This chapter includes references to Lord of the Rings: I'm sure I'm not the only one out there's whose seen the similarities between Susan/Marcus and Eowyn/Faramir? Occured to me one day as I was rereading and rewatching the two masterpeices of LOTR and B5; the parallel was so perfect that I just had to put it in a fic and figured that Marcus would be my ally for that observation; him reading so much and all.

Anyways hope you enjoy!

X-X

She reminds him of Eowyn.

The Lord of the Rings has always been one of Marcus's favourite books: the depth, the complexity, the tireless struggles, the awe striking battles against numerous odds – all so perfectly entwined and woven into an intrinsic multi-layered epic.

A shimmering tapestry of colours too many to name that come to form the indelible final effect.

Marcus often thinks that their own battle – Babylon 5's story has certain symmetry to Lord of the Rings. A double mirrored reflection of each other perhaps.

The battle against numerous odds is definitely true.

If so then Susan's resemblance to Eowyn is even more poignant.

They both posses a type of untameable spirit.

A will almost unbreakable in strength.

A sober gravity giving them maturity beyond their years.

A fierce courage that knows no depth.

They are both warriors: A terror in battle – defeating enemies no one dared to challenge.

They are leaders: respected (and perhaps feared) by their people.

A symbol to follow; though not as glorified as other more renowned men who carry the face of light.

They get less praise than deserved. But neither let female binds stop them for a moment. Steel determination leading the way.

The two also share (and hear Marcus gives a wry grin), a rather hot temper and biting tongue coupled with hardened pride giving them the appearance of untouchable ice.

"I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily and yet knew it was hard, as if wrought by elf wrights out of steel. Or was it maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see but stricken..."

Yes. Ice.

That more than anything is true.

The stern masks they don shielding the outer world from inner pain. Both suffered and lost and grieved – yet soldiered on tirelessly. Shield maidens: with arms and hearts of steel. Or some would stay of stone.

Both lost their parents; both were forced to watch on as their father figure was dragged slowly out of their desperate grasp.

Both of their brothers rode away to war – leaving them alone to bear the burden, leaving them behind.

Perhaps they share that great fear as well; to be the ones left behind while others fight and die.

And both of them were beautiful. Tall and slender – exchange: hair, fair as river of gold for – hair, chestnut as a river of flame and it fitted like a glove.

Marcus doesn't think he'll ever share this comparison with Susan. She usually spurns compliments no matter how persistently he drops them and explaining why and how she bears resemblance to the white lady of Rohan could get complicated.

Ironically enough though she actually asks about Eowyn (albeit unwittingly and completely ignorant of the depth behind the inquiry).

They're in her quarters, she's bent over the table going over some papers (does she ever stop?) and Marcus is sprawled on the sofa reading. A plate of biscuits is between them and various half filled cups of tea (for him) and coffee (for her) adorn the room.

It's become a routine since Marcus became her fellow Entil'zh.

Most evenings he'll head over to her room usually bearing some gift of hard-to-attain snacks. They'll start by discussing Ranger's training or some political situation that's arisen but the talk slowly dwindles from work to…well anything really. And sometimes they stop talking altogether.

"What are you reading?"

Willingly Marcus raises his gaze from the text. "Lord of the Rings." He holds the cover up for proof.

She rolls her eyes, "A classic – of course. Is it good?"

"Mmm. Very."

The papers are obviously getting boring because she swivel's around and leans towards him over the arm rest.

"Alright, I'll be interested. What's happening?"

"Ah. Well…"

How to explain the whole 1008 page storyline in a few simple words?

"Have you ever read it before?"

"I think I studied it at school, but that was long, long time ago."

She suffers under the misguided delusion she's old. Marcus restrains himself from offering a corrections and returns to explaining.

"Well at the moment I'm in the middle of a chapter called The Steward and the King."

That would mean nothing to her but it was a good place to start.

"And?"

"Two of the characters – Faramir and Eowyn – are recovering from near death experiences. They're both pretty fed up to be stuck in bed while there's a war going on actually."

"Understandably."

"Yep. But Faramir seems to be making a play for Eowyn." He flashes a knowing grin. "But she doesn't seem interested."

"Why?"

Marcus sits up now, swinging his legs forward to touch the floor. "Too busy worrying about riding off to war."

A smile comes to his face.

"Plus I'm sure she considers him a bit of a wimp really: spouting poetry or music and she's only interested in the warrior aspect. Probably thinks he's just being a pain. She'll learn."

He's still smiling as he says it but Susan doesn't seem to catch the irony.

"Well I don't blame her." She moves to settle beside him, legs tucked up.

"Of course you don't." Absentmindedly Marcus reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Such actions are becoming routine for both of them now.

"So what's Eowyn like then?"

"Strong." He says simply, the word heavy with meaning.

"Spirited. Dedicated. …Proud. Determined. Fierce. Serious – she's been through a lot but doesn't show it….and she's beautiful."

He adds that one quietly, still looking at her.

"Hmph. Sounds too good to be true."

"Sometimes it seems as if she is." He pauses and Susan looks at him, slight confusion clouding her gaze. She must be working it out…she must realise….

Yes.

The confusion vanishes.

Realisation floods in and with it blood to her cheeks. She blushes quietly, caught offhand.

Then she shifts forward to plant her lips on his.

The kiss is long and slow and lingering and sends shivers up Marcus's spine.

He's is suddenly very aware of her body so close to his. The sudden burning in her eyes. The pounding of his heart. His breath hitches and their hands are trembling slightly as they lean in again…

And for a while he's not really focused on epic analyzation anymore, his attention is...elsewhere.

Marcus never really explained why he so told Susan he was a virgin. Maybe it was part of the scheme to encourage her closer. Maybe it was just he wanted her to know how special she was.

When he'd returned they hadn't rushed into it. He'd been back from the dead five months now and nothing had 'happened'. Marcus had sensed that Susan wanted him to be sure that she was worth it. She didn't want him to waste it. She still didn't truly believe it was for her.

It was ridiculous – it had always been for her – he knew there was never any doubt in the matter but he was content to let things develop slowly. After accepting the end of everything – including his life – it was hardly a trial to wait another couple of weeks.

Now though, everything just came together, without warning or presumption they'd just done it.

And Marcus knew he'd been right. That it – she – had been worth waiting for.

Afterwards they lay together in the darkened room. He held Susan in his arms in an achingly familiar position – her head nestled in under a shoulder, his fingers gently caressing – but it had never been quite like this.

"Marcus?" Her voice pierced the quiet room.

"Yes?"

"Earlier, you were talking about Faramir…and Eowyn, you meant me, didn't you?"

"Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"Like I've said before." Even now the tone is firm. "And will obviously have to keep saying over and over again: when something happens that I don't know about – worry."

"Right." His grin shines through the black. "Of course, when something happens you don't know about, we'll probably all be dead."

"And I thought I was the pessimistic one."

She stops briefly and speaks very low.

"You know…Eowyn was lucky to have Faramir as well…" Her breath catches and she tries to force lightness into the tone.

"Even if he was a pain in the arse."

Marcus knows she can feel him smiling against her hair.

There's a long pause and Susan relaxes again. He can feel drowsiness slowly creeping its way through his body. Everything, his legs, his hands, the tips of his fingers are so heavy. And the bed, the room – Susan – are very warm.

"Oh, and Marcus?" The words float through his foggy consciousness.

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

Even on the brink of sleep the burst of heat rushes through Marcus, sending his heart to his throat.

He tightens his grip and draws her closer to him with a sleepy sigh.

"Good. Because I love you too."

As he slips into the dark realms of dreams, sinking into embracing unconsciousness a final line echoes in his mind.

"There goes a lord who tamed a wild shield maiden of the North."

And there goes a man who tamed Susan Ivanova.

Please review – I don't care if its gushing, constructive criticism (thought that's the most useful) or even flame, just tell me what you think!