My Confessions
By: Rai
Author's Note: Please note that I did take a dialogue from The Return of the King for this chapter, if only because I wished for this story to end smoothly, without loose ends. I did elaborate on the scene itself to tie it to the fanfiction, but in any case... I hope all of you enjoyed the story.
Disclaimer: I am not the owner nor creator nor the writer of Middle-earth or The Lord of the Rings, nor am I owners of any of the movies. I am not making any money out of this and am doing this for pure personal enjoyment.
Any canonical and grammar errors are slips of my own (and will be glad to correct it if pointed out because I'm not perfect).
Chapter 3 – Now Hear My Confession
Faramir's eyes darkened as he considered the words of the Warden carefully, allowing himself the time to slowly comprehend the gravity of the situation. He glanced upward to look into the Warden's eyes, seeing that the Warden was observing him; observing his Lord's reactions to what he had been told for what was said or what happened next would determine what was to happen later.
So much could be gained or lost with but a single word.
"I have heard rumour that the Lady Éowyn did not depart to Cair Andros to be with her brother, and for a moment I had wondered why she did not go," acknowledge Faramir cautiously. "But I have not had much time or luxury to give it more than a thought since I was released from your care, Warden. The city is alive and awaiting the coming of the King, and there is much to be done before he is to be given this City."
The Warden looked sceptically at Faramir. "Do you mean to tell me that you have not given the Lady Éowyn more than a passing thought since you left?"
Faramir blinked for he did not expect such a frank question, a question he was unwilling to answer. And he did not answer it and averted his gaze as he tried to regain his composure.
The truth was that he had thought of little else for days at a time. Ever he looked to the Houses of Healing, wondering if she was still there, wondering if she was healed in her heart. When the messengers from Cormallen arrived for a moment Faramir feared that he would lose her, that she would ride away, never to be seen by him again. And yet at the same time, he felt that in her leaving, perhaps she would at last find the happiness she sought in being near the Lord Aragorn's side, and he felt glad, if only it was a bitter happiness for him.
But she did not ride to meet her brother, and though part of Faramir was relieved, another part of him was confused by this strange choice. Many nights he had lain in bed awake, spent wondering the conundrum that was her choice, but as to the truth, only she knew if indeed even she understood her choice. Faramir was not certain.
The Warden sighed, taking Faramir's silence as confirmation to his suspicions. "Faramir," he started gently, "she is growing colder and paler with each passing day. It seems that in all the City, she alone is ailing and sorrowful. Why? It is not my place to know or even comprehend. I may not even know the answers, but I know what I can see and I can see that she is trapped in her own despair. If only for that I fear for her recovery, Faramir."
"And how am I to be of any assistance in her sadness?" Faramir asked. "For her sadness comes from a dream she cannot achieve and is one I cannot give her. I cannot help her any more than you yourself can, Warden, and even if I could help her, I do not think she would allow me to…"
"Is that all true, Faramir?" said the Warden sharply, cutting into Faramir's sentence abruptly. "I tire of your excuses, Faramir, if not to me, than to yourself! Surely even you do not believe in your weak rationalizations and logic. Even you should have realized that what you are telling yourself is but a pitiful attempt to protect yourself."
Faramir stared open-mouthed at the Warden, rendered speechless at what he had been told. "I…" Faramir's voice trailed pitifully, for he knew not how to respond, and as he thought further of it, he could not help but wonder if anything he had said held any truth. Perhaps his rationalities were all simply a front in which to protect his heart from being further damaged.
The Warden turned his back on the young Steward, sighing. "You do love the Rohan girl, do you not?"
Faramir's eyes fell to his feet. "Yes," he admitted softly.
The Warden sighed again. "You who pride himself on his insight surely can see that her sadness stems from something beyond her dreams," he said softly. "And how can you be so sure it is a dream you cannot give her? Dreams change, Faramir, as do destinies and desires." He ran a hand through his greying hair. "It is time to put away your pride and your fears, Faramir. Speak with the Lady Eowyn. Let her know."
Faramir stared at the Warden, before he stood, nodding. "You are wise, Warden, and see beyond even what I can see. They say that you should never judge yourself, for you are often the worst to judge your own self," said Faramir. "I shall speak with her now, if I may."
He knew not what he would garner from this meeting, but at least he should honour her with his true feelings, even if she were to cast it aside for the one she truly desired.
"Indeed she walks the gardens, as she has every day since last seeing you," said the Warden, with a glimmer in his eyes that seemed to indicate a hidden smile. "She may well be expecting you, my lord."
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"Éowyn, why do you tarry here, and do not go to the rejoicing in Cormallen beyond Cair Andros, where your brother awaits you?"
Éowyn did not meet Faramir's gaze, wishing that he had not asked her such a question, for she herself could not answer it. She looked off to the side, staring at the festivities below the wall in which they now stood and said: "Do you not know?"
Faramir sighed at her answer, for it sounded as if she meant to trap him. Frustrated, he decided to respond with a vague rationalization.
"Two reasons," he stated holding up two fingers, "there may be." He let his hand fall to his side as he looked at her sadly. "But which is true, I do not know."
He could feel his throat becoming restricted as he looked upon her, revelling in her beauty, and yet felt great sadness for she indeed appeared paler and thinner since he saw her last. Already he scolded himself for being so negligent towards her, for not giving her the attention she so sorely needed.
Éowyn closed her eyes as she felt anger flare within her. "I do not wish to play at riddles," she said irritably, clenching her hands into fists. "Speak plainer!"
She had waited for his coming for too long to endure such games with him, and she almost loathed the way he insisted on being vague, as if he could not speak what is truly on his mind.
Faramir was slightly taken aback at her vehement command, and he blinked rapidly at it. "Then if you will have it so, lady," he said, "you do not go because only your brother called for you, and to look on the Lord Aragorn, Elendil's heir, in his triumph would now bring you no joy." He stopped to calm himself with deep breathes, trying to ignore the stabbing pains of jealousy within him.
"Or," he continued more softly, "because I do not go, and you desire still to be near me." She did not look to him when he spoke, so he continued his supposition. "And maybe for both reasons, and you yourself cannot choose between them."
Faramir stopped again looking to Éowyn in silence. She did not meet his gaze, staring only to the stone of the wall they stood on, above the courtyard. He bit his lip as anxiety took him, and so he said softly, "Éowyn, do you not love me, or will you not?"
Éowyn's heart skipped a beat at his gentle tone, but she blinked at the odd question Faramir asked her. What did he mean? So she answered him with only what she knew. "I wished to be loved by another," she answered. "But I desire no man's pity."
Faramir groaned. "That I know," he said impatiently. "You desire to have the love of the Lord Aragorn. Because he was high and puissant, and you wished to have renown and glory and to be lifted far above the mean things that crawl on the earth. And as a great captain may to a young soldier he seemed to you admirable." He paused as he tried to calm himself, noting how Éowyn had tensed during his tirade. How it irritated him that a woman could make him lose control of his emotions and his mind! He felt beaten, unable to fight any longer. He lacked the energy, and his heart was heavy.
"For so he is," he whispered softly, "a lord among men, the greatest that now is. But when he gave you only understanding and pity, then you desired to have nothing, unless a brave death in battle."
He took her shoulders, turning her gently so that she faced him. She did not resist him, but her eyes were still downcast. Faramir's voice became hoarse, and his eyes were cheerless as he said: "Look at me, Éowyn."
Slowly she lifted her eyes to his, until at last she was staring into the grey depths of his soul. Her breath quickened as she was flooded by raw emotions, and she was unable to speak, trapped in a void of feeling. She wished to look away, to avoid those eyes that were looking to her with so much sadness, but she could not draw herself away from his gaze.
And then Faramir spoke. "Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Éowyn!" said Faramir. "But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten; and you are a lady beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the Elven-tongue to tell." He gripped her harder. "And I love you."
At last he had said those words, and as they left his lips he felt as if a great and terrible weight has been lifted from his soul, for she was now aware of his feelings. Even if she was not to return them, even if she would continue to look only to the King Aragorn, it mattered not, for the truth had set him free, and perhaps now Faramir would find true peace in his love for her, ever if she would never be his.
Éowyn's eyes widened and it seemed that she was looking upon Faramir for the first time. And indeed he had laid himself bare to her. And then she understood that the sorrow in his eyes, the sadness and pain was not out of sympathy for her, but out of his own misery, for he loved her, and yet it seemed to him to be a one-sided romance, for she followed another. She could feel tears forming in her eyes as she realized that his pain was perhaps as great as her own, and yet he bore it more valiantly than she did.
"Once I pitied your sorrow," continued Faramir. "But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, still I would love you. Éowyn," he cried desperately, looking at her, "do you not love me?" Even as he asked the question, he feared the answer, feared her rejection, that she would walk away and leave him alone, to bear his love for her sorrowfully. He knew that if she were to reject him, that he would have no other.
But his worries were for naught, for then the heart of Éowyn changed, turning and falling into place, or at last she understood it. And suddenly her winter passed, and she was able to feel the sun.
"I…" she started breathlessly, looking to Faramir in wonder, "I stand in Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun, and behold! the Shadow has departed!" She lifted her once injured arm, now fully healed as she said, "I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren." She laughed happily as she looked about her, feeling warmth cascading down on her and light, beautiful and free. She looked to Faramir again, her grey eyes no longer frozen or cold, but full of life as she said to him meaningfully, "No longer do I desire to be queen."
And she took his hand in hers, and placed her head on his shoulder, her golden hair against his neck.
Faramir laughed merrily. "That is well for I am not a king. Yet I will wed with the White Lady of Rohan, if it be her will. And if she will, then let us cross the River and in happier days let us dwell in fair Ithilien and there make a garden. All things will grow with joy there, if the White Lady comes."
She lifted her head to look up at him. "Then must I leave my own people, man of Gondor?" she asked almost coyly. "And would you have your proud folk say of you "There goes a lord who tamed a wild shieldmaiden of the North! Was there no woman of the race of Numenor to choose?" "
Faramir's eyes softened as he looked at her, her golden hair shining in the sunlight, and her face glowing with love and life, no longer the reflection of a pale ghost. "I would," he said tenderly, placing his fingers gently in her hair, brushing it back, until they came to her chin.
They looked upon each other, as he took her in his arms, and they drew close to each other. "I would," he whispered again, and they kissed under the sunlit sky.
The End