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Bound by Duty; Bound by Joy  by Mirkwoodmaiden

Chapter 6 – Bound by Joy

All was in stillness.  And then it was not. The Earth shook.  The very foundations of the White City rumbled and then life in the City began again.  “Numenor,” Faramir whispered.

“What do you mean?”  Eowyn said, still clasping his hands.

“It was a dream I had, have had many times.  The world covered by darkness, a darkness unescapable,”

Eowyn fearing those words and what they meant, drew closer to Faramir, seeking his comfort.

Faramir, warmed by her touch, her nearness, raised her chin with his hand and looked into those troubled depths. And for the first time he knew the vision that he had lived with, the vision that had sent Boromir on the quest that saw him join the Nine Walkers, would not come to pass.  A cloud left his vision and he spoke words of comfort to the woman was becoming his heart, “No, it was only a dream.”  He looked to the East, “Cold reason might say it is the end of days, but in my heart I do not believe it.  I feel joy in my bones,” He looked down at Eowyn, worry and light combined in her pale blue depths, “I do not believe the darkness.” and he kissed her forehead, hugging her. “I do not believe this darkness will last.”

Eowyn looked up into Faramir’s gentle blue eyes and she truly saw no darkness, only light and hope and love.  She wanted to believe in his vision, in his love but she remained in shadow; her life still remained in shadow.  But just for this while she would stand in his light, basking in the reflected glow; telling herself that his light was enough for now.  They remained in the garden looking toward the East and then at each other as a healing wind blew in from the North.  The Anduin ran silver and joy rose in song from the streets of the City.

Eirik ran in from the Hall to seek his Lord and pointed to the sky, shouting, “The Eagles, my Lord!”

They looked to the East and there was a great Eagle, singing the confirmation of what Faramir’s heart already knew.  It was done.  Sauron was defeated and the Armies of the West were victorious.  Faramir in a rush of emotion, fervently hugged Eowyn and kissed her forehead again.

He then swooped Eirik up and swung him around in joy, “Oh my lad, it is finished!”

Eirik, after his feet gained ground again, had an ear-splitting grin, “If Mum could only be seeing this!”

Faramir declared, “Go to your mother, my boy.  Go to her!”

“Oh my lord, Do you mean it, my lord?”

“Yes, most definitely, a boy should be with his mum at this joyous time!”

Eirik, overcome with happiness, kissed his lord’s hand and was off running like the wind along the winding ways down the tiers to his mother.

Eowyn, eyes full of laughter, immediate joy having chased sadness briefly to the shadows, “That was very kind of you.”

Faramir coloured slightly, “A boy needs his mother at times of great joy.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Joy abounded in the City.  The absence of hope that had pervaded the City, insidiously infecting all aspects of life was marked in the heart by its return.  Hopelessness had seeped into the very stones of the City, unnoticed and unmarked until the mountain collapsed and hope and joy once again filled into the void it had left.  

Laughter, easy and abundant, was heard in every corner.  Faramir, restored in spirit and body, removed to the Citadel from the Houses of Healing to take up his father’s Stewardship if only until such time as the King should come to the White City.  He found much that needed restoring.  Eirik, returned running from yet another errand his Lord had sent him upon, saw Harthedir once again standing guard at the gates of the Citadel.

“Running again, Eirik? whither from?” Harthedir asked, a smile spread across his face.

“Yes.” Eirik returned the smile, stopped to catch his breath and share a few words with one of his favourite Guardsman,  “I had a missive for those leaving for the Field of Cormallen that my lord would have delivered.”  He look up and stood after the stitch in his side abated and looked at the White Tree, protected as ever by four Guardsmen.  He looked back at Harthedir, “I told you everything would be good, my lord said as much!”

Harthedir looked at Eirik and remembered what it was like to be that young, to have such hope and faith.  In truth, Eirik had been right. He gazed on the White Tree and felt hope welling again within him.  Joy had flown in with the Eagles and he would remember that moment of bliss to the ending of his days.  Days that would no longer foreshadow doom but hope and a promise of peace.  He smiled at Eirik, “You were right and I was wrong to doubt.”  He ruffled the tousled brown curls, “Now be off with you, or the Lord Faramir will wonder what has happened to his squire!” Eirik bid him farewell, hand on heart and scampered off to his Lord.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Faramir had been working these last weeks of Spring making the City ready for the coming of the King.  He had never really been privy to the inner workings of the City as he had never been in his father’s consul.  He had never been trusted enough for the responsibility.  Boromir had been the son who was to succeed.  He paused for a moment as an unbidden wave of sadness fell over him.  It was a pain that he knew that he had learn to live with and to learn from.   His father and his brother.  Both so very important in his life for very different reasons and yet in their own ways shaped who Faramir was.   Mithrandir was right.  His father did love him and he did remember in the end.  The end, he still shuddered at what that end was.  He had seen it all through the skewed prism of the Black Shadow, a vision only given to torment him rather than give him any comfort.  Granted, to have lived through it was horrifying, but also a small portion of his soul was salved in a way.  He saw his father’s love for him, in the end.  However he was granted that knowledge, it was part of him now and might eventually help him to come to understand his father, may be just a little.  His mother knew and she had him promise to remember; a child’s promise that had held a man’s heart.  He sighed, sat back in his chair of rosewood and black velvet, at its head the embroidered tree and seven stars, and rubbed his face with both hands; resting his chin on his fingertips. 

A piercing pain lanced the heart as he thought of his beloved brother, the torment of his last days; the valor with which he met his end, desperately defending both Merry and Pippin. Pippin told him of their last moments with him.  Both Hobbits were near and dear to his heart; without Boromir he would never have known them.  A brother’s last gift, perhaps.  Boromir died defending those he held dear.  That is how Faramir would choose to remember his beloved brother.  He could not think of the other story that Sam had related; that hurt too much.  He was not strong enough to face that just yet, but one day perhaps he would.

Faramir threw his pen down.  He was going to get no more work done today; his feelings were in such a jumble.  He reached for his goblet of Dorwinian vintage and savoured the sweet, yet lightly tart liquid as it gently coursed down his throat.  He looked around the room with somber eyes.  The Steward's study. Many a time had he been called here to account for some perceived wrong or fault as a young child, even as a young man. At the spot in front of the desk where he now sat he had stood trying to stammer out an explanation for his latest grievous fault. His memories of this room were not happy ones but this was the office of the Steward, time out of mind, so here he must sit and deal with the memories of the past and the challenges of the present in equal measure.  He took another sip of the wine to ease his jangled nerves, when came a knock at the door to the study. The slight noise went straight though him as his exposed feelings had yet to calm themselves and he spilled just a little wine on a parchment as he called out, “Come!” As he was dabbing up the excess wine, Eirik announced, “The Master Warden of the Houses of Healing.”

Faramir stood up quickly and his hand knocking over the last dregs that were in the cup.  “Damn it!"  "Master Warden—" His first thoughts flew to Eowyn. then, "Eirik, would you be so kind as to clean this mess I seem to have made.”

“At once, My Lord.” Eirik sprang into action, shooing his lord from behind the desk.

The Warden was amused to view Faramir’s clumsiness, it was unusual in him.  After the normal spate of clumsiness that seems to inhabit all young boys growing into men, he was really quite graceful except when he was emotional, troubled or flustered, then….The Warden raised an eyebrow.

“What can I do for you?”  He paused, a worry brow furrowed across his forehead, “Is it Eowyn?” he asked with unease.  The Warden eyes belied his concern and the truth of Faramir’s guess. “What is it, Master Warden?  For you worry me with your pausing.”

The Warden’s eyes turned kindly, worrying Faramir even more, “She is uneasy, My lord.  Saddened again.  She seemed to grow happy just we learned of the victory at Mt. Doom but now that Merry has gone to the Field of Cormallen to be with his kin she grows sad.”  He paused, seemingly uncertain how to proceed, “I, perchance saw a missive,” he continued, “written by, as I saw, by her brother, Eomer King, asking again that she come to the Field of Cormallen to be with him.  I did not pry, My Lord.  I brought her the missive and at first she was quite gladdened.  But upon reading it her mood changed swiftly and she ran quite away from the garden and let the letter fall.  Concerned, I picked it up and found the contents as I related.  Do you know what might have upset her so, My lord?”  The warden looked up and saw the most indescribable look on Faramir’s face.  Troubled, resigned longing, hurt and utmost concern were all written on his face.

“I must see her, I have left her alone far too long.”  He made for the door eyes ablaze with intense longing.   He left without giving thought to anything else, leaving the Warden and Eirik looking at each other in tenuous amazement.  The Warden nodded to Eirik and retraced his own path back to the Houses of Healing.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Faramir nearly ran the up the path to the Houses of Healing, ignoring all else in his wake.  His heart was beating in his throat.  Pale blue eyes sat before his eyes and a pair of hands, the hands of the King.  Who had brought life.  But it seems that he was robbing it of Eowyn, or at least she felt he was.  Faramir closed his eyes as he arrived at the door to the Houses.  He drew a steadying breath and opened the door.  He knew where she was; where she always was.  In the garden looking East.  He approached quietly, as one might approach a skittish little bird who might take flight at the slightest movement.  He caught her in profile and was struck once again by her beauty, but also again by her sadness.

He drew near, “My Lady,” he gently spoke, “Why yet are you sad again?  The world rejoices and yet you are sad.”

Eowyn looked upon the kind, gentle face of a friend, and turned away.

Faramir, undeterred began again, “Why have you not gone when bidden to the Field of Cormallen?” he gently inquired.  Close enough to smell her fragrance of flowers and spring but yet he did not touch her.

“Do not you know?” came the reply full of portent and sadness.

“I know of one reason and I hope for another.”

“Speak more plainly, I have no use for riddles!”

“Then I will speak plain.  You don’t go because it is only your brother who calls and not the Lord Aragorn.  You saw in him all that you could wish in a man.  Strong, valiant, a leader and so he is.  The one who heals and gives life.  He is all those things.  I should know.  He gave me life as well.  But while you looked with the eyes of love; he only looked with the eyes of pity.  Or you stay because I do not go,” he ventured, putting his heart out on display, to be taken up or smashed into pieces, “because you still wish to be near me.”

While Faramir had been speaking, Eowyn had been looking into the distance.  Her back was ramrod straight and she held herself as if she were ready to do battle.  At Faramir’s last words, she turned to look daggers at him for his presumption to speak such things, but when she met his gentle, blue eyes again her breath was taken away by such a look of love and longing.  She stilled, looking into his eyes.  In a voice full of emotion Faramir whispered, “Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart.  At first my heart was moved to pity by your sadness.  I sought to heal a hurt I recognized as deep as my own.” Faramir reached a hand to gently stroke her fair, lightly freckled cheek, “But it became more than that.  Your bravery, your spirit.  If you had no sadness and were the Queen of all, I would love you.  I do love you! Can you not love me?  Do you not love me?”

Eowyn looked into the eyes of this wonderful, kind and gentle man and it was as if a light finally broken through the clouds that had surrounded her.  She could see him for all that he was and all that she had always wanted.  She knew that now.  Her eyes shone as if lit from within, “Yes! Faramir, Son of Gondor. I do love you!  I love you!”

Faramir’s heart burst into a thousand little bright stars as he gazed into her eyes hearing the words he never thought he would hear, that he had never thought he was worthy of hearing.  He leant down and kissed her there on the balcony of the Houses of Healing overlooking the City, there for all to see and not caring who saw. 

The Warden had watched from the doorway not wishing to intrude but also wishing to see the two hearts healed.  It did his battered soul a great deal of good.  To see these two lost souls find each other salved his healer’s heart.

The City saw their Lord Faramir kissing the White Lady of Rohan and they rejoiced for he was a favorite of the City.  Joy struck the hearts of those who saw the kiss.

Faramir looked at his lady.  His heart had found the shelter it had always searched for in Eowyn’s arms.  He was home.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~

Finished!  Hope all who read it enjoyed it.  I really enjoyed writing it!  😊 A/N: Again I will say that throughout this story I have used lines from the Book or Films but did not specifically mark them as I have in the past, this time I felt it interrupted the flow of the story.  But again I wanted to acknowledge they are in the story





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