled; his face was tanned a deep brown that Faramir did not remember from their previous encounter. And yet that skin appeared transparent, as if a soft candle gleamed beneath it.

Samwise appeared less cowed by his surroundings. He studied the crowd with as much interest as the crowd studied him. Faramir placed his hands on Sam's shoulders. "Do the trees and shrubs of the city measure up to your standards of health and beauty, Master Gamgee?" Faramir teased. Pippin dismounted his pony and joined them.

"I'd like to give them a closer look before I answer," Sam countered. "Most seem quite different from our greenery in the Shire."

"Come, Pippin, let's bring them in," Faramir ordered gently. He shuttled his guests toward the door, where she waited, glorious and glowing in her humble healer's gown and veil protecting her hair. For that mere moment, nothing else mattered to Faramir than his need to stare at Eowyn. He vaguely heard Pippin tell his fellow halflings, "We've set up rooms for you for the next day or so. The medical people need to have a look at you, so to speak. The accommodations are plain but cozy, sort of. Then, if the Warden says you're okay, you can move to the Steward's House. That's where we're going to put Aragorn and Gandalf."

Faramir caught Eowyn's hand swiftly as he walked into the main lobby, ahead of the halflings. "This is Lady Eowyn of Rohan," Faramir indicated proudly. "Master Samwise, we've got a fine garden behind the main buildings. Eowyn maintains an herb garden within it and could tell you more about the plants than I." He said to Eowyn, "Can you give Sam a tour of the garden while Pippin and I bring Frodo to the Warden?"

"She's Lord Faramir's lady love," Pippin whispered none to softly to Frodo as Eowyn and Sam disappeared down the stairs.

"And how many others are you telling this to, Master Peregrin," Faramir glowered into Pippin's guileless eyes.

The halfling returned stare for stare, fully unrepentent, "It is no secret. Everyone talks about you."

"What are people saying?" Faramir stifled an urge to gasp. "No one outside this city has heard tales of the Steward and his lady. At least, I hope they haven't spread rumors linking the two of us."

Frodo chuckled softly, "Life has changed for you, too, Captain Faramir."

They climbed the stairs to the Men's quarters. Pippin scurried off to summon Narmar while Faramir and Frodo waited on the ornate wooden bench outside the main ward. Faramir could not help but study Frodo's face. He sensed the great loss the halfling felt, but also the enormous sense of relief.

"I never expected that I would see you again," Faramir said.

"Nor did I ever think I'd come to the White City your brother loved so much," Frodo smiled just barely. "As for you, you are Steward of Gondor, clean and kingly looking."

Faramir jolted slightly, but then he relaxed. "It is not my ambition to be a a king, let alone look like one," he sighed. "I am happy enough to meet you again in better times, and to apologize for whatever rough treatment you and Sam suffered at our hands."

"Boromir and I had an evil parting. That made it difficult for me to remember that he was basically a good man. I didn't learn until a few days ago that Boromir had died trying to save my cousins," Frodo 's wide eyes stared at Faramir, full of the candor they did not have at their first meeting. The halfling continued, "In the end, I understood your grief and knew that you had made a great sacrifice when you let Sam and I go." Frodo stroked his bound hand absently.

Faramir said. "My sacrifice seems small now, when I think about the evils that beset you and Sam."

Frodo shuddered, "While we walked through Mordor I thought I felt the eyes of others watching me from afar. The Dark Lord's eye always sought my mind. But throughout that time, I sensed that others watched me as well. I seldom knew whether I was awake or dreaming. In the middle of nightmares, I'd sense that you in particular were following me, keeping me from Sauron's probing."

"I tried to follow you in my dreams, though I don't know how I could have protected you much," Faramir admitted. "Many years ago Mithrandir tried to train me to use my farsight in that manner. Despite my father's disapproval, I've been marginally successful."

"I wouldn't say that," Frodo said gravely. "It gave me peace for a little while, to feel the support of others in the worse times. I didn't know that humans had such powers."

"The farsight of the Numenoreans sometimes is a blessing; usually it feels like a curse. I suspect that the Lady of the Golden Wood and possibly even Mithrandir used my sight to gain news of your journey. The Dark Lord protected his land from surveillence by high folk like Mithrandir. Evidently he never considered that I, the Steward's lesser son, laid low by the Lord of the Nazgul, had the ability to see into his land."

"So it seems," Frodo said. The tone of sadness in his voice was unmistakable.

"What will you do now that your journey is over?" Faramir asked.

The halfling considered this for a moment. Then he said, "I want to go home, eventually. But before that, I'd like to visit my Uncle Bilbo in Rivendell, if he still lives. And Lord Elrond. Maybe he can tell me why I feel like a bottle with all the milk gone."

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Eowyn and Sam sat at one of the ornate porcelain tables in the garden, enjoying steaming tea and soft conversation when Faramir joined them. "Up with you, Sammy," Faramir lifted him from the chair by the armpits. "The Warden is examining Frodo. Soon enough he'll want you. The Tower Guardsmen will take you to him." Eowyn discretely rose and stood calmly by Faramir's side until Sam disappeared into the library. Then she turned those jewel-like eyes on Faramir with a look that promised all those things he had to wait months for her to deliver.

He grabbed her hand and led her to the sheltered corner at the far north end of the garden, where blossoming fruit trees hung low over the bench built into the wall. Prying eyes were least likely to see them beneath the canopy of white flowers. In an instant Eowyn's lips were on his, silky soft in all her boldness. His mouth joined hers, responding joyfully but carefully. When he first kissed her, but a few days ago, she had seemed eager but a little shy. Fortunately, as they became comfortable with each other, shyness on both their parts melted away. Now Faramir deemed Eowyn infinitely more passionate and enthusiastic than he had ever expected from a woman with such a cool demeanor.

There were some moments in course of their short wooing that were perhaps too new for the lady in his arms. Yesterday, when his hands traveled down the sides of her body to form a nice cup for her bottom. Eowyn had not expected that. She pushed away swiftly at first, giving him a startled, though not offended look. This day, however, Eowyn moved against him so comfortably that Faramir was convinced that the woman had no understanding of the impact of her behavior. He grabbed her thick hair at the neck and swiftly traced kisses along her neckline, turning her pale skin a burning red. She gasped and tilted against him, losing her balance.

With an exasperated grin, Faramir caught her and staggered into a chair, pulling Eowyn onto his lap. One of his hands was caught between his thigh and her muscular but generous rump. He felt that lush muscle twitch for just a second and then settle comfortably into his upturned hand--until he cried out that her lovely bottom was squashing his hand.

"We cannot marry soon enough," he laughed as he repositioned the crushed hand on Eowyn's back. "I can't stand much more of this."

"Nor I," Eowyn said as she rested her head beneath his chin. "But I cannot marry without a large ceremony. I owe it to my brother and my people."

"Then go off to Eomer King and tell him of your wishes," Faramir straightened his back.

"Not yet," Eowyn said. Faramir could feel her muscles tighten against him. She continued, "I would wait until after the Coronation."

"Do you fear Eomer would stop our marriage?"

"He wouldn't," Eowyn lifted her chin. "He and I love each other. I hope that he would respect my wishes. He might protest about not being involved in my choice of husband. That's his nature. I'm not ready to speak to him about it face-to-face."

"Then why don't we make our betrothal formal as soon as possible before you speak to Eomer," Faramir suggested. "That gives us an advantage in the nuptial negotiations."

"What?" Eowyn knitted her brows. "You are speaking in puzzles again."

"Uh, well...in Gondor when two people intend to marry, they sign a contract of betrothal. It's a legal document, drawn up by an advocate and signed by both the man and the woman. The contract is then posted on the public bulletin boards throughout the couple's town or city--in our case Minas Tirith. It is a very important document, particularly for an arranged marriage where the woman has chosen from among several suitors. No jilted suitor or angry relative can legally make trouble for a couple who has signed a document of betrothal.

"My uncle arrives this evening or tomorrow with his family. My cousin Lothiriel is an advocate's assistant. ** She can draw up the contract for us." Then he whispered into her ear, "I hope you will sign it." Eowyn drew her hand across the side of his face and nodded softly.

"After that," Faramir continued, "the man gives the woman a token of his intent to marry her."

"Such as?"

He chuckled slightly, "A ring with as extravagant a gemstone as the poor man can afford."

"Does it have any power?" Eowyn teased.

"It tells everyone that the woman is married," Faramir bounced her on his knee.

In response, Eowyn slid off his lap, "The men of the Mark have a similar custom. The groom gives his intended an extravagant necklace for her dowry. That way, if he dies or abandons her, she can sell her necklace for a temporary income."

"Then you shall have a ring and a proper Rohirric fancy necklace!" Faramir hugged her enthusiastically. "Do the Rohirrim have any customs like ours for announcing a betrothal?"

"Not exactly," Eowyn said. "We have no formal contracts. However, the groom must give the bride's family suitable gifts to pay the bride price."

"Bride price? How much does a man pay for brides these days in Rohan?"

"You know what I speak of! The bride's parents expect a large gift from the prospective groom for her bride's price. The parents do not consent to the marriage unless the groom has given them a gift that is suitable compensation for the loss of their daughter. It's also proof of the groom's ability to provide for the bride and their offspring."

"Reasonable enough," Faramir said and then chuckled, "So, am I to present your brother with your weight in gold? Fortunately you are light. Another bride would empty the coffers of the House of Hurin."

Eowyn sniffed, "Families in Rohan don't expect money for the bride price. They expect tangible goods. And animals. Fine horses always work."

"Alas for the Steward of Gondor, then, for the horses of the Mark far outshine our home grown variety," he grabbed Eowyn and pulled her toward him.

"Land!" she squealed. "Aren't I worth large tracks of land?"

"What?" Faramir kissed her forehead, "Should I cede North Ithilien to your brother to get him to approve our marriage. In ten days, Gondorian land won't be mine to parcel out. So we are at an impasse in the matter of your bride price."

She rested her head in the crook of his shoulder, "I trust you will think of something special. I am the first lady of Rohan. Surely I am worth something"

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"Quick! Shut the door behind you," Eowyn whispered as she pulled Ioreth into the pharmacy.

"Why all the urgency?" Ioreth huffed and plopped herself in the chair beside the broad work table.

"Dame Ioreth, you are my friend. I need your medical advice and especially your silence. Do not to go to Narmar if you can't answer my question." Eowyn sat on the table, her shoulders slumped in distress. Was she asking for trouble by taking Ioreth into her confidence?

"I'm a wealth of medical advice, dearie, after all the years I've spent working in this fine institution," Ioreth gleefully tapped Eowyn's knee.

Eowyn did not appreciate the Head Nurse's unfailing good humor at the moment. She leaned in to Ioreth and said, "I am afraid I am too old to have children. Do you know if a potion exists for..."

"For what? To help you have children?" Ioreth winked. "And who might you be having children with?"

"You know these shelves almost as well as Narmar," Eowyn ignored her. "Certainly there must be something here ..."

"See here, Eowyn, I had my youngest daughter Gloredhel when I was near to 40, years older than you are. And ten years after Glory's brother, too."

Eowyn slid off the table top, somewhat relieved. If her marriage was delayed by several years at Eomer's insistence, she still could have a child. "Life must have been very difficult for you," she said, "with your husband gone so long that you went ten years between children"

Ioreth laughed robustly as she said, "Oh no, my husband retired by the time I was 35. They don't keep 'em in the Rangers past their 40th birthday. The duty is too dangerous. We had many good years together after his retirement. I did not have children for ten years because I took tincture of mare's milk every month to prevent a child from quickening in the womb. Don't tell me no such potions are available in Rohan? Mithrandir doesn't approve of such potions, I can tell you. He blames them for the shrinking population in Gondor. I blame constant war for the shrinking population."

"Dame Ioreth, I don't know if women in Rohan tried to limit their number of babies! I was raised by men and lived in the company of men except for our female servants. I had no mother or close female relative to advise me about matters of childbirth."

"Tut tut, well I and the nurses are here for you-your family in Minas Tirith," Ioreth stood up and gave Eowyn a motherly hug. "You'll find the recipe in your "Wise Women of Gondor" volumes, but we always keep tincture of mares' milk here, as well. It's a very common remedy, which we actually sell for a small fee."

A small fire was lit in Eowyn's brain. Ioreth had unwittingly given her the perfect vehicle for making her engagement official in ways understood by everyone in Rohan,
including her brother.

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The servants announced the arrival of the guests for Arwen's reception. Aragorn waved them away. His face was drawn, as though remembering a difficult time in the past.

"I admired Eowyn then as I do now," Aragorn said, in that low voice he seemed to reserve for matters of great weight. "I felt then that she would make a good friend for me and a good wife for a very lucky man. Shortly after we met, she made it clear that she was in love with me. "

Faramir blanched but remained silent.

"I have high regard for her, but I never was in love with her," Aragorn looked up candidly. "My heart belonged to the Evenstar, then as now. But to answer your question, when we rested on the Fields at Cormallen, I listened to Eomer's request that I marry his sister. And yes, I did consider it. Eowyn loved me. She was a good choice for the wife of the King of Gondor and Arnor reunited. Many royal marriages have less than that as a foundation. But I could not marry Eowyn while there was a chance that Arwen yet lived. I could not bring myself to tell Eowyn of my decision. I should have called her to the Field of Cormallen; instead I avoided her. Now she avoids me.

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** I wrote a story called "Family Matters" that features Lothiriel as a legal assistant. You can find it in the Stories of Arda archive.