Chapter 41- Recognizing the Light.
Alyrin sat in the small room the Master Healer used as an office, “I think Éowyn should attend with me along my rounds. It took her completely out of herself when she tended Leoulfwine. It is what she needs.”
Master Warden sat listening to his apprentice healer, musing on her perception and caring towards all her patients, but especially Lady Éowyn. “There is truth in what you say. I saw that myself when attending the lad.” He then added, “She has an ability to put people at their ease and that is innate. Nobody taught her that.” He saw the fervor and dedication with which she tended the boy.
Alyrin nodded, “So can I propose this idea to her?”
“Yes, but” he paused, “Can I ask you to wait a day or so?”
Alyrin answered, “Yes,” then she saw a gleam in the Master’s eyes, “but may I ask why?”
Master Warden pursed his lips before answering, “Because while your idea has much merit, I want Éowyn to have some time to reflect, to pause before she becomes enrapt with new duties.” The warden was thinking of not just one but two good lost souls. He had known Faramir since he was a child and had always harbored the notion that he would have made a fine healer had life allowed him another path other than that of the Steward’s son. Not that Denethor has ever appreciated his second son. He stopped that line of thinking as it was uncharitable to think ill of the dead. He wanted happiness for the soft-hearted boy he remembered and the good, fine man he had become and after seeing Faramir open his heart to the Lady of Rohan in a way he had never seen before; he had hopes that Lady Éowyn would bring that happiness. And from the short space of time he had known Éowyn, he believed that Faramir could be the healing presence she so desperately needed. “It is not only the body that we heal here, Alyrin. I know you know this as well.”
Alyrin looked at her mentor, a light dawning, “She needs time, though.”
“And that is what we will give her.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Éowyn left Leoulfwine’s room, her morning visit lightening her heart that he would recover. She thought of his grandfather, a weight was lifted from her shoulders. One more heart that would be spared the torment of losing a beloved one. At this point even one heart saved counted as a victory when so much had been lost already in this tragedy writ across countries.
She gathered Faramir’s mother’s cloak about her as she went to the garden to meet with Faramir at the time that had become habit in the short space they had known each other. Faramir was there already, and he turned as he heard the rustle of fabric. She was greeted by warm blue eyes and a gentle smile that found its way through to her heart, there to find a less guarded welcome with each smile.
“How is Leoulfwine?” Faramir asked.
“Starting to chafe against healer’s orders! Master Warden wants him to stay in bed another day or so, but he says he is fine!”
Faramir chuckled, “It is truly a mystery how young boys make it to the coming of Age with all the chances they take.”
Éowyn smiled thinking of Éomer and his reckless youth and more times than not she was right behind him. Worry for Éomer flared but she pushed it aside. Worry for another flared as well but that she really could not think about. To distract herself, she asked, “So what “reckless” behaviour did you risk before gaining manhood?”
Faramir looked east to the sunrise, “Me?” he scoffed. “I wasn’t allowed to. I was the steward’s son. I was of the House of Mardil and we did not get up to such behaviour,” His voice took on a mocking, almost bitter tone.
Éowyn, remembering what Alyrin had said about Faramir’s relationship with his father, felt a pang of fellow feeling and touched his hand on the railing in sympathy and commiseration. For her whole life had been one of being told she had to behave in more “Ladylike” ways by most of the court. Her uncle had understood but even then, though well-meaning and done out of love she had still been deceived and was never expected to fulfill the life she dreamt of and worked towards.
Faramir realised how much he had let slip and was at first embarrassed to have shown so much disappointment and cynicism. He braced for rebuke which had always been the response to any sort of negative emotion, considered to be complaining by his father. But Éowyn’s commiserating hand on his was a thunderbolt to his senses. He wanted her to know how much it meant to him, but he did not think she was ready. He squeezed her hand wanting to do so much more. When she did not immediately pull away his heart soared; and he told himself to live in the moment, to take what little that joy was offering him.
All was in stillness. And then it was not. A waking dream sat in front of Faramir’s eyes. 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?” Éowyn said, still clasping his hands.
“It was a dream I had, have had many times. The world covered by darkness, a darkness unescapable,”
Éowyn 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 who 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 Éowyn, 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.”
Éowyn 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 Houses proper, where he, too, had taken up residence the better to serve Faramir in whatever he might need. He came 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 Éowyn 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.
Éowyn, 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.” Éowyn reflected upon the mother that he did not have and yet he understood another’s need and fulfilled it. The joy in her heart saw another small piece of the wall around it dissolve.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Joy abounded in the City. The absence of hope, the malaise that had pervaded Minas Tirith, insidiously infecting all aspects of life, was marked in the heart by joy’s return. Hopelessness had seeped into the very stones of the City, unnoticed and unmarked for many years, until the mountain collapsed and hope and joy once again filled the void it had left.
Éowyn felt lighter and happier than she had in a very long time. Merry was gaining in health and strength and that gladden her heart greatly. But then he was called to the Field of Cormallen there to meet up with Pippin. Leoulfwine was also recovering and regaining his formerly lost loquaciousness. Háling was bearing up as well as could be expected under the circumstances. She smiled as she thought of the two unlikely roommates.
“My lady smiles,” Faramir quipped, “And what has caused this mirth!” Éowyn side glanced him, a sight that was becoming more and more welcomed in her heart. He had been a steadfast friend. To more, she would not admit to.
“I was just musing that though they are friends Háling and Leoulfwine sharing lodgings together is not a match I would ever have seen.”
Faramir smiled, “One too messy, one too neat? That would have described Boromir and myself.” A shadow of remembrance crossed his face. Éowyn erased that with a gentle touch of her hand. He looked upon her with such longing.
Éowyn looked away to the east, still unable to receive that which Faramir was offering so freely.
“I am to leave the Houses of Healing soon, to take my place in the Citadel.”
Éowyn looked back at Faramir, fear written across her face, “Why? Why must you go? Merry has left to go to the Fields of Cormallen. You are now leaving for the Citadel. Once again all are called. All have purpose!” But me. She finished in her head. She felt her world splintering apart. Left once again.
Faramir looked upon her, his heart riven by the fear upon her face. He took up her hands and gently held them, “I go not to war but only to the Citadel,” misreading her fear, “Healed now, I must return to take up my place as Steward of the City, if only to prepare for the King’s return.”
At the mention of Aragorn, Éowyn withdrew into herself and turned to look eastward. Feelings of shame, of possibilities, of what could have been or could still be ripped through her though in her heart. She stopped herself; she knew nothing had been possible. And she had no strength to face the amount of change that was being wrought upon her. She had achieved a tenuous balance or at least existence in these houses and once again it was being torn away. She looked at Faramir and could feel herself withdrawing even further. She stated with formality, all her fallback retreat. “I wish you well. I have enjoyed our time together. See to your duties. They are very important.” She regally bowed and departed leaving Faramir to stand looking after her.
~*~*~*~*~*~
She returned to her room and saw a missive laid on the breakfasting table. At first, she was happy seeing her brother's hand and knowing that meant that he lived. She perused the contents and then her happiness faded away. She looked again at her brother’s sprawling but strong hand, her emotions roiling about her as she sat at the window.
Alyrin noted Éowyn’s absence at midday meal and decided to seek her out. She found her sitting at her window facing east. She noticed a stillness about her that was reminiscent of her first days in the Houses. She approached her friend. “Éowyn, you were missed at midday meal…”
“I am sorry my friend, I was not hungry.” Éowyn stated in a quiet voice.
“Éowyn, what is wrong?” Alyrin stated in her direct no nonsense way.
Nothing. Everything. Éowyn thought. “Faramir is leaving,” A truth she could not see her way through to slipped from her tongue before she could stop it.
“Yes,” Alyrin affirmed, matter-of-factly. “He must take up the Stewardship of the City. And make ready for the King’s return.”
Éowyn closed her eyes. Aragorn. A tear slipped her eye, and she gathered up her knees to her chest and the letter that had been in her lap dropped to the floor. Alyrin watched it drop. She picked it up, concern for her friend flaring within.
“May I?” she enquired of Éowyn, seeking permission to read the letter.
“Aye, I have no secrets…” she stated in a lifeless voice.
Alyrin perused the letter, “Éomer is asking for you to join him at the Field of Cormallen? Do you not want to go?”
“He is asking, but no other…” Éowyn stated.
Alyrin blinked and then remembered. The King. In their many conversations Éowyn had mentioned Aragorn, more than mentioned him if Alyrin were honest. She now knew why her friend was distraught, “Why do you not go?” Éowyn sat at the sill and breathed deeply, trying not to cry tears that she knew were silly and self-indulgent. “You could see him.”
“And do what? He is promised to another.” Alyrin stood near her friend at a loss. She had no time for love or at least love had no time for her. Regardless, she was following a path towards healing and that took all her time. Éowyn looked at her friend throwing her shoulders back and trying once again to pick up and go on. But she was so tired of it all. “Oh Alyrin! I envy you so much. You are yourself. You are who you want to be, doing what you want do!” she ended with frustration.
Alyrin ached for her friend and the conversation she had had with the Master Healer came to mind. “I cannot will missives from the Field of Cormallen to arrive,” she paused, nor can I stop Faramir from leaving the Houses to take up his position. She did not voice that thought however. She had seen the way Éowyn and Faramir were together and how he looked at her when she was not looking. But somehow she knew that Éowyn would not or could not see her way through to that reality. “But I was talking to the Master Healer and he thinks that you could help here in the Houses. He thinks you have a natural touch after the way you looked after Leoulfwine and we could use an extra pair of hands. What do you think?”
Éowyn looked as if a lifeline had been thrown to her, “Aye! I believe I would love to help, if I could be useful?”
~*~*~*~*~*~
The Master Warden was reading through a new treatise on healing that a fellow healer in Lossenarch had sent him when he heard a knock on his door. “Come!” He set down the cup of spiced wine that always aided in his comprehension of new reading, or so he told himself. He looked up and saw Éowyn enter. “Welcome, My Lady! Thank you for answering so promptly.”
Éowyn gave a chagrined smile, “It’s not as if I could not fit it into my busy schedule!”
The Warden smiled warmly. “That is what I have called you here for.” He paused to refill his goblet and one for Éowyn,”I need your help.” He said as he handed her the ceramic goblet, “My staff is tired and overworked. Tired and overworked leads to things being missed. Your young friend is an example of that. I know that you have not had formal training, but you have an innate ability that cannot be taught, you care and you put people at their ease.”
Éowyn deferred, “Oh I don’t know about that. I just listen.”
“Precisely, you would be surprised at how many people don’t.” The warden sensed a restlessness within her that he hoped he could help with. It was no lie; his people after the battle had been overworked and needed an extra set of hands to lighten the load. “I want you to start by following Alyrin on her rounds and see what she does and how you can help.”
Éowyn nodded, “Thank you!”
“No, thank you! This will be a great relief.”
Over the next few weeks Éowyn fell into the routine of daily rounds. Helping where she could, learning all the time. She and Alyrin would at the end of the day discussing what they had done over more tea and what was to be done the next day. She went to sleep that first week too tired to even dream, which was a blessing in and of itself. She had no time to think of missives not received, but through it all she did miss Faramir. She missed his gentle, steady presence. She missed his smile. She had not seen him since he had left the Houses to take up residence in the Citadel. Since, she remembered, she had so peremptorily dismissed him that day in the garden when he told her that he would be leaving. He had come to say goodbye the next morning. She had actually said that it would be good that they spend some time apart and that they would both be busy with their separate duties. He, at the Citadel and she looking after the wounded in the Houses. She could not get the hurt look in his deep blue eyes out of her mind when she had said that. As a result, she threw herself into work evermore each day but to no avail; their parting still weighed on her.
~*~*~*~*~*~
After leaving the Houses of Healing Faramir had been working hard the first 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 to 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 tha t end was. He had seen it all through the skewed prism of the Black Breath, 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, maybe 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 through 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, his hand knocking over the last dregs that were in the cup. “Damn it!" "Master Warden—" His first thoughts flew to Éowyn. 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 Éowyn?” he asked with unease. The Warden's 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.” He paused, seemingly uncertain how to proceed, “I, perchance saw a missive, just recently.” he continued, “written by, as I saw, by her brother, Éomer 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. It seemed to be the second time he had asked her to come to the Field. Concerned, I picked it up and found the contents as I just 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 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 Éowyn, 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. The Warden said she had been tending the wounded. But he found her taking a few moments break 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.”
Éowyn 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, Éowyn 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 of 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?”
Éowyn looked deep into the eyes of this wonderful, kind and gentle man and it was as if a light had 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 but never thought was possible. Holdlith’s words from years past sprung to mind, “You will know great happiness and there will be a great love in your life. Eyes that have seen much and will have known their own pain will bring you to happiness.” 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.
They both recognized the Light in each other, although Éowyn's shell of frustration and anger had held her heart in chains longer, but they dissolved under Faramir’s patient love.
Éowyn looked into Faramir’s eyes and all the pain and doubt of these past years simply faded away. She saw herself in his eyes but not in a way that she had always feared, as a pale reflection, but as someone who was finally seen as she truly was. Her path had brought her home. She was at peace.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Notes:
Finished! After five years and 41 chapters! 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. Faramir and Éowyn's story continues in "Leaving Home; Coming Home."