Author's notes: The events in the first two scenes occur the morning after Faramir and Eowyn's wedding, the others later on (the final one almost a month after the wedding)

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When morning came, the Lady of Ithilien awoke in a soft bed, her limbs light and rested, and she breathed peaceful and content. But then she felt a body lie warm beneath her own and stifled a gasp of fright; her breathing eased once more when at last she knew the room she was in, and the man holding her in his arms. And as she calmed she gazed upon her husband from where her head had settled at his shoulder; and she was glad to see him at peace, and his face unlined. But then she saw her fingers lie still and foreign upon his chest and shoulder; and with it she knew that though she did not fear his presence as to not stand it, for at least in reason she could say that he would not harm her, still his closeness made her awkward and shy.

Then gazing at his face in earnest, turned upon the pillows in sleep, she took his differences to mind, and thought him handsome in them; for he was darker than her kin, his hair flowing long and raven upon his shoulders; and though seeming as strong as the men of her own country, he was more slender built, which gave his bearing the grace that had taken her notice when first they had met. And lying by his side she thought of him, how he had seemed to her so many months ago – when he had come to her and to her lands, to settle his affairs of state, and, yes, to court her too; and further ago still, when first she had gone to him to plead for her release, and for her death.

And it seemed strange to her that the same man who had then made her see her hurt for what it was now held her close, and she could feel his heartbeat with her hand. That man of then, and the one who had spoken to her the night before and suffered in his dreams seemed different men to her – for time had made them so – although she knew them to be one; for their voice was the same, their words the same, and they had the same manner. And so, too, were his eyes, she thought, unchanged, holding much gentleness and care, and a wit as keen as none other before him.

And what she had known deep within herself she came to understand at last – that here was a great man to walk his path in life without faltering, and be kind to those who needed it and stern to those who deserved it; and that he was a good match.

And for once she nigh deemed herself fortunate to spend her life at his side; for there were many things that he would teach her, many ways in which she would be made better by living at his side; and remembering his words from long ago she agreed to give their future a fair chance and an open mind. Then as she strained to make her body ease, and turn soft in his arms, she hoped that time would see that she no longer be tense at his side – for as it was an offence to him as her husband, so too it was a threat to the lie they had to weave, the lie that they would strive to keep alight.

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When they awoke they were both silent and spoke naught to the other; but with a nod they offered greeting, then each went to their adjoining chambers to change their robes and prepare for the morning meal. To the dining chamber of the Steward’s apartments they went afterwards, the Lady Éowyn arriving sooner of the two. Then when her lord came in as well she left the window to join him at the table, where they both turned to face the west in silence, as was his custom.

Their meal was quiet at first, for what words they had to say were only for their ears, and some were there to wait upon them. But when at last the servants departed and they were left alone Éowyn looked up and spoke, her voice held even:

“My lord,” she said, “how are we to spend our time this day?”

“I know not. In truth, I have not made a plan of it, strange as it may seem. However we may wish, I gather, for I am excused from my duty to the City these seven days until we are both settled in our house here, and you are bound to naught for now.” Then he turned his eyes to the light outside and said: “The day is warm. What say you of riding outside the City, even to Emyn Arnen? For you have yet to try our own horses of Gondor and say your piece about them.”

“I should like that, my lord,” she said in a voice subdued. “But what of the days to come? Are we to ride out every morning for lack of things to occupy our time with? And what of the days when you are no longer free from your duties and must attend in counsel? How am I to pass my time here, or in Ithilien? What would my duties be?” she asked at last, and her voice lowered from the tone that it had risen to.

And looking back towards her Faramir saw her true question and the doubt in her eyes. “You would not be idle, if that is what you fear, for the troubles of the land shall be brought before you as well, if not only before you at times. Once Ithilien is settled the more, and the building of our home in Emyn Arnen is so that we may live within its walls, I may be away much of my time – Gondor will call for me, and so too will the valleys round what once was Minas Ithil; for, though much work has been done the year before to rid the place of the Dark One’s remains, foul things still cross it, and there will be no living there until it is cleared.” And his mien spoke both of eagerness and doubt; and with it Éowyn could see that he took pride in this duty that had been set upon him, and that he wondered how lightened an end he could bring to it. 

“There is a new land to be built,” said Faramir once more; “I would not have you merely watch and have no say in what is to be done. Greatly would it please me if you would come to see Ithilien as yours, and aid it in its growth.” And as he spoke his eyes turned lighter with some hope Éowyn could not dare to fathom, a hope tempered after a time. “Yet, I say again, there would be naught to bind you should you not wish it; neither will there be aught to hinder you from whatever you might wish to do. Should you wish to walk, the doors would be open; should you wish to wield a blade there would be swords to serve you in the practice ring; all horses are your own to ride, wherever you may wish to, although you should take caution where you stray, for Ithilien is still untamed in all.” Then her lord paused, and his eyes turned softer where they gazed into her own. “I would not cage you, my lady,” he said, “and your will is your own.” And she wept within, for no man had spoken thus to her, nor had one given her freedom so lightly; and she was shamed to have thought ill of him. Yet on her face she let naught show, but nodded at his words and said no more.

“As to your duties, Ithilien has had neither Lord nor Lady for many years; there are no duties set but those you choose to make yourself. Yet I would have your ear and counsel, my lady, for we, the both of us, have laboured to see our lands made whole; I would hope that together we could make this one the better as well.

“I have but one request of you,” Faramir said in the end, and her eyes turned to him, wary once more, and bothered for it. “We are to be friends, I think, if nothing more. And in the long years of our lives I would rather you speak my given name, and not a title. Would you not do so? And let me speak your name as well?”

“Of course,” she answered, and they both nodded for it, then turned back to their meal. And Faramir’s words played in her ears while they both ate, and she was grateful for them. For he had sought once more to ease her fears, as he had done the year before, the night before; a night she had prepared herself for as she would have for a battle. And she was humbled that he showed such patience; and that, where he had considered their life together and what it would entail, she had instead kept it far from her heart and mind.

And it came to her then, the reason why she had sought to dwell so little on the lord Faramir in the last months she had spent among her people; caution it had been that drove her. For she had learned that thoughts might lead to empty hopes, and she had wished to keep astray of them, and what they brought. Never again would Éowyn be drawn to care for shadows, she vowed, nor lose her heart in dreams. Better to keep her distance, and her guard, and a clear mind to find her place here where she had none written out yet.

Yet, as she thought this, a silent smile played at her lips; for even with her vow she knew there was one hope not to be conquered – the hope that time would do its duty, and that her wedded days would know more ease than sorrow; that she and her lord would not dwell on as they were then – strangers sharing a house, a room, and a life.

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Three days had passed since the Lady Éowyn and the Lord Faramir had wed, and in the Great Hall of Merethrond there were many who still rejoiced for their union. Fair and noble was the company that night, for there sat King Elessar and Queen Arwen – and on their right sat Éomer King of the Mark, with Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth at his side, and his sons and daughter by him; and on their left sat the Lord and Lady of Ithilien, next to then the Lord of Lossarnach; and many other high lords and ladies of the fiefdoms of the land graced the hall as well. And they were glad for the joining of so worthy a couple, and for the strengthening of their hope of yesteryear. For many hearts had lifted then, when the betrothal had been sounded, in joy for them, and confidence for the coming days.

Alone Éomer spoke little as he sat at table, settling instead to watch his sister as she smiled and talked with those sitting close by her; and he knew that already he missed her. For come morning he would make for home, and Éowyn would stay behind, left to her duties and her new life – as Lady of Ithilien and the Steward’s lady wife.

As he had stood at her side three days before, and listened as she spoke the words to bind her to another land and to the man who sat before him now, Éomer had understood at long last that his sister was lost to him. No longer would she be there to welcome his return; nor would the people of the Mark see their Lady stand tall upon the steps of Meduseld, hair and gown flowing with the winds, and scouring the distance. No longer was she theirs.

Indeed, the Eorlings had felt bereft when news came of the Lady Éowyn’s betrothal, for they were told her hand was fastened not in their lands, but where a new home would await her. And some had turned resentful towards the Men of the Southlands; for it was in Gondor’s earth that their fallen ones would rest, and the people of the Mark would have not even the graves of their dead to mourn beside. And now Mundburg would take their lady, as softly and swiftly as she herself had left them once before. And the joy for the return of Éowyn Shield-Arm, with renown earned and deeds of honour done, was lessened by the thought that she would leave them once again.

This sorrow had weighed heavy upon Éomer’s heart as well, yet in him it was tempered by one greater still – that his sister’s own heart would not go where she married. So troubled he had been by this that he had spared no thought to the place of her betrothal; instead his mind had set upon swaying Éowyn’s will at first, and later on to make himself accept that he had failed.

Dearly had he wished to see her by his side upon the end of the last battle, and know by touch and waking eye that she was safe. The sight of her broken body before the walls of the White City had haunted his nights from that day on; and for that, and for the many men lying about him, dead or wounded, no peace had found him in Cormallen. Yet she had not answered his call, nor had she given any reason for her absence. And troubled for it, Éomer had suffered to see his sister first upon entering the City. She had stood silent and pale before him then, weeping for the joy of his return, and seeming to be healed – as much as one could heal in the City of stone that had stood in the shadow of the East, and watched its rise and fall. And his heart had eased at last to know she would be well, and that they would leave for their home, and labour side by side to set it to rights.

But then Aragorn had sought his company one evening; and as the man had spoken of his fears, Éomer’s hopes had turned to dust, and when he had known the burden of his sister’s choice his heart had stilled. And so, bewildered still, he had summoned her to him - with little hope she would accept the news, and fearing for her sake. He had sat by the empty hearth as they had spoken, too numb to rise and greet her as she entered. And his words had been slow in coming, battling as they had been between pleading, disbelief, and anger.

“Sister… King Elessar came before me now…” he had begun, knowing not at the time how and even if he should finish his thought. Yet she had given him no pause to speak, nor think, for she had said to him at once:

“I know. I have given him my answer,”

“He did not tell me this…” he had whispered, feeling his hope diminish; and her next words had felt so cold as to cut him like a knife, and drive the spirit from his chest:

“I have agreed,” Éowyn had said in steady voice. “It is done.”

Then anger had flared within him, for she had stood there unfeeling and still, and Éomer had needed its fire for aid; and where he should have gentled, instead he had turned harsh in tone and rash in words:

“It is!” he had cried out. “Without my word or my consent? If your love for me has seen so little cause that I should know how you decide your future, then your duty to your land and lord should have kept you, my Lady of Rohan, from committing yourself so… so easily to such a bond…”

“It has been my duty that gave my answer for me,” she had said, her gaze kept downwards and away from him, as if seeking to think he was not there. But then, a moment later, her eyes had shifted cold and stern upon him, and her voice had been as hard as his in asking: “Do you deny it, then, that you would have wished for this, regardless of my heart?”

He had not. For that had been the reason he had called Éowyn to him – to take some measure of her thoughts and guess her answer, before placing upon her so difficult a choice. And, sitting silently before her, he had known he feared to lose her, then, when he had so soon thought her lost to him for good. More so to lose her to this land, and to a man he did not know; one he doubted she herself knew any better.

“You do not know him,” he had later pleaded.

“I know enough,” Éowyn had answered; and in her voice Éomer had heard acceptance and weariness alike, and his tone had softened.

“What do you know?”

“I know that he is much loved by his people, and held in highest praise, yet steps aside to let his true King rule. That he alone had hope when the world stood upon the brink of darkness never-ending; and that he made me see it. That he would not hide the truth from me, though it may pain us both to hear it.”

“I would not have you trapped in a loveless marriage,” he had sighed towards the end, when all his other arguments had been reduced to silence.

“But you would have me wed, my King and brother,” she had replied, her tone burdened and sad. “Which lord of your own choosing would I know better than the lord Steward? Which lord could I love before our wedding vows are spoken?” And she had silenced him, for her decision had been made, and Éomer had known it to be sound; and that she would not recant.

So he had stood beside her, and had given her away; and as the months passed he came to be thankful that she had been betrothed in a foreign land, before so few of her countrymen – for Éomer knew she bore it the easier. And now, a year thence, their people’s hearts had eased as well; for when the Steward came to Riddermak they glimpsed the nature of the man – grave, wise, and noble, and worthy of their Lady – and they were appeased. And all those who had come with them to see their White Lady wed were glad at heart, and true in feeling.

But he would not be settled, for he had learned in the months past that neither was his sister so. Of her coming marriage they had spoken little, for she would not be approached, and she had set to her tasks as if to drive all other thoughts away. And so, he had resolved only to mark the little things and signs that he only knew to see and make sense of. To glimpse her thoughts from the little she would say when it was late at night and her words escaped her; and to do little else. He had shied to mention the Lord Faramir, or what he had learned of the man from Aragorn’s many letters, and from his own insight when the Steward had come before him in both their cities; instead, he had kept silent, even as the knowledge had helped to set his mind at rest, and would have eased her own as well. For Éomer had been wary to give his sister any hope that was not of her making – once before her hopes were ruined, and he would not have her squander them once more should the man she were to wed not return them.

And now the deed was done, the pledge was sealed, and many were left happy for it. And looking towards her now, he saw once more Éowyn’s smile, the one she chose to let the others see; but from the stillness of her arms and shoulders, and the hiding of her hands upon her lap, he learned of her unrest. And looking to her husband next, Éomer thought that he too seemed in good spirits, and not troubled, yet if the Lord Faramir were so, then he would not show it. Of him Éomer was told he read the hearts of Men, and so he wondered if the man could glimpse into that of his lady wife, that night and in all of their days. He wished and hoped for it. For even as he knew the pair before him could indeed make a life steady and calm, and keep a well ordered princedom, he feared that if they took no care, and learned too little of the other, time would see their marriage fail.

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In the coming weeks, the people of Minas Tirith would watch the Lord Faramir and the Lady of Rohan closely and curiously – for many years had passed since the City had seen her Lord Steward and his lady walking her streets and greeting her people. And such was the habit of these two, who did not keep to their halls only, but walked among high lords and lower men alike; and at times they were seen marking the streets and the array of houses, the lighting of gardens and the setting of shops. It was said they were planning the lay of the city yet to be built for many years to come, fair Minas Ithil which would in later times be made once more.

And they would meet and greet the people, and the respect that they inspired into many hearts welled not from fear but from great love, and was a credit to their qualities; and theirs was the same admiration as that given to the King and Queen. But presently the interest of the people was held more by the Lord and Lady Steward, and more eyes were turned towards their apartments than towards those of the King. And words were quickly spread, from child to man to woman, and to man and child again, bearing news of their Lord and Lady’s habits and their ways; and so the people of the City went on to know those who would aid in leading them here, and whom they would bow to when Ithilien began to be settled at last.

And each of them was praised in their own right. The Lord Faramir was dearly loved by those who were his people - for he was known to them since infancy, and they were pleased to see that he was settled, and that his past struggles were now repaid. And they were grateful for his work, and the effort that he placed in all of his endeavours. Greatly had he laboured to make the City whole before the coming of the King; and, loving him, the people feared for him and for his health. For he had walked from highest level to lowest house amid the ruins and the disrepair to see what must be done, his face bright and his body drawn, and still bearing wounds that were barely healed. And their hearts had later filled with pride to see that he no longer walked alone, but instead surveyed the progress done by the King’s side.

Yet their worries were not eased, for their Lord Faramir’s tasks had grown to many in the coming days, as he also took upon him the raising of Ithilien. Not few had been those who counselled him to leave them for a later time, but he was undeterred: “How am I to lead my people,” he would say to them, “if I do not live among them? And why should they have to wait another year before they may cross the River into Ithilien, and prosper there? Nay, if the means want not, there shall be no delay. Dwellings will be built, and soon, if time and resources allow it; and mine will be among them, and will house my lady when she comes.” And Faramir stood true to his word, for that which was not in great need for the City, from able hands to building means and to his waking hours, was given to Ithilien. And the men and women of the City would watch and be troubled, for they knew what work awaited him, and how no pause would be forthcoming in the coming years.

But then his lady came and laboured by his side, and took some of his tasks unto herself, offering her steady hand and mind to give him balance and support – and she was greatly loved for this, and for the care she bore the people. For she would often be seen seated at table, maps and reports before her, the Lord Faramir standing by – a book or other papers in his hand. They loved her for her silent pride, that of a fair-haired daughter of the Kings of the North; and for her deeds of praise, and for herself alone, she was a thing of wonder to them. For here was a lady who would have her word in the affairs of state, and speak it boldly, and who would wield blades in the ring to match her husband; yet still she bore within her a grace akin to that of their ladies of old, and seemed almost shy in her lord’s presence when they thought themselves alone.

And in the eyes of the people they were a match. For they would both place the same effort in their labours, speaking of their tasks even during their meals, or when they met and walked the gardens. What little time for pause they allowed themselves was spent in silence as they stood and gazed over the City walls looking towards Ithilien, or towards the North. And from their meetings in counsel to their sparring in the ring they seemed to be of the same thought. And for this the people were glad, and smiled when their Lord and Lady passed them by; and for their many efforts they were heartened, and gave more of themselves as well.

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The Lord Faramir woke early that day, just as he did in all his others. Then, moving from between warm sheets and from his lady’s side, he left his bed and went to dress and greet the coming day.

Such had been his habit upon the twelfth day from their wedding, and thus it had remained this fortnight past; with the dawning of that day, he had vowed to give his lady mornings free from worry if the nights could not be so. For each time that they went to lay down to their rest he felt unease course through her, and saw her body stiffen when he approached their bed. She would not look towards him, nor speak a word to him that did not come as answer to his own, no matter her ease upon that passing day. And greatly did it pain him.

There was sense in her manner, he could see, for theirs was not a life willingly shared, and should she choose to distance herself from it through resentment, or even hate, he would understand, and lay no blame upon her. Yet there was no anger in her eyes, no scorn that he could see, neither towards him nor towards his people; indeed, her duties she embraced with little difficulty, and Éowyn would seem the most at ease when at his side and deep in planning for the raising of Ithilien – for it seemed that she would strive to see those lands made whole as if they were her own, and she would say her piece assuredly. Yet with the night she shied away from him; and, full of doubt, he wondered if there was any manner of trust between them; and if he was so terrible a man and husband for her to act so towards him. Surely she had come to understand that he would not… that he could not…

He knew her fears, even from her own lips, for she had spoken of them when the world had seemed to end around them; had she forgotten? Did she not think he understood? What had he done, by thought or by design, to bring this wariness upon her? Ever would these questions come to him in early hours. And neither now nor any time before had he found an answer to them. And there was anger in his heart, beyond the prickling of shame and guilt, anger both with himself and her, anger that such avoidance did not cease. That he had found no peace upon the ending of the war, and, meekly so, he thought, that should no other come upon them they would know not whether their bargain had been the thing to see it done.

At times, his heart felt heavy; and there were little things to lift it, more coming form the lives of others than his own. And even for his heavy heart he felt much gall. For such a life he had expected upon the answer that he gave his Lord and King. Such a life he had known to be his upon the pledging of his vows and the binding of his hand to hers. Yet to live it now, and feel neither sign nor hope of change in the days to come was a slow torment, made greater by the fact that hope would leave him not. Each night he hoped Éowyn would not shy away, each day he hoped he would care naught about what evening brought. But still he did. And still it pained him that though she was his wife by law, and his Lady to his people, their wedded days saw little of the joy they brought to others.

And turning towards her as he left he thought his lady to be peaceful in her sleep. And dearly did he wish to see that peace upon her when they spoke and walked together, far from the eyes of Court; when he came near. But there was none that he could see or feel when they did so. And he was saddened for it, for he had wished to help her ease the past away not long ago, promised himself to lead her from the darkness, if he could; had spoken his agreement, in part, for just that purpose. Yet till this day he had done little more than give her cause and ways to occupy her time.

And with his gaze turned downwards he left their rooms, his mind set upon the tasks before him.

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