Thump!  Something soft ran into Faramir’s legs.  “Whoa!” said the something.

Faramir took two steps back and beheld Merry, who was looking a little stunned.  Faramir looked down at his dress, and dusted a little powder from the space where the hobbit’s face had impacted the skirt.  “Merry!” he said.

“Yes, my lord?”

“You’re just the fellow I need.  Are you busy?”

“No, I just got back from my latest meal.”

“You mean to say that you’ve been eating the entire time I was out riding?  Or have you been able to squeeze in two breaks?”

“No, just the one.  It does take a considerable amount of energy to keep looking pretty, you know.”

Faramir ignored that, too.  “So you have not been assigned any other duties to perform now?”

“No, though I shall need to see Éowyn soon and discover if I do.”

They entered the Citadel together.  “If you’ll wait just a moment, Merry, and follow me to my apartment, I have to write a few letters and I would like you to deliver them for me.  The mission is to be quite secret, and you must on no account let Éomer King know of their existence.”

“You would have me betray my liege-lord, sir?”

Faramir sighed.  “I shall explain when we are in a safer place.”

When they reached the small study that was attached to Faramir’s chambers, the Steward checked the rooms carefully and then shut the door behind him.  “He insulted my mother.”

“What?”

“He meant to test my mettle by provoking my ire.  I believe he wished for some sort of contest in strength of arms; but, if I have anything to say about it, he shall have no such satisfaction.  And if I cannot, in some way, prove to him that I am indeed a worthy man, he may not give his consent for me to marry his sister.”

“Ah,” said Merry.  “I thought men of Gondor never practiced deceit.”

“I cannot deceive a man about something of which he is ignorant.  He will learn, in due time, I assure you.  And I must confess I should have thought things through more clearly before I placed you in your current position.  Wait, half a moment—”  He rose and produced a sheet of paper, and rapidly wrote upon it.  “Give this to my Lady Éowyn; and if she gives you her consent, you should have no further qualms about the matter.  Your king has ordered you to do her bidding today, has he not?”

“He has.  Will she give me her consent?”

“I hope so.”

Though Merry knew the rules for delivering messages, his fingers still itched to open the envelope and see what Faramir’s plan was.  He decided that he would content himself with reading Éowyn’s expressions as she looked over the letter.

First, seeing the hand of the one who had written the missive, she smiled.

Then, when she turned to the letter’s contents, she turned white with fury.

A few minutes later, she stifled the urge to laugh.

Finally, when she rose from her reading, her face was set and she had a determined glint in her eye.  “You have my free and full permission to involve yourself in this matter,” she said.  “Pray escort me to my lord’s study, and we will discuss the matter there.”

When a few minutes later he returned to the study, Éowyn in tow, Faramir rose with a triumphant look.  “You have her consent?”

“He does,” said Éowyn.

“Excellent.”  He handed a letter to Merry.  Merry looked at the name to whom it was addressed, and looked up inquiringly.

“My cousin,” said Faramir.