Chapter 3 – Eowyn’s Ask

In the Houses of Healing

Faramir sat in the gardens of the Houses of Healing, looking out towards the east, soaking up the morning sunlight.  He was obeying the command of his King.  He was resting, and eating and recovering his strength.  Every second thought, though was with the host that had left for the Morgul Vale to challenge Sauron at the Black Gates themselves. A part of him yearned to be there with them, but for once it was not the need to prove himself worthy that drove him, or the need to make up for not being Boromir that caused him to risk his life to try and win the unattainable approval of his father.  Faramir shut his eyes against the thought of his father.  Much of what he endured as the Black Shadow tried to take hold remained in his memory.  A parting gift as it were from the Witch King of Angmar, he thought bitterly.  He knew his father was dead and he remembered with bitter clarity the moments that lead up to his death.  He would have to make peace with these memories if he were to maintain the tenuous calm within that had been given to him by his King.  Faramir thought of Aragorn, and a true sense of gratitude filled his heart.  He would never be able to fully thank Aragorn for what he had been given, no less than a second chance at life itself. Quite literally, the King had come into the shadows and saved him, pulled him back from the torment of Shadow and doubt.  No words or deeds would ever be enough, but he knew that he would spend his life gratefully in his service, to give back what he could.  The burden of being his father's son had been lifted from his shoulders.  So much had happened. He had lost so much in this war against Sauron.  It would take much time to accept all that had befallen him, let alone understand it.  The memory of his father and his beloved brother's passing evoked such different emotions within Faramir.  Grief, sorrow, the relationships that would now never be, comingled with the emotions that he had a harder time accepting and acknowledging; those of relief, freedom, a lightening of burden. He balked at admitting to such emotions.  What kind of son can be glad that his father has died? This question sat heavy on his heart.

No, he told himself, it was not the time for recriminations.  It was a time for healing. It was a time for living because no one knew what the next day would bring.  Despite the misgivings he had about his father's passing and the shifting fortunes of the war itself, he felt a shadow had indeed lifted from his heart and he could look forward in life, he paused and looked East again. How much life was left to any of them entirely depended on the army that gathered at the Black Gate and furthermore on two Hobbits winding their way though the Morgai within Mordor on a lonely quest that would end at Mount Doom. All depended on them.  Faramir made petition within his heart, asking the Valar to make easy their path and to protect them however much they could be protected as they traveled literally through the land of Shadow.  He shivered slightly in the weak morning light and decided that it was time for many such musings to end for this day.

As he stood to go inside the hall of the Houses of Healing he was stopped by his squire, "My Lord, the Warden of the House wishes an audience with you."  Faramir sighed at his overly officious but very eager young servant. He had known the boy for years and he only fell back into stilted formality when he was feeling vulnerable and scared.  He placed a gentle hand on his squire's shoulder "Eirik, please.  This is not the Citadel.  We do not need such formality here." He tried to look stern but ended with a smile for the earnest young man and relented, "Go and bring him forth."  He returned to the balustrade overlooking the City and Beyond. He heard footsteps behind and he turned, "Now Warden, you must forg-" Faramir pause in mid-sentence for beyond the Warden was a beauty beyond all reckoning.  All in white with fair skin and reddish blond hair. She was a vision indeed, but what struck him to the heart was the look in her eye. It was as if he was looking into his own soul.  A restlessness and self-doubt laid upon a fierce desire to prove herself and yet was muted somehow.  Discounted and put aside. Had he not felt as much; he lived a life for others yet always overlooked, always doubted by his father.  Pity welled up within him for this strong yet fragile, beautiful white flower. "--Present the Lady Eowyn of Rohan." Faramir started and was belated aware that the Warden had been speaking.  Coloring slightly, Faramir realised he had also been staring. He inclined a slight bow and held hand on heart, "My lady, What is it you wish of me?"

Eowyn looked on the Lord Steward ready to make her fervent petition but paused, she was caught by the gentle look in his light blue eyes, he seemed to see straight into her heart, past her defenses. There was no pretense or pretension, only an unnerving communion of sorts. Normally this would have angered her, such an intrusion into her private self.  But not so this time, in this moment she saw no mockery, no questioning, only compassion and understanding.  It quite took her breath away, she shook away such thoughts, she had always scorned the women of the court for sighing over such ideas, such tropes in their silly romantic stories. She has derided such emotions. They were only to be found in the most banal of love poems.  Now to her affronted consternation the truth of the emotion was laid before her. This gentle man, for she felt within her heart this to be true, stood before her, taking her breath way.  Galled by her own reaction, she rallied and came at him in a strong purposeful voice, "It is not that I have complaint about my treatment here.  I have not. But I am well and I must have employment, I must be useful. And the Good Warden here will not hear told of this! I beg to be useful."

Her voice, her words.  Well he could understand their meaning, the full import of what they said and what they did not say. She needed to be useful, her soul cried out for duty, lest it should wither and die.  Faramir understood that desperate need, that striving for something beyond herself, something to give her life meaning.  He had spent his whole life in this search.  He had only now begun to accept that about himself, he was only now beginning to see to the wounds of his own soul and to heal them, the King's hand had begun the process. Where it would take him he was unsure but he now had the courage and strength to try. The beauty before him now was in pain, not physical those were healing, but her soul was wounded. That much was clear.

"My Lord, What say you to my entreaty? Will you say nothing?" Eowyn stood, uncertain. She turned to go.

"My Lady! Stay." Faramir entreated "Forgive me my manners." He turned to the Warden, "if you would give us leave, Master Warden. I will tend to this." The Warden bowed, gave his farewell to Eowyn and departed.  He turned back to Eowyn, to the desperate pain and longing in her pale blue eyes. He wanted more than anything to assuage that pain but was unsure as how this could be done; how he of all people could do this thing. "Now My lady, what is it that you ask of me?"

"That you release me from this house so that I might seek a way to pay my debt of honour.  My brother goes forth to the Morgul Vale and yet I must sit and bide my time.  I looked for death in battle if only to give my life some meaning.  Now I am denied even that." she ended fervently.

Faramir looked at the indomitable spirit of this lady and the depths of her grief, in awe and in sorrow, knowing the pain that lived in her heart and he felt her spirit give direction to his heart. He knew of her pain, her sadness, her need for duty, for occupation. It mirrored what had been in his own wounded soul, until the King's hand.  "My lady, I cannot countermand what the Healing Warden has deemed necessary. For even I am held here in wise safety as my mind and body heal.  Can you not do the same?"

Looking into Faramir's kind blue depths Eowyn wanted to be able to say yes. She saw his gentleness, his understanding, could even bask in it, but her mind rebelled, "But I do not desire healing! I must be given employment of some kind, if not battle!"

Faramir said gravely, "The battle may be brought to us at the last, whether we will it or no."

Eowyn closed her eyes in frustration, "I would have you know that I am not afraid. I fear neither death nor pain."**

Faramir's heart was pieced in both admiration and grief, "What do you fear, m'lady?"**

"A cage."** Eowyn stopped. The word was more than she had meant to say, far more than she had meant to reveal. She looked at Faramir, not knowing what she expected to see, but a small almost admiring smile was on his face and the quiet compassion and understanding had not left his eyes, it took her aback just slightly. She continued with a lighter tenor in her voice hoping to deflect him from her previous words, "The nurses would have me in bed seven days. I cannot. And my window does not face Eastward." this last was said with almost a small girl's plaintiveness 

Faramir smiled a little more and took her hands in his. "Your window does not look East? Well, in that, at least I can help.  The rest we will have sit and wait and watch. And if you would consent," Faramir continued tentatively, hopefully, "to keep company with me and we can watch and wait together. I should very much like that."

Eowyn looked into his eyes and felt an ever so soft fluttering in her breast, like a bird trying to settle its wings on a patch of cool green grass, to take comfort and ease if only for a moment or two. "Yes."