Author’s note: In this chapter, the events take place about three weeks from those of the previous one, and also two months from Éowyn and Faramir’s wedding (give or take a day or two).

The dance I described is completely made up, a variation from a something my sister and I used to dance when I was little. It might certainly seem clearer to me than I’ve actually made it out to be; which is why I’d like to ask you whether it makes any sense at all. Thanks!

I’ve come across crowths (instruments alike to violins, either bowed or plucked) when reading Walter Scott’s ‘Ivanhoe’, and I figured if he placed them in England in the time of Richard the Lion-Heart then they might very well exist in Middle Earth as well. But if I am wrong and no such instruments were used in Tolkien’s universe then, by all means, let me know.

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Upon this day, the ending of the sixth month, the hills of Emyn Arnen witnessed the gathering of many Men from those who had settled near to them in green Ithilien. For, when seven days were passed since the crossing of the Great River, their Lord Prince gave a great feast in honour of the new beginning. And in his and his Lady’s company, close to the setting of the manor-house, all who were there raised a glass for what once was and from then on shall be again. Spirits were gay, dances were light and swift, talk and foods alike were plentiful and rich. And, by the golden shining of the sun, and then the white of moon and stars and yellow of the fires, they all rejoiced for their good fortunes.

The people had come from all three villages, and for this night their homes had been left all but emptied, and left so in good faith; for their bounds were well guarded by the same companies of Rangers which had once held fast against the orcs and soldiers of the Enemy. Of these men, some had taken to settling down into the very lands they had roamed in the days past, others had chosen to patrol them still, to the safety of their kith and kin. And it was they who in this hour kept watch over the silent houses, and they who heard rumours of song in the distance.

Ten hours had now past since midday. And as most children were settled to their sleep even among the singing and the dancing, tales of the War began to be told, as they were wont to be in all gatherings of Men, and would be for many years to come. And they spoke of strength and honour, of worthy deeds and worthy men; of lives saved and lost, and of the return of light into the land. The fallen were given thanks and remembered, the ones left standing were praised for their endurance. And in this hour the people of Ithilien turned also to their Lord and Lady, and told of their bravery in song and verse; and they were proud that such strong and valiant souls would lead them in their days to come, and loved both their open nature and their noble look.

Upon this happy day they both were clothed in finery; their garments were made of the finest silks, their colours clear and true, and their adornments simple. Flowing and light were Éowyn’s green skirts, and white braided ribbons streamed at her elbows and round her slender waist. Many a fine braids bound back her long hair, to then leave it falling golden round her shoulders. About her neck a silver-threaded chain lay, upon her brow a silver circlet; and she was a light among lights. By Faramir she walked, and he shone with the light of the moon at her side. His habits were wrought in black, and grey threads were woven at the hems and round his neck; underneath his dark tunic he wore a shirt of grey. Upon his chest, gleaming in starlight, he bore embroidered the tokens of Ithilien. His hair ran straight and dark down past his shoulders, and a circlet of silver held it in place. Together they had first stood in welcome to the ones who came, and walked the grounds where the feast was held, and had speech with their people; and now that dinner had been served they did so once again.

Like to his people, so too was Faramir merry this night, light of heart and light of step; for he saw all about him the fruits of their labour, and he thought that no reward could be held more dear to him than the joy he read in every face, and the hopes in every heart. And Éowyn was glad to see his smile and hear his laugh, and felt foolish to ever have thought that in living by his side she would find more care than quiet. In truth, she could no longer say what had once spurred her fears, for they now seemed unfounded. Once, she had thought that idleness would waste her; instead her lord had sought her aid in settling a country, and even now she would sit in the Council of the Citadel at whiles, to gain knowledge of the Southern rule and law, and thus be learned in the keeping of Ithilien when Faramir would be away. Once, she had mourned the loss of sword and horse; instead her lord would cross his blade with hers when both their time allowed it, and school her still in ways unknown to her, while from the stables there was not a one to hold her back.

Nay, if she now had any cause to be unsettled by her lord it was not of his making, but by the workings of her own mind. For, while together or apart, she would puzzle his looks, and deeds, and words, in doubt as how to read them, and how to read into her own heart. In what her mind would tell her of them she had little faith remaining, and gladly would she walk the path to the Unnamed One’s lair as it once had been than find a wrong meaning to them. These were her last doubts of all others, and the most wearying of all, so greatly would they twist her thoughts with meanings.  

That her lord left her side when morning came had once been such a cause for doubt, made greater by the shyness and confusion she would feel to think of it; at first she had deemed it a blessing, a sign of his good heart and his regard for her, that he would think to spare his lady wife the awkwardness of waking in the arms of a man she cared naught for. Yet, as the days had passed, she had begun to fret that the Lord Faramir did so for his own sake, indeed, even renounced his right to her not out of courtesy but because, in truth, he would not have her in his bed. That perhaps there was another to whom he had bestowed his heart a great many years before, one he had kept concealed when speaking of their bargain; one he would love from afar – or even from close by. Bleak images of being scorned in such a way would come before her, and they would burn her greatly – why, Éowyn would still shy to admit; but she would battle such thoughts with all that her reason could bring forth, and take herself to task most harshly for ever having them, cursing herself for little trust and groundless fears, and being shamed for thinking wrongly of her lord. For he was ever true towards her, ever had been, in this and others, and had she not supported his suit even to her own brother for just such a quality?  

Nay, she was wretched and unjust to ever have felt such doubt, one that had faded away, as others had; and she had let it pass, though it now seemed strange to her mind that the unease she had once felt when standing by her lord had subsided even as she became assured of his draw to her. At whiles, she would feel his eyes upon her, a steady, burning gaze; and in the few times she would meet them with her own, the look of his eyes – fleeting or not, as he would hold it – would turn her still. No man before him had she known to look upon her in his manner – as if he saw in her all that was fairest to his eye and held in highest praise; true and clean admiration, and a deep sense of desire also, as yet restrained and quieted – the enriched echo of his look upon the night of their wedding, one she had since then forgotten.

And for his gaze Éowyn would wonder, when walking by herself or reading from his books, what manner of expression would be in his eyes should that restraint give way. And such thoughts would startle her, for she would no longer know herself when having them, nor would she understand her heart, except to feel it was unsettled and unquiet. Seeking her calm once more, she would then tell herself that what might stir the body could well not stir the heart; wiser it would be, and safer, to keep her mind clear and her heart still, for such looks of his brought little warrant, and little of the certainty that she so needed to trust to feel again with all her heart. And even as she found no such sign from her husband that her reason could not dismiss – he might mean naught in the kiss of her hand, she would tell herself, he might mistake his tone to sound so pleased when calling her name, or that he chose to spend by her side what idle time he had might be only for the eyes of others, and naught more – still she blamed herself for little faith.

As for the man himself, he had sought her company in the fortnight before the crossing to Ithilien, whether by walking at her side in the gardens of the White City or riding far outside its walls. And, in those hours spent away from duty, Éowyn perceived him more as Faramir the Man of Gondor than the Lord of the City, and so too she began to think of him. For while ever proper in fine dress when she saw him in Court, when they met alone and went where no other followed – and it was often so – he would many a time wear but the simplest of garments, as if only awhile ago he had returned from caring for his horse or tending to some garden. And he would speak to her in such a manner as if for many years they had done little else but wonder how warm Ithilien and Gondor both would turn during the Summer, how rainy with the Fall, of the strange draw the halfling’s leaf would have over their King, or of the oddities some of those serving in their household would display at whiles. And so it was that only little time did pass until Éowyn had made her own the lack of care her lord would bear when at her side, and, soon enough, her own words flowed with ease as well. And it was only towards the end, when their idle time drew shorter once again, that she knew herself to be looking forward to their meetings; and that, without much thought, she had learned to speak to him once more as she had when first they had met, without the ever-present thought of him being her husband and her lord to curb her words.

And yet, the thought wormed its way to her mind, for all his openness and easy nature he never once had repeated that kiss upon her hand which had so unsettled her, many days ago – and therein lay the doubt that it had meant little. To think of it, he rarely even laid his hand upon her, except in offering his arm in walking, as he did even now, or when he settled her to sleep when she woke from her dreams at night. And even if to think of it would turn her chest to flutters, still a part of her wished that he would, for once, hold her close, if only to know the feel of it, or even if she would recoil.

And it was that thought which turned her to the waking world once more, starting that she should think such things about her lord with him so near. And so, she broke off from her musings and closed her mind to any cares, and, turning her eyes about herself, she looked out in earnest once again. In the distance, and to the left from where she and Faramir walked, stretched the great tables of the feast; and from them she caught the sound of talk and song, and glimpsed the sight of cups being raised. Closer by, in a circle, many were seated round a glowing fire, to hear high tales, both old and new, and spoken proudly. And to her right the minstrels raised their voices, while drums, harps and crowths raised their song; and many pairs of dancers, clothed in many a bright colour, turned to their chimes, slowly or swiftly like to the rhythm of the tunes. And the light steps and flowing turns before her caught her eye, for never before had she seen them arrayed into a dance after that fashion, nor had she thought to see their like within the Southern lands; and she rested for a moment, the better to admire them, staying her lord at her side.

For his part, Faramir looked towards the dancers also, but paid them little heed; instead, his notice was settled upon his lady wife, for he had reached towards her heart when she had fallen silent for too long a time, and felt it turn swiftly from one mood to another. Her thoughts had wandered in the last quarter mark, and he greatly wished to have know their aim; for while deep in them she had woven together certainty, flashes of doubt and guilt, a slow understanding, and, towards the end, a wisp of longing. What she had longed for in that moment he could not have said – indeed, it could have been any one thing from the lands of her home to the very same dances they witnessed, and to another altogether – and he gave it much interest. But, as her heart came to be settled, Faramir also caught her feeling of delight at the sight of the merry dance; and so, he turned to her after a little time and asked:

“Do you like such dances?”

“I do,” she answered. “I have not seen their like till now; they are both swift and light somehow, and look, they all who dance them seem the more to glide than walk the earth.” And then she turned to Faramir and said: “Our own dances of the Mark are alike in rhythm, but not so sudden in their turns, nor so varied in their steps. It seems as if they each alone step to their own design, and yet they come together.”

“And would you like to learn them?” he went on; then at his lady’s nod he took her by the hand and walked towards the dancers’ circle. And, as he faced her still, he saw the fresh look of alarm spark in her eyes.

“What do you mean?” she asked him. “In this very moment? But… I do not know the steps… any step!” And she pulled back at his hand to stay him.

“There are none,” smiled Faramir. “That is why you think them so many and so strange. This song has no such steps laid out; the dancers need only move at the same pace.”

“But how can that be?” she frowned. “They dance in pairs – would they not encumber one another? And if there is no sense to it, how would any of them know to move together?”

“But there is sense, only not in the steps, for they are missing as you know them. The dance of the circle, so it is called,” said Faramir, then turned and walked around her till he was standing at her back; and with his left arm outstretched he pointed towards the pair closest to them. “All the trick of it lies in the moving of their arms, do you see? For they make and break a circle between them; and the dancers themselves turn this way and that, in circles or half circles, in keeping with the song. These turns themselves are the ones numbered and measured to the tune, and where man or woman may place their steps makes little difference, for their breadth changes as the song does. I know the turns, for now you would need only to follow.” Then he lowered his head close to her shoulder, and said in a lowered voice: “Would you not come? Would you not dance with me?”

“I would,” she answered without thought, and, in the same way, she turned her head towards his just as he took a step away. Then she followed where his hand led, near to the place where their people danced to the last measures of the song, and where many cheers broke out when they settled to their place. And with a warm smile to his lips Faramir placed his hands upon her arms; and when Éowyn did in kind he said to her:

“Listen to the song, for it will aid you; our turns are made to follow it. And keep your arms bent and a little stiff, so that you may guess my move before I make it.” 

“Guess?” she asked, and turned her eyes from their feet to his face.

“Aye, you will guess it,” he said, “you shall see.” A moment later a new song began, slow in its pace and seeming to flow like the waters of a river, and Faramir stepped to his left while turning his body to his right, stepping that way like to the rhythm of the tune and taking his lady with him. “Turn at the waist,” he said to her, “your arms should indeed be set, but not the rest of your body.” Then after a time he turned his arms and body to the left while stepping to the right; and he smiled again when Éowyn followed with little trouble. “There, you see? It all lies in our arms, for they are the ones to support us, and make us move in the line of a circle.” But his lady had no answer, for she was looking downward once again, watching her steps to keep from tangling them to his. But when he called to her she raised her gaze once more.

“Have you taken notice?” he said. “We make this turn from left to right after four measures of the song are gone by.”

“I have,” said Éowyn just as they turned once more. “It will not always be so, will it?”

“Aye, you have guessed it,” he answered, and a wide smile fleeted across her lips. “For now we will keep to it, even as the pace grows swifter – for so will the song keep turning swifter as it nears its end – but there will come a point when we will turn at two measures, and then at only one. I will tell you when the moment comes.”

And, indeed, it was not long before he called to her to turn at the second measure; by then his lady had well learned the dance, and she looked no longer towards the ground, but kept her gaze upon the crescent moon and seven stars woven in silver thread upon her lord’s chest, at whiles raising it to his face. And when she did so she caught the gleam of laughter in his eyes, and wondered how the sight of it should warm her heart.

Yet the song went ever on around them, and the drums and flutes and crowths turned stronger still, just as did their pace turned swifter; and the time came when Faramir cried “One!”, and from then on the world began to fade before Éowyn’s eyes, veiled by brisk twists and turns. Then, of a sudden, a change came to the song; the flutes were silenced and the drums grew louder, while the strings of the crowths were plucked in sudden jerks. And in that moment Faramir took hold of her waist with one hand, while with the other he guided hers upon his shoulders; and once they held each other thus, he said: “Small steps, turn on the spot now, as swiftly as you can.”

And she did so, and they turned swifter than ever they had before, and ever to their left. And Éowyn closed her eyes for their haste and for the thrilling blend of fear and delight she felt. But then she heard Faramir’s voice come crying, strained and broken with the effort: “Do not close your eyes… and do not look round; you will only grow dizzy. Look to me. Only to me.” And her eyes opened, and she looked at him, and his eyes became her bearing, and his hands her shore; and the song played ever faster, and she turned with it until she deemed she could no longer feel the ground beneath her feet.

“Worry not,” Faramir called to her, “I have you, I will not let you fall.” And as the song twisted once more he drew one arm around her waist, and the other across her back, and her own crossed over his shoulders. And she leaned into his arms, warm, firm and trusted; and all she saw was that her lord’s eyes were smiling, and that his dark hair was flowing wildly with the dance; and all she heard was his laugh beyond the swift beat of the drums; and she felt the twist of his tunic beneath her fingers, and the shape of his body, close and strong.

Then just as she thought that she could take no more, and that her legs would give way beneath her, the music shifted once again, and Faramir’s hands moved swiftly round her back, so that before she knew it he had her his arms, her feet high above the ground, her arms round his shoulders, and the breath out of her lungs. And as the music slowed at last he spun her round, and the feel of the world returned; and from where her head had rested at his shoulder Éowyn caught with the corner of her eye the light flowing skirts of the maids who were still twirled about.

And they both laughed when they stopped altogether and she could feel the ground beneath her feet once more; but for her weary legs she clung to him, and for his comfort he held on to her, and they both took their breaths in heaves.

“I did not- I did not think the dances of Gondor to be so-” Éowyn began to say, but did not finish, breathless still.

“Nay, but we are in Ithilien, and these are her dances,” Faramir said, a smile clear in his voice, and relief deep in his heart, “they always have been so… spirited, is it?”

And they laughed once more, and stood contented; and it was only when another dance began, and they had to move away, that she noticed their arms around each other still, and that she had not fretted at his closeness. And from then on they spent the night in dancing and in talk, and lending their ears to tales that told of old Ithilien, as it was know by those still living to remember it; and Éowyn had little time or cause to be lost in thought once more. And the feast went on into the early hours, until the night drew close to its end, and dawn was not far off. Then it was that Lord and Lady retired from their people, taking the last drink from the grace-cup. And then, bearing their cloaks to ward off the chill and a torch to light their path, they walked alone for a little while and made their way towards the place where their future home would be completed in the year to come. And Faramir bade his lady follow to where the windows of their chambers would face in their coming days; and there he built a fire and lit it from the torch. He then sat down to lean against a tree nearby, and, as she took his outstretched hand, Éowyn followed. 

“The sun will rise here every morning from between those trees,” he said, and pointed at a clearing in the distance. “I have seen it. And I may for the first time glance East at the time of the sunrise from my own home, and see a thing of wonder and not one of dread.” And, as he spoke, Éowyn heard the clear sound of hope in his voice, and saw how his face brightened from some light within, more even than from that of flame nearby. And once again she felt herself turn glad at the sight of his gladness, and light of heart for his own joy.

“I have told you how I used to watch the sun rise in days past,” he said, and saw his lady nodding at his words; “ever did I gaze west when it pierced over the horizon, seeing not the sun itself, but how its first rays shot between towers and through darkened windows, and how the white stone shone with their light. The shining of the stone – that has been my only sunrise for many long years. But no more, for those days are gone, and shadow has gone with them.” And saying this he closed his eyes a moment, drawing his breath in, deep and pleased.

And as they sat in silence for a while Éowyn thought that she had seen no shadow cloud the sun from high upon the steps of Meduseld; instead, hers had dwelled within, and had come from a different Tower. But it too had gone, leaving the chambers of her brother’s Hall open to light and warmth once more; and for the years that she had spent in care and dread of it she would not waste another moment more dwelling upon it. And so, she welcomed the sound of Faramir’s voice when he turned to her and spoke once more:

“I have brought you here to witness it with me, with all its changes wrought into the sky, from beginning to end; for even here I have caught only glimpses of it. But if you would not care for it, we may even now make our way back to the house that we have settled.”

“No,” said Éowyn, ”I would rather watch it, more so now than any other time. Is it not fitting, after all, that we should do so upon this day, when Ithilien was heralded by song and dance and the cries of its people? And I have never watched it run its course before. Yet what to do until such course begins?” she asked, having her growing drowsiness in mind. “For look, the stars shine still with their bright light, and the moon is yet unhidden.”

“And so they all shall last, even as only half the mark remains until the dawn itself,” Faramir answered; “but until the time when the sky shall first turn its shades, from black to darkest blue and scarlet, little over another half mark remains.”

“That is well, then,” she said, and lowered her head a little, so that she might conceal the stifling of a yawn; for the hour was late indeed, and she had had little rest that night. Yet even so her lord took notice.

“Are you certain you would not better wish for me to take you to your rest?” he asked her then. “Verily, you seem in need of it, all of a sudden. Perhaps I should not have brought you here this night.”

“Nay, worry not,” said Éowyn, a faint quality to her voice, like to the clouds that come to cover sun and sky after high noon. “If sleep does try to claim me it is only because we are seated, and resting even now; we have done little of it through the night, and now my body seeks to make amends even against my will. But speak to me,” she asked, “and keep me wakeful; for I do so wish to see the sun’s rising, if only because it is so dear to you.”

And at her words Faramir started, as for her tone of voice; for beyond the drowsiness he also could discern a kindling of care. And in that moment she no longer seemed so apart from him; and even though he could not guess the reason for it, still his heart lifted in hope.

“What would you have me speak of?” he asked instead, his gaze fastened upon her; and it seemed to him then that his words were spoken by another, falling strange and empty on his ears, so intent he was upon the slightest movement from his lady.

“Whatever you might wish,” she answered, resting her head against the bole of the tree, and her eyes upon the stars; “of the heavens above and the ground below, of the making of the Sun and Moon and the foundering of great lands; of what is lost by history yet remembered still by lore.” And, as her eyes closed as she said the last, she thought: ‘Of what your mind holds hidden for these lands you were entrusted with, and of what your heart might hide’.

“Then wake,” said Faramir, clasping her hands to press them to his own, “and listen to the tale of the coming of Men, as legend tells it.”

And on the brink of giving into sleep Éowyn said to him: “But that I know. Tell me another.”

“I would,” he smiled, “but I do fear that little tales remain that you have not read of from all the books that lie settled onto my shelves.”

At that her eyes started open, and her sluggish mind awoke. And she turned towards him to take in his look; then, seeing it was open, and that it held no hidden thought, she asked: “For how long have you known-?”

“Not long,” he said, “about a fortnight only.”

“Yet you have said no word.”

“What cause would I have had to? Are they not also yours, to read when it so pleases you?” said Faramir. And at his words Éowyn softened once again, relieved. But then a glimmer came into his eyes, and he went on to ask. “Yet, now that we do speak of this, would you not tell me why you read from them?”

Later on, when recalling this moment, Éowyn would think that had she been more rested, had he not held her by the hands, or looked upon her as he did, she would have found an answer to her liking; as it were, she heard herself reply instead: “Because they are different to the tales I know. They tell me of your people – our people; and of you.” And she was certain that her cheeks burned as she said this, and wished that her hair would lie unbound upon her shoulders as it used to, so that she might hide behind it; and more, that her hands were free to be clutched in her lap together, and held still, even as in that moment the touch of his fingers alone seemed to hold her mind and body steady.

“Am I so foreign to you even now that you should seek to learn about me from the books in my chamber than from myself?” he asked in gentle question. “Am I so difficult to speak to still?” And for the kindness in his tone and the warmth of his hands Éowyn thought her heart would break; and staring at their hands entwined she could not bear to meet his eyes, shying to learn of their expression. But answer him she would; and so, with her eyes closed she shook her head and whispered “No”. And with the slightest movement to her left, where her lord sat gazing upon her, she bowed her head and took a single breath, then opened her eyes once more and said:

“I do not read from them to learn of you; not now. I have in the beginning, but no more. I read from them because they have since turned dear to me, but I have no other need of them.” And then, after a moment’s pause she turned her head fully towards him and looked into his eyes. “I know you now,” she said. And even as she did so, Éowyn knew her words were true, and that, for all of her doubts and wavering over her heart and his, she did indeed know this man beside her.

And Faramir looked long at his lady wife, his eyes roaming over the contours of her face; and greatly did he long to trace them with his lips and hold her in his arms – but until he knew for certain that she would not stand frozen and stiff in his embrace he would do no such thing. And so he merely smiled at her a slow and steady smile, delighted to see her answer in kind; then, turning his head a little to the side, he pressed on in asking:

“How well do you know me?”

And even to her own surprise Éowyn faltered but a little, in the slight startle of her hands and the blink of her eye. “Enough,” she answered, “though not in all; for I trust there are some things about you that I know naught of, and some of which I know too little.” Then lowering her gaze once more, as if her coming words were discomfiting to say, she added: “I also trust that I shall know more in time; if you would have it.”

“Gladly,” said Faramir, “and even now, if there is aught you wish to know.” But when she kept quiet for some time he added: “Perhaps another time, then;” and if his spirits lowered a little for her silence he paid no heed to them. And glancing towards the sky a moment he went on to say: “Still, the stars are out, and they will take their time to fade; we spoke of tales and legend, yet settled upon none. Would you still now care to hear one?”

“I would,” Éowyn nodded, at ease once more now that her lord had changed the subject. And as she rested back against the tree she saw and felt that their hands both had till then remained entwined, but she made no move to break their hold. And then she said: “Some time indeed will have to pass ere the sun rises; so tell me then of Númenor the fair of which you dream at night, of its bright days of light and learning, and how her children found these shores and built anew; but, if you will, speak little of its downfall, for I would rather hear no tale of woe in waiting for the Sun.”

And so did Faramir begin to speak to her of the land of Westernesse, the Land of Gift, and of the many gifts said to be held within its borders, crafts and herbs and things of beauty; of the White Tree the Elves had brought to it from shores even farther West than those of Númenor itself, and whose sapling was later brought to the lands of Middle-Earth. And as his words flowed ever on, soothing and even, the drowsiness returned to Éowyn, so soft and slow that she took no notice of it; and it was not long before sleep claimed her at the last, bearing with it the lull of her lord’s speech.

Of tall ships she dreamed, swaying in the deep waters of the Sea and basking in the clear light of morning, and of soft winds which blew cool and fresh about her. Then from without the depths of this calm realm she heard Faramir’s voice once more, calling her to awake; and for a time she was caught between both worlds, of dreams and waking. And she thought to feel the weight of his arms upon hers, and she recalled, as one sometimes can only do by the memory of the body, the same comforting arms drawing her from the abyss which would at whiles open before her in her darkest dreams, his hands warming her own, and keeping her still and safe when shivers came about her. And when she woke in earnest, and still felt his arms around her shoulders, she knew that such comfort and safety that came to her upon the ending of her dreams were of his making, and that till now she had for the most part forgotten it. 

“Look there,” Faramir said, and pointed in the distance, where, in the clearing he had spoken of at first, the glowing rays of the Sun pierced over the earth and between green leaves; and the sky was of the lightest blue around it, and the clouds parted before its warming light and shone golden and rosy in the heavens.

And as its first light fell upon them and the blades of the bedewed grass shone like to silver gems about them, the thought came to Éowyn that the man with whom she would from then on spend her life sat even now beside her, and that she wore his ring upon her finger; and such a thought no longer seemed so daunting to her. And so it was that she felt her heart decide at last – that it would open to him, stand at the ready for what he had to offer; that she would see her questions answered and her remaining doubts scattered away, and she would settled fully in this life that she herself had helped to build – as Lady of Ithilien and wife to Faramir of Gondor.

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