Hello everyone, I'm Lee Davies, and this is my first LOTR fic. Any nice comments/and or suggestions would be appreciated. Any flames will be used to burn my English 4 book or make marshmallows. This is a Faramir/Eowyn fic, for those who want to know.

Faramir, son of Denethor, woke up and looked around. There was no one else at the bar, except for a few various drunks and a very disgruntled looking proprietor.

"Why aren't you shacked up with a wench like your friends?" the man laughed ribaldly. "I came for a drink, and unfortunately, I had a few more than I intended. What do I owe you?" Faramir asked, wincing at the loud voice that assailed his throbbing head.

The man named his price, and the ex-Ranger slowly unpeeled his eyelids, counted out the necessary money, and then slapped it down on the counter. "Pleasure doing business with you, Steward."

Grunting in reply, Faramir unhurriedly made his winding way out the door. The sunlight was extraordinarily bright to his eyes, and he could feel them tearing up. He had been to this particular bar often after Aragorn, the King Elessar had called him back to the land of the living. Sometimes Faramir blessed him and others, he cursed the fact that he was still alive, when his father, brother, and mother were gone.

His head began to clear slightly, and bitterness threatened to overwhelm his heart. "This is no way for me to live my life!" he told himself firmly. "I am the Steward of my people, and though deprived of my family, I have not been robbed of my dignity!" Faramir vowed then and there that no matter what fey mood befell him, he would not seek consolation in the bottle.

A pain twinged in his side, and he grimaced. He had ignored it for two days, but it was too powerful now. Stumbling toward the Houses of Healing, his vision started clouding over.

Suddenly, he heard a voice, coming as though from a great distance away. Struggling to focus his fading senses, he made out the words, "Are you all right?" before the darkness claimed him.

Eowyn was bored and hopeless. Her brother was gone, and in her mind, she had nothing to live for after Aragorn had rejected her. "What is wrong with me?" she wondered for the 145th time.

Just then, she heard a commotion going on down the hall. Ioreth's voice was audible, and sounding very aggravated about something. "I TOLD that boy he wasn't ready to leave, but does he listen? OF COURSE NOT! Steward of Gondor or not, when he gets better, I will put him over my knee and give him the paddling he deserves!" she raged.

For the first time in days, Eowyn felt a desire to leave her room and see something of the Healing Houses. Following the bellowing noises, she went up some stairs and came to a room with a single bed. Her breath caught in her throat and she stared.

A very handsome man lay on the bed. Ioreth had his shirt open and was tending a very angry looking wound. "Who is he?" Eowyn found herself asking, entranced. Ioreth saw the expression on her face and an idea formed in her head. "He is Faramir, Steward of Gondor, and you will have the chance to become better acquainted with him." "What do you mean?" Eowyn hissed.

"Since you are well enough to move around and these stairs are hard on my old bones, you shall look after him for me." Ioreth told Eowyn, looking extremely smug and pleased with herself. Eowyn opened her mouth to say no, but was surprised to find herself agreeing with the healer's crazy plan. Oh well...at least she got to see his chest 3 times a day...guaranteed!