Sequel to Healing the Shieldmaiden and Four Letters

Faramir was out of breath, but he was still running as fast as his feet could propel him. He did not care that people were staring at him. The piece of paper was clenched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were white. He made it to the gate on the sixth level, watching the guardsmen open it for him, worried looks upon their faces. But his haste was for the joy that was going to break through his heart. He needed to see her right now, and tell her what was on that marvelous piece of paper.

To: Faramir, son of Denethor, House of Húrin, Steward of Gondor,

I hereby give my consent for you to marry the Lady Éowyn of the House of Eorl, Shieldmaiden and Princess of Rohan. I look forward to getting to know the man who has stolen the heart of my beloved sister, the most precious jewel of Rohan.

Yours,
Éomer
King of Rohan

Upon reading the letter, Faramir had abandoned all other correspondence and ran to the House of Healing to seek out his fiancée. It was unbecoming of a Steward, but he couldn't help it. He finally steadied himself to a trot when he was within sight of the House. When Éowyn met his eyes, she knew. She finished with her patient and dismissed herself. She washed her hands in the special healer's solution before launching herself into his arms, pulling herself to him so forcefully that she was lifted off the ground.

"I knew. I told you." Éowyn read the letter in Faramir's hand. She then turned to him and kissed him. He was kissing his soon-to-be wife.

Éowyn turned back to the House of Healing, placed a kiss on her fingers then touched them to Faramir's lips, striding back in to have a quick word with the Warden. Faramir saw Éowyn smile and curtsy. When she smiled, all the rest of Faramir's world fell out of focus. As she made her way back to him, Faramir felt his heartbeat quicken. This woman, beyond beautiful, beyond kind, beyond brave, was his.

"Given the happy news, the Warden has released me for the day." Éowyn took Faramir's outstretched arm. Could he also take the day? No, not today.

"I must return to my office, but the afternoon is our's," Faramir looked down at Éowyn. He longed to shirk his responsibility and show his soon-to-be-wife the city, but his duties as Steward were not over.

"Will my presence be a bother?" Éowyn was thoughtful.

"I fear that your presence will always be a distraction," Faramir smiled widely, "But today, I cannot think of a more welcome distraction than you."

Faramir winked, and snuck a kiss onto Éowyn's cheek.

"I fear we will always find ourselves distracted," Éowyn chortled, "But I would still not have my presence be a hindrance to the work you must do."

"I reckon I am sufficiently skilled to find a way to get through my work with you in the Steward's office." Faramir gripped her hand more tightly. He was not completely sure this was true, especially not today, but if his choice was to be in Éowyn's presence or nay, he would always choose the former, especially today.

Faramir had grown accustomed to the eyes of the city upon them when they walked together. Curious stares and whispers had quickly been replaced with smiles and waves. Their beloved Steward was not just marrying the Princess of Rohan, he was marrying the very Shieldmaiden who had ended the Witch-King. Gondorians revered the White Lady of Rohan, and were overjoyed that she would be theirs, united with them through the Steward's love. That she had shown herself to have skilled healer's hands as well? A marvel! She was celebrated amongst them with nearly the same excitement as their long-awaited King.

Faramir smiled as he saw their eyes, and was overjoyed to find that she was accepted and revered. They loved her nearly as much as he did. Though Faramir would never allow anything to happen to question Éowyn's honor, he found that the normal level for formality that would be expected of a match like theirs was not expected of him, because he and Éowyn were the adopted son and daughter of the people. Open affection with Éowyn was met with smiles even from the stodgiest of the nobility, and both the betrothed took advantage. Theirs was a match of love, and it was important that they showed all those around them. The shadow was lifted from the hearts of all in Gondor, and it was the time to celebrate.

As they approached his office, Faramir asked Éowyn to close her eyes and led her in. He had been waiting to get the entire thing copied and translated for her; his next gift to his love, but he could no longer contain his excitement over this particular surprise. Sharing a love of books with her? That was as much a gift for him as it was for her.

Even when he was broken-hearted, thinking she would run back to Lord Aragorn, he could not stop himself from giving her books. Faramir remembered hoping desperately that his gut had been right, that she was his all along. He had given into his own self-doubt, hiding from her to avoid facing the possibility of her rejection, and yet every moment he had been without her, she consumed his thoughts. Those few days without her were foolish days, ones he still regretted. That this had not ruined his chances with Éowyn felt a miracle, and represented a mistake he would never make again. He could trust her with his heart, even when opening it fully seemed the most painful thing in the world.

"Hold out your hand," Éowyn left her eyes closed and held out her hands. Faramir sniffled. This woman, stalked and assaulted by a monstrosity of a man since she had blossomed into a woman, trusted him completely.

Faramir deliberately made noise with his feet, and grabbed the book. The Elven Arts of Healing, a book that Mithrandir had given him by special commission of the Lord Elrond himself. He placed it in Éowyn's hand, then leaned in to kiss her brow.

"Open them." Faramir could not keep the lovelorn grin from his face.

Éowyn looked down, saw the title of the book, then leaned toward Faramir, pulling his head to her's with her free hand, and kissing him with the passion that weakened his knees.

"Thank you." Éowyn leaned her head against his, touching their foreheads to one another, "I fear I will now need to take seriously my lessons in Sindarin."

"I shall teach you." Faramir closed his eyes, taking in her intoxicating lavender smell, "Consider it a trade for helping me learn Rohirric. I should want to know what you and your brother say about me."

"Then we will whisper all the more softly!" Éowyn laughed, then kissed him again, combing her fingers through his hair. It drove him crazy when she did that, but now he really did need to get to work. Gently pushing away from her, he turned both their attentions to the book in her hand.

"I've translated the first chapter of the book for you - you can find it in the inset. I hope I've provided enough for you while I get this last work done," Faramir followed Éowyn's keen eyes to her book, "Consider it lesson #1 in Sindarin."

Faramir's resolve broke, and he went in for another kiss.

"Gi melín, Éowyn." Faramir whispered for her ears only, "I love you in Sindarin. Lesson #2."

"Gi melín, Faramir, min elskede." Éowyn softly stroked Faramir's jawline, kissed him one more time, then retreated with her book to the leather loveseat in the corner of the Steward's office.

Faramir seated himself in the stiff wooden chair at the desk. A chair that his father had chosen, and one that did not suit him. Sort of like the title of Steward. Darkness trickled into his mind. But when he looked over at Éowyn, her legs folded below her, the book and his translations in her hand, he knew that he would only ever need to think on her and he would be delivered back to the light.

The hours melted away as Faramir stamped the Steward's ring on the last piece of paper sitting on his desk. One last urgent request, one last waxen stamp and he was done. He looked over at the golden lady lounging in his loveseat, stirring only occasionally to flip pages of the book he had given her. She really did look like she emitted her own light.

"Done! I am yours." Faramir took the blasted ring off of his hand and threw it onto the desk. Éowyn looked up from her book, and closed it, sliding gracefully off of the loveseat. Faramir didn't dare to blink for fear of missing the sight of her walking toward him.

"What shall we do with the rest of our day then?" Éowyn's arms were around him.

Faramir breathed in the lavender in her hair, and grabbed a lock of it, rubbing its silky strands between his fingers. Then he turned to her, drowning in her those deep blue eyes she had. He wanted to lean in and spend the day kissing her and touching her. But no, he also wanted to show her his city.

"Let us start on the first level and work our way up," Faramir said, though it was between kisses, "By the time we make it back to the Citadel, we may be able to see the dust cloud of the returning host against the sunset."

Faramir felt Éowyn stiffen at this.

"Tell me your sorrows min elskede," Faramir quickly said.

"Your Rohirric is getting better," Éowyn smiled at him, then sighed, "The host is returning, and I wonder if I will then wake from this wonderful dream. Destined for my cage in Edoras. I've not looked upon Aragorn since he nearly destroyed me, so to see him marching to claim this city, I fear that it will break my heart again."

"I suspect the opposite. That he will look upon you, seeing the light you radiate from your compassion and your courage, and feel the shame of ever looking down at you," Faramir touched his nose to Éowyn's, he then chuckled, "But I'm more worried that Éomer will jump from his horse and challenge me to a duel."

Éowyn laughed, and it was big and bright. Little did she know that Faramir had been sparring every night with Beregond to regain his lost strength and skill, solely to ensure that if such a thing were to come to pass, he would not embarrass himself with his future brother-in-law.

"You should stop sparring at every unclaimed moment, so that your bruises heal." Éowyn smiled. Of course she knew. As if to emphasize her point, she squeezed Faramir's forearm, sending a shock of pain through his nerves. "And if Éomer does anything of the sort, certain Hobbits and I have already made plans to disrupt such an event until my brother has come to his senses."

"What have you three planned?" Faramir asked.

"You will only see should Éomer be foolish enough to try and duel you." Éowyn's eyes twinkled with mischief. God Faramir wanted to kiss her. "And if you decide to exercise your muscles again tonight, find me in the morning. I will have a soothing salve mixed for you."

"Will my favorite healer apply it herself?" Faramir's eyes flickered

"Perhaps, I shall see if Ioreth is busy." Éowyn's grin lit the room.

The tension had built too much, there was too much electricity in the room. Faramir leaned in and found Éowyn's mouth, kissing her greedily, which she returned in kind. Her hand was in his hair again, god he loved that. Yes, just kissing the rest of the afternoon, that was a fine choice. But then Éowyn pulled back, and there was just the faintest vapor of doubt still in her eyes.

"This is not a dream. I will not wake up tomorrow and find I am still a prisoner in my cage," Éowyn's voice held the slightest tinge of fear.

Faramir pulled her into a hug, "This is not a dream min elskede. The host will ride in, and to greet them will be the Steward and the Princess of Rohan, his beloved fiancée, holding hands under the sunlight, for all the world to see. Even if it means the King of Rohan will duel the Steward."

Éowyn laughed with a joy that Faramir had only rarely been able to draw out of her. When she steadied herself, her eyes returned to his, thoughtful and full of love.

"I should like a tour of the whole city today. As long as we make it back to watch the sunset in the gardens," said Éowyn, still stroking her fingers through Faramir's hair.

"Then it shall be so," Faramir placed a kiss upon Éowyn's hand, and they set out toward the first level of Minas Tirith.