Chapter 6: The Light

Mirkwood is different from Firien Wood and it is full of different creatures. Éowyn's jaw drops in awe as they travel towards Thranduil's Halls. She lags behind the pack and almost loses her way, if not for Théoden's howl up ahead to call her back. It is late winter so she happily rolls in the snow.

When they reach the Halls in the evening they receive a warm welcome from the elves. They are given clothes after they transform back into human forms and she is given a white dress which she slips into it with ease. She has lost weights in the past months and Théodred takes every opportunity to feed her.

"It matches you beautifully," Legolas praises as they hug tightly. The elf has visited her during her recovery. "Come! Gimli and the hobbits are drinking already!"

Éowyn laughs wholeheartedly as she is carried into the caves by the elf. A merry celebration is going on when they arrive at the vast cave system. Gandalf is there show his magic tricks, a dragon flying between stone pillars. Legolas leads her down the path to a large stone platform where the gathered crowd is enjoying the feast and music. It's been many years she has seen to such a happy banquet. The last time she was too sorrowful to participate. Seeing hobbits, elves, dwarfs and werewolves drinking and singing joyously together, her spirit is lifted.

"Let me down!" She urges Legolas when Frodo and Sam spot them. The two hobbits run to her and shove a bottle of ale in her hand. "You are late." Frodo jokes as they hold her elbow and guide her to one of the tables.

The group consists of familiar faces. Gimli slams his fist on the table and shouts. "I challenge you!"

Legolas willingly accepts. "It's a losing battle for you." And Pippin and Merry gladly fill their cups when empty. Éowyn sips and watches with amusement. This is the first time she travels after recovery. She flizzens with the hobbits when Gimli drinks messily.

"Your beard drinks it all!" The elf protests. Five cups in and he is still standing.

"What nonsense are you accusing me of?" The dwarf scowls and downs another cup. His clothes wet as beer is spilt from the tilted cup.

Frodo has to shout in her ear because of the noisy bliss. "How are you doing?"

She puts her arm around his shoulder. The hobbit has been texting her every day since she has gotten back her phone. "Much better now, still a bit sore though."

The group erupts in laughter when Gimli slips off from his seat, too drunk to uphold himself. Legolas hurries to get him back up, the dwarf is mumbling coherently. She snickers; the pair always makes her laugh. She misses them dearly.

Since she has been in solitary for her recovery, she is eager to get updated about her friends. Pippin and Merry are back to university, Frodo hires them as part-time to share his burden of the grocery store. Sam is going to have another baby and the group congratulates him by forcing more drinks into his belly. Gimli and Legolas finally make up plans to travel around Middle-earth by bicycles, which they have spoken about for almost fifty years, according to Sam.

"Are you riding on a kids' bike then?" She inquires innocently.

"What!" The dwarf is offended by her question. He huffs angrily. "Have you seen my legs? They are long enough to reach the pedals!"

Legolas says as he drinks. "No, you don't."

"Shut up you wicked elf!"

The night Éowyn grins until her face hurts. After a few hours, she needs to get some fresh air so she excuses herself from the group. She bumps into several people. More have just arrived at the Halls for the celebration. Eventually, after some struggles, she walks back to the forest.

She strolls along the treeline and picks a reclusive spot not far away with a view to the entrance, so that if her friends and family come looking for her she would know. She leans against the tree and feels the moonlight's touch. It is gentle on her pale, freckled face. Just like…

Her nose picks up the scent. She looks at her left and finds him right away.

Faramir is wandering among the trees, dresses in black shirt and jeans. Like a lone wolf he walks mindlessly, head low in sorrow and melancholy. He seems deep in contemplation until he also finds a familiar scent. His head bobs up and their eyes lock.

She shudders; the Gondorian has not responded to her texts and calls for months. The only thing she knows is that he needs time alone to deal with his injury. She has been worried but he refuses to answer her messages and has Boromir to tell her he is not available.

Their relationship has been built upon lies. She wonders if it is one of the reasons he withdraws. Although they have been through hell together, the break of trust is difficult to recover.

Just as she is thinking about what she should do, Faramir starts walking cautiously towards her. She lowers her head, heart jumping fast because of anxiety. She cannot anticipate what he is going to say.

"You look unworldly in this dress." He stops a few steps away, leaning against a tree by his side. His face is in the shadow but his eyes shine like stars.

"Thank you." She tugs a shy smile at his compliment.

"Why are you not celebrating?"

"I drank too much and I need some air. What about you?"

"I wanted to join but it is too noisy for my liking."

He is lying. Now that she knows the truth that they have been both keeping secrets when they first met, it is easy to tell when he lies. He is a terrible liar.

"Tell me what happened." She implores lowly.

Faramir opens his mouth but no word comes. "I guess I can't lie to you any longer. Can I?" He jokes with a forced smile. "From the beginning?"

"If you will."

The shadow shakes by the wind and reveals his face under the moonlight for a brief moment. There are dark circles under his eyes. Slowly he begins. "When I first met you in the Firien Wood, I didn't think you were a werewolf. But then Shepherd called you Éowyn and I recalled hearing it somewhere before: a long time ago my father spoke of an omega being presented in the Rohirrim and that's your name. I thought it a coincidence. After all, you didn't smell like one."

"I was on suppressant. Still am, but Gandalf makes it much weaker so that my body can take it."

"That's good." He smiles at the information but then he is on alarm. "Has your body not fully healed?"

The very first thought is to lie. Éowyn doesn't want him to worry. However, under his pleading eyes, she tells him. "The elven healers have helped but the scars remain. I get sick every time I transform into a wolf. The past few months I have vomited so many times that I lose count." Faramir steps forwards, a hand lifts in the air like he wants to touch her, yet retreats back into the shadow when he thinks it improper.

She decides it is not the time to talk of herself. "What did I do that you realise I am a werewolf?"

He chuckles at her avoidance and goes with her flow. "The way you speak of your family and how you behave. I had my suspicion. It matches with what I know of the Rohirrim pack. Do you remember I kissed your cheek in Minas Tirith?"

She smiles at the memory and nods.

"Being so close, I caught your true scent. It was a whiff but I caught it."

"Yet you said nothing. Why did you not reveal yourself to me?" She asks. If she knew he is also a werewolf, everything would be much easier.

"Because you didn't want to me to be," Faramir says sadly. "You have been struggling in our world and you want an escape. Being in love with a human is your ticket out."

His words shock her because it is true. Éowyn suddenly realises deep down she sees him as a way to leave the oppressive supernatural world behind. The signs are so obvious and everything clicks. In Minas Tirith, Thorin and Beregond's wife were acting strange. She once thought it was just because of him living there in his youth. No. She shakes her head. She has been denying the truth because it is better if she doesn't know. She is so stupid and blinded.

"I am sorry," she chokes, thinking she has hurt him. He probably thinks she only loves him because of that. "But I wasn't lying in Rivendell. My heart already falls for you. You are gentle and caring. No one understands me, yet you do."

She braves herself and strides towards him. Faramir tries to evade but his face is sought by her soft hands. "I love you, Faramir, human or werewolf." She tips her toes to kiss him, yet he swiftly pushes her shoulders and turns his head away. His eyes shut in pain.

"I can't, Éowyn. I can't!"

Her heart aches at his throaty voice. He seems to be in great agony. "Are you hurt?" She asks nervously.

Faramir reverses and almost trips over the exposed roots on the ground. She reaches out to catch his hand but he snaps at her. "Don't get any closer!" He sounds awfully anxious and scared. "I can't be with you."

"Why?" She can't watch him suffer. Her body is crying for him.

"I am not what I was." He frets, tears threatening to fall. "The summoning spell has changed me."

"In what way?"

"He hasn't failed, Éowyn."

He hasn't failed? A dread ties knot in her stomach.

His mouth trembles and tears roll down his bloodless cheeks. "Although Gandalf had sent a wave of magic to interrupt the spell, the connection has already been created." In despair, he whimpers. "He has no control over my body but I can hear his venomous whispers in my head. He plagues my waking moments and my dreams."

Éowyn rushes to embrace him when he collapses onto the ground in hurt and grief. Faramir cries on her shoulder, clenching onto her like a man holding onto a piece of wood in the raging sea. She can't believe this is real. Why does it come to be like this? Physically injuries can be healed, but with the mind…

His tears wet her dress. His voice is muffled. "He is killing me: all the vile words he spits at me! If you can hear him right now…!"

Her back is hurt by his nails but she doesn't care. She only wants to comfort him. It breaks her heart to see him in pain. "Has Gandalf found a way to break the connection? There has to be." She cries with him, thinking that it is unfair. Faramir has had a tough life and why would the Valar be so cruel to make him suffer? She soothes his back and his hair, at loss of what she can do to assuage his anguish.

"He is trying but the progress is slow." He gulps, somewhat calms down as he is in her arms. "It takes all my willpower to fight him. I am scared that one day I won't be able to, then I will hurt you and everyone around me."

She kisses his temple. "Do you remember how you fought against your instinct as a wolf when we were in the dungeon? I believe in your kind and gentle soul. You have taught me to have hope." He lifts his head from her shoulder; she smiles at him tenderly. "And I know we can fight him. Gandalf will find a way to banish him away from your mind and I will be with you the whole way." She strokes his stubbled jaw and kisses him.

As their lips connect, the voice of Sauron vanishes. He was cursing in his head and the next second he is gone. The air is still for the following minutes, then he pulls away and touches her face, eyes widen in disbelief, wonder and awe. For once, his head is clear of the filthy soul that shadows his thoughts for weeks.

Éowyn doesn't know so she beseeches again. "Please don't push me away."

He doesn't believe miracles before but she saves him from the talons of Sauron. Her presence calms him like moonlight. He cups her face and kisses her again. She purrs at the softness of his lips.

"You chase him away, my dear wolf." He whispers, caressing her jaw once they separate from each other. He is willing to drown himself in her bottomless grey eyes that are full of love.

He chuckles because this is surreal. Gandalf has spent months trying to find a spell and yet it is a kiss that defeats Sauron. He sees her frowning, confused about what has happened.

"Your kiss saves me, Éowyn."

Éowyn is stunned and she whispers. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." He nods and welcomes it when she happily throws her arms around him. In joy, they laugh and he pulls her up from the ground. They walk out from the canopy and let the moonlight shine over them.

Faramir tugs her into his arms and he smiles at her. "You are my light. You saved me from the darkness."

She gently grips on his shoulders, thumbs feeling the healed scars through the shirt. "If this is a dream, I hope I would never wake up."

He closes the distance so that there is no gap between their bodies and they can feel each other's heartbeats. They sway lightly like they are slow dancing in the middle of the forest.

"Would you allow me to court you properly?" He mutters, struck by her beauty as the moonlight illuminates her blond hair and pale face. Beauty that no elvish word can match.

"My heart is already yours." She speaks into his mouth and he licks her every word.

In Firien Wood, a white wolf is sniffing the air, looking for one particular scent. She has run here much earlier than the agreed time and another wolf hasn't come yet, so she lays close by the Mering Stream and inspects herself in the reflection. For the meeting she has asked Éomer to brush her furs, making it glossy under the waxing moon.

On the other side of the stream comes the scent she has been longing for. She stands up and howls, urging him to run faster. There is an answering call; and under the shadow, a black wolf bursts out from the tree line and sprints across the water. She excitedly stands on her hind legs, paws waving as to welcome him. The grey-blue eyes shine brightly with the black furs and he pants since he has hurried his way to the forest. She licks his mouth and face and he returns the gesture lovingly. They stroll along the stream, black and white tangle together, shoulder to shoulder, often she would rub her face on his neck to leave her scent on him. It is the action of scent-marking so that other wolves would know they are not available.

Usually Firien Wood is the perfect hunting ground with great numbers of preys but they are not here to hunt. This place is special to them as it is where they first met. Being with him she doesn't want to hunt anymore; she grows to love the animals. When it is necessary to kill for hunger, she does so with gratitude.

He nudges her when her thought drifts to the fawn. She huffs slightly, hoping he wouldn't worry about her. Although he is protective of her like her family, he respects her choices. She is grateful for his trust in her ability, one of the many reasons why she loves him dearly. In turn, she opens up to him, keeping no secrets because he accepts her as what she is. She has never been so comfortable around a wolf before. Even friends she has kept a barrier, but not him. He is special. He is the one.

Once every two weeks, they meet in the forest for a stroll during the night. Out of the forest they continue walking in the vast lands until they reach the end of Mering Stream and come to face the river Entwash. There, bathe in the moonlight, they howl to the moon to pay their respect to the Valar.

He lays down first, flipping his belly up for her to lean on. She snickers; he looks like a dog asking for belly rubs. He doesn't care about her teasing and purrs with pleasure when she settles next to him. He turns to lay on his side and she wiggles to get into his embrace. He licks her furs, thinking they look beautiful like the fresh snow. She hums in approval. His grooming is always on point.

They stay like that for a while until it is time to go. They get up and touch each other's nose to bid farewell. The white wolf heads back to Aldburg while the black wolf moves towards Ithilien. The ritual is done.

Éowyn yawns. She hasn't slept many hours the previous night and she gets an early shift. Luckily Éomer is driving her to Edoras because he has business to attend to, so she can catch some sleep during the drive.

Before she starts her shift, she calls the handsome park ranger.

"Good morning, my love." Faramir picks up after two rings.

"Are you sleeping?" She asks, still feeling coy being called various nicknames. They are cute and adorable and she loves it, but she isn't used to being spoiled and complimented in a romantic way.

"I am up already to get breakfast with Boromir."

She groans as she leans against the locker. "I hate morning shift."

He laughs but not without sympathy. "Just think that you are going to see me tonight."

Faramir has the weekends off from ranger duty and he has planned to visit her family farms in Aldburg. Éowyn can't wait. She grins as energy floods into her body. "Of course. I miss you already." She whispers so that her colleagues wouldn't hear. They would tease her to no end if they know she is completely smitten with the park ranger.

"Me too. Well, I will let you work now."

Hearing his voices certainly lifts her spirit. The tedious day of work suddenly becomes enjoyable. Every passing hour means she is closer to see Faramir tonight.

Éowyn frantically calls Éomer when he isn't there to pick her up. "Where the hell are you!?" She shouts. He promises to be here right at the end of her shift! She doesn't want to waste another minute in Edoras.

"There is a minor problem with the contractor," Éomer grunts. "Thirty minutes, I swear."

She hangs up on him. She wishes she has wings so that she can fly back to Aldburg right now. Sitting on the steps outside the police station, she calls Faramir with the depressing news.

Yet the park ranger isn't troubled. "I guess I can spend more time with your uncle then. We are done with the crops and I think we are heading to the stables."

"You sound very excited." She says bitterly, humiliated that her eagerness to spend time with him isn't reciprocated. She feels like an idiot.

"I want to know more about you and the place you grew up in," Faramir explains with patience. "I can see traces of you everywhere; the doodles on the walls, handwritten signs here and there. Do you know you misspell hen? You wrote hem. Théoden said you have the tendency to mix the letters up."

"That's a long time ago." She remembers that one; she helped writing it when her parents visited the farm during summer. "What other embarrassing trivia did he share?"

"It's not embarrassing. Yes?" He lowers the phone to speak with Théoden, who wants to get the horses out for some exercise. "I have to go, freckles." Faramir apologises sincerely. "Your uncle wants me to clean the stalls."

Éowyn sighs. Her uncle is obviously testing his limits. She would like to have a conversation with Théoden later. So the call ends and she waits, kicking stones on the pavement to keep herself occupied. Finally, after twenty minutes Éomer appears. She instantly jumps into his car. He snorts, never seen her so keen about a man. Under her deadly glare he drives home.

Before they park, she already spots the Gondorian on the porch. As soon as Éomer brakes she hops out and runs towards Faramir, who opens his arms to catch her. He stumbles at the impact; laughing lightly as Éowyn hugs him tightly. "I can't breathe, giant wolf!" He yelps, the huge grin on his face betrays him.

Disregards of Éomer's snickers, she pushes them inside. They really need to find a place to cuddle.

"Dinner is in an hour!" Théodred announces from the kitchen when the two young wolves go to her room. Éomer adds, "Keep the door open or I will kick it down."

She sticks out her tongue to him. She is an adult and her virtue doesn't require protection! She leads Faramir inside her room and locks the door.

"Shouldn't we keep it open?" He asks innocently.

Oh, what a nobleman of rules. She is grinning as she rolls her eyes hard. "They wouldn't dare. The one thing they do not want to see is his dear sister doing a Gondorian black wolf on her bed."

"Éowyn!" Faramir flushes. He should be used to her being bold now. Yet it makes him shy to think that a woman as fierce as Éowyn would love him. She adores his romantic heart under the weathered appearance.

"I'm just kidding," she lays down on her bed, exhausted after a day's work. He follows her and gathers her in his arms. She places her head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeats and puts her limbs around his torso and legs. He gently combs her hair. If she can purr right now, she would sound like a helicopter. She can definitely get used to this.

They nestle in bed until dinner time. For Faramir, it is more of an interrogation. The three Rohirrim wolves basically ask the entire history of his family and challenge him with many what-if scenarios, like if Éowyn and Boromir fall into the ocean at the same time whom he is going to save and other ridiculous imagined situations. Éowyn defends him several times - she is not letting her family run over her lover, but he refuses help from her and answers the questions with manner and wit.

Finally, dinner is finished and the Rohirrim is out for patrol. Faramir releases a long breath when the wolves have set off. Éowyn thoughtfully massages his tense shoulders. "My poor wolf," she comforts. Her stay at the Gondorian house in Ithilien is heavenly. Denethor treats her like a daughter while Boromir considers her a young sister. They took her out for camping and it was wonderful. Faramir doesn't have it easy when he is confronted by three overly protective werewolves.

"I don't mind," he hums. "It's natural for them to worry that you might have given your heart to the wrong person. If I have a sister I would have done the same." He takes her hands and leads them inside, thinking it is time for movie night. However, she stops him from going to the living room. He raises a brow, questions in his eyes.

"Did you really not notice?" Éowyn whispers. She has planned this for months and he seems clueless.

"No?" He asks, frowning, though his heart is beating fast on its own. There is something in the air.

With their linked hands she steps closer until their bodies almost touch, their noses brushing. Her lips hover above his; she looks into his grey pure eyes and says what has been in her mind for the past six months.

"I want to mark you, Faramir." She breathes. Werewolves do not marry by vows and wedding rings. They do it by marking on the partner's neck while they unite as one, body and mind. A permanent bite to show the world that they are taken.

He gasps and jaw drops in shock, hands gripping hard onto her bony fingers. He pulls a few inches away so that he can survey her face. She speaks honestly of her desire and at last, he detects the strong and predatory scent of musk from her. It is weak due to her suppressant but it is there. He is upset that he doesn't pick it up sooner and Éowyn has to tell him in words. A considerate partner should have smelled it.

"Are you sure?" He cups her face gently. A year ago they have met and six months they are lovers, the most they have done is rubbing their scents on each other and some groping. Wouldn't it be too fast? His courtship has been underwhelming since they are both busy with their work and barely have time to meet.

"Yes," Éowyn nods with certainty and confidence. "Would you have me marked you, so that you can be mine and mine only?" Valar have arranged them to cross paths and her life has been joyous and nothing else since then. She is tired of waiting. Faramir is the one. She knows this. Her family and friends know this. He knows this.

"Mark me yours."

"Gladly." She mutters.

He stoops to kiss her and a spark is ignited. It swiftly turns into a fire of passion and desire. The two wolves stumble to her room upstairs and none spares a thought on locking the door. Though there is an urgency in their lovemaking and marking, they do so in love and gentleness. Under the witness of the moon, the union is completed.

They lay naked under the tangled blankets, breathless and satisfied. Éowyn touches the fresh mark on his neck and giggles. He is hers. She has bonded herself to this perfect wolf and man forever.

He purrs with a smile on his face. "Can you stop grinning?"

"Can you not?" She hums as he fondles his bite mark on her neck.

His answer is simple. He kisses her and their hands once again explore their territories. They moan at the pleasant feeling that makes them tremble: they have found each other in this world after years of loneliness. They have found home.

A/N:

At first, I planned for a short epilogue, but ideas just keep coming up. Maybe I will write some drabbles about their lives after the union.

I really enjoy writing this story and thank you for joining me on this journey.