Ch. 39 – And they walked and waited…

Éowyn left the garden.  Her meeting with the Lord Faramir had completely flummoxed her.  She did not know what to feel.  She sat in her borrowed dress at her window and let the small amount of breeze soothe her roiling emotions.  From quiet desperation to immense stress and trauma to this quiet existence away from all whom she loved and then to meet a man of such qualities, completely unlooked for.   She did not know what to think.  She was still there when Alyrin came to check in on her later that day when she brought her the midday meal.

Setting the tray down Alyrin looked at Éowyn expectantly, “Well did you speak to the Master?”

“Aye,” came the one word answer.  Éowyn looked stunned and confused.

“Éowyn?”  Alyrin started, alarm starting to settle in, “What happened?  Was he unkind to you?”  Alyrin could not fathom that that was the case, knowing the Master as she did.  But something definitely happened.

Éowyn looked up at her friend, “No, he was very kind.”

Alyrin visibly relaxed, “Well, then.  What happened?”

Éowyn paused then, and stated, “He took me to speak with the Lord Faramir?”

“Oh, I have only met him in passing but he would visit Master Healer now and again when he was in Minas Tirith. He is known to be a kind man.” Alyrin said and then added. “Not like his father, I hear.”

Éowyn turned and slipped a little from the trance she seemed to be under, “What do you mean, unlike his father?”

“Well now,” Alyrin regretted the slip now, “It is only what I have heard.  It might only be gossip but theirs was a strange relationship.  He lost his mother early on, when he was really young and his father preferred his brother over him.  Could not stand to look on him.  It is said because he favoured his mum.  The other healers will not hear a word against Lord Faramir.  They blame his father.”

Éowyn thought of those gentle blue eyes and could not understand how anyone could be cruel to him.  She felt a kinship with him both having lost their mothers early in life.  She reflected on what he said.  She was still so confused.  She was not used to compliments, sincere ones at least.  Many praised her beauty when trying to curry favour with Théoden King knowing that he doted on his niece.  It was easier to disbelieve.  But then she remembered blue eyes that had no reason to dissemble.  And she was speechless.

~*~*~*~*~*~
 

True to his word Faramir arranged for Éowyn to switch her room to the side that faced east.  She retreated after evening meal to her new room.  Alyrin helped her move what little she had and gave her the use of the dark green dress along with her second best dress, a white wool woven with different patterns running through the fabric; Alyrin’s mother must be a master weaver, Éowyn thought, to achieve these effects.  She reflected on her own weaving efforts and much to dear old Guthhild’s consternation it was never as it should have looked.  She and the womanly arts had never kept close company.  Éowyn protested about the dresses but Alyrin insisted.  “It will make my mum so happy to know her efforts are not wasted.  I only ever wear smocks and aprons!”  Éowyn gave in and accepted the second dress as well which was almost as elegant as the first.  Also, Alyrin began with a conspiratorial air, “I have brought a visitor!”  Éowyn looked at her curiously.  In the doorway appeared a brown, curly-headed moptop,  “Merry!”  Éowyn exclaimed.  He appeared fit and healthy.  Éowyn ran to him and enveloped him in a hug.  She would have swung him around had her arm not been in a sling.

“Oh my friend, are you well?  Please tell me you are well!” she said as she pulled away to look the dear hobbit in the eyes.  She saw happiness and something she recognised in her heart.  He had been touched by the Breath as well.

Merry said in his hobbit way, “I am fine, my lady.  Nothing to worry about with this hobbit.  We are tougher than we look.”

Éowyn looked at her friend, “Are you?  Or are you just saying that for my benefit?”  She looked into Merry’s blue eyes deeply.

“Well,” he admitted honestly, “I am better than I was and have hope to be even better soon.” 

Éowyn smiled at her friend, “I am so very glad to hear it!  And thank you for coming to my aid.”

“I would die for you, My Lady.”

Éowyn stared at Merry after his earnest protestation, “Well,” she stumbled out, “You almost did.  Please do not do that again.  I do not believe my heart would survive should you.”

“Aye, My Lady.”  Merry nodded, a little subdued after his admission.

Seeing her friend with such a subdued look on his face, Éowyn knelt in front of him.  “I was honoured by your actions, my friend.  And I believe we have both been paid for our courage have we not?”

At first Merry was unsure of what she spoke but then he looked deep in her eyes and saw a remnant of Shadow.  Struck to the heart that she should have suffered as he did, he started, “Oh, My Lady!”

“Shh-shh!  We will not speak of it. We pick up and move on.  At least we are here together.  We have both come through the fire, little singed perhaps, but here all the same.”  Merry looked at the stern, resolute look that was cast over her face and he loved her even more.  He tried to mirror her resolve but secretly wondered if he would ever be truly free of the memory.

Alyrin stood watching this moment and then stood not watching for some feelings are difficult to share and certainly not with the uninitiated.  Éowyn spoke, “Alyrin! I’m so sorry!  We speak of things that are best not remembered.”

“This is a place of healing, where better to remember so that they can be eased.” Alyrin smiled as she handed Éowyn a cup of wine.  “And for you, Master Merry, alas the ale stores have yet to be replenished but will wine suffice?”

“Always, My lady.”  Merry stated, “We hobbits are an adaptable lot!”

Éowyn quickly agreed, “A more sturdy people I have yet to meet!”

“I am coming to realise that!” Alyrin affirmed, “And Merry, I am not a lady.  Just Alyrin.” 

“You are to me!  You bring healing and happiness.  There is nothing more noble.” Merry stated in his earnest way.  Alyrin blushed.  Merry then brought out his pipe and they settled in for a convivial time spent in each other’s company, a few precious moments set aside from war and memory.

~*~*~*~*~*~

After Éowyn had departed, Faramir stayed in the garden trying to make some sense of what had just happened.  While he was convivial to all those he met, never had he felt such a connection with another.  Her pain, his pity, her beauty stunned him.  He had no words for his feelings.  All his life he had been alone, except for Boromir and tragically he had been taken from him.  And then he looked into a pair of blue eyes that carried sorrow and regret.  He was drawn to her.   Faramir sought out the Warden to learn more of Éowyn of Rohan.  His heart pierced and his mind intrigued, he needed to know more.  The Warden suggested he speak with Merry the Perrianath.

He and the perrianath Merry sat upon the bench in the garden where Faramir first met Éowyn.  

“And then it was she that dealt the Killing stroke to the Witch King of Angmar?”  Faramir questioned trying to make sense of what they had been speaking of.

At this Merry grew quiet and still, pipe momentarily dropped to his side, “She and I killed the Witch King.”  He intoned in a voice full of remembrance, so different from the bright and cheerful one he had had just moments before.  Faramir looked at Merry and the truth of his statement was written on the hobbit’s suddenly ashen face.  Unspoken horror ran fleetingly across Merry’s pleasant features and then it was gone. “It isn’t really something I can talk about at the present.”

“I understand,” replied Faramir, “More than I care to, but I do understand.” They looked at each other as only battle-worn veterans can, and a bond was shared.

They sat peaceably smoking pipes for several more minutes letting the present comforting aroma calm past horrors and hurts in as much as anything could. “Tell me about the White Lady, a-about Éowyn.” Faramir ventured the use of her given name and looked sidelong at Merry seeking permission to use her first name.  Merry seemed unperturbed at this liberty taken, Faramir looked upon this as tacit blessing. “Why did she ride to battle?  Why did she look for death?”  Why is there such hurt in her eyes, he thought but did not say.

Merry sighed, “I don’t know if I can rightly speak to all.  I don’t know if I know all.  But I do know that she loved Théoden as her father, though he is only her uncle—was only her uncle.”  He corrected himself slowly as if he were trying to make permanent that which his soul still did not wish to accept.  Merry thought of Théoden, kingly and yet considerate, and how they would never have that discussion of herb-lore he so desired.  His last words spoken to him on the battlefield.  He felt sad and almost put his pipe away until Aragorn’s words came to mind, “Smoke then and think of him!  For he was a gentle heart and a Great King.  It should be a memory glad and honorable to the end of your days.”  In honor of Théoden King, Merry took a full breath of smoke into his mouth and let it commingle with memory then drift away; the memory staying firmly in his heart.  He looked at Faramir.  “There had been much unhappiness in Edoras, I understand.  Much poisoning of Théoden by one he trusted.  Éowyn saw it all and could only stand and watch her uncle sink into doubt then decrepitude.  She could do nothing.  When the king’s mind was rescued and Helm’s Deep came, again she was not allowed to fight, she was sent to lead her people to Dunharrow their retreat in the hills, only to wait.  She felt doubted and stunted.”

“Put in a cage, so to speak.”  Faramir suggested thinking of the word that had slipped from Éowyn’s lips earlier.

Merry paused, “I suppose that is one way of putting it, yes.”  He continued, “During the muster we became each other’s champion and confidant, you see neither of us were supposed to be here. When Aragorn left the muster for the Path of the Dead, it seemed to really upset her.  They had grown close, and I guess she felt let down in some way.  She had come to depend on him.  She didn’t say much about it.  She just became grimmer and more determined than ever to join the host riding to Gondor’s aid.”

Faramir puffed on his pipe and pondered what Merry had said.  She was so different from any woman he knew.  Her valor, her sadness, they spoke to him.  He had known pain, grief, misunderstanding, doubt within his own life.  He could well see it hers.

“I will say one thing more,” Merry said looking straight at Faramir, “She is kindness itself.  She took me under her wing, protected and encouraged me when nobody else believed I could help this cause in my own way.  She didn’t have to do that; but she did.  I made her traveling more difficult due to my very presence.  She would sing to me at night to help me sleep.”  Merry paused here, “I would not see her hurt anymore.  If you can help her, I will be forever in your debt.”

Faramir held the hobbit’s earnest eyes for moments longer, “She is in my heart, Master Hobbit, I can only hope she will let me into hers.  I wish to ease her pain; if only she will allow me.”

Merry saw the truth of his words in his eyes.  He smiled then and sat back and drew a big puff on his pipe and coaxed a series of little smoke rings to gently float through the air.  And together they stayed puffing, sitting on the stone bench.  At evening Faramir had taken to the garden once again knowing from the Warden this was her habit after evening meal but Éowyn did not appear.  Given Merry’s words earlier, he knew perseverance was needed.  Hope was everything in these times; hope had been rekindled within him.  And now he could only try to give it new life within Éowyn.  He would be her lifeline, if only she would allow it.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning Éowyn felt she needed some fresh air and went to the balcony this eastern-sided room had.  Helped once again by Alyrin she wore the second best dress, the one of exquisite weaving with embroidery along the scoop neckline.  She stood at the balustrade for several moments, eyes shut, breathing in and breathing out.  She could feel herself relaxing, her shoulders falling back with each breath.  She looked down into the garden that her balcony overlooked and she saw a flash of light brownish blonde hair.  It was Faramir.  She looked up again, panic flaring in her heart.  Her breath held she was unsure what to do, retreat from view; stay where she was.  Éowyn had never backed away from any situation in her whole life.  She grabbed hold and made do with the consequences.  She had yet to decide her course of action when she looked down.  At that moment their eyes met and at first, she did want to run.  Romance.  Love.  She had never desired that.  She had looked upon marriage as another duty.  One that would rob her of her independence as happened to her friends.   She saw them change from vibrant young girls to either self-sacrificing women who seemed quite happy to subsume their lives into their husbands or self-satisfied matrons who had children and became complacent.  Or if she were honest she was afraid of marriage even before that because of what it did to her mother.  Within a year of her father’s death she and Éomer had lost her as well.  Her mother died of a broken heart.  She left them.  But what Faramir's eyes offered was beyond any of these experiences and when she attempted a tenuous wave she was rewarded with the brightest, warmest smile that began in small part to take down the wall she had constructed around her heart, seemingly whether she willed it or no. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Faramir was again in the garden at the balustrade and again looking East.  Something in his heart whispered to look behind instead.  Listening to his heart he looked up onto the balcony above and saw a vision in white, reddish blond hair gleaming. She looked down and saw Faramir's mesmerized gaze, she paused as if unsure and then gently smiled down upon him.  Faramir felt a gentle warmth envelop him and he called out, “My Lady, please come down and join me this morning.”  Éowyn hesitated and then disappeared from the balcony.  Faramir knew a moment of despair, then she came.  He smiled, extended his hand to Éowyn, “Come my lady, let us walk and keep each other company this bright morning!”  Éowyn smiled, allowing herself to step into this unknown and frankly scary world.  Her smile lit Faramir’s heart. And they walked and waited, together, as he promised they would.