Post by Admin on Jan 8, 2021 2:34:07 GMT
Author: Darkover
Ranking: 2nd place
Summary: It looks as if the wedding between the Steward of Gondor and the White Lady of Rohan will not take place.
Disclaimer: The characters of “The Lord of the Rings” were created by J.R.R. Tolkien, not by me, and I am not pretending otherwise. This story is written for love, not for money, and no attempt to violate copyright is intended. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and I believe the good professor would understand that.
Rating: K+, for mention of canonical character death
She seemed clothed in night, his beloved; the light of the full moon on this clear night picked up on the silver stars in her mantle, the mantle that had belonged to his mother Finduilas before her. Faramir stood observing his fiancée with deep, quiet admiration and love. She sensed his presence and turned with a smile to greet him—
A smile that turned into a grimace as she crumpled and fell. Faramir was at her side in an instant. “Eowyn! Beloved!” He picked her up in his arms, shouting for servants and guards until both came running. “The Lady Eowyn is ill! Fetch the King!”
~ooo0ooo~
“She has a fever,” Aragorn said, after completing his examination. “Have the servants heat water and bring me some athelas.”
Faramir did so, and then watched anxiously as his liege-lord proceeded to treat Eowyn with the life-giving herb, as he had treated both the White Lady and Faramir himself in the Houses of Healing weeks earlier. Fortunately, Eowyn was quicker to respond this time, and soon fell into a natural sleep.
“Thank you, my lord,” the new Steward said fervently. “She will recover?”
“Indeed,” Aragorn assured him. “You should get some rest yourself, Faramir.”
“I shall stay by her side, my lord, until the Lady Eowyn regains her full health once more,” the younger man insisted.
And he did just that, refusing to move from her side until Eowyn opened her eyes again hours later and smiled up at him. Faramir had tears in his eyes as he kissed her, and they spoke for some time, exchanging words of love, and only after it was clear that the lady would recover fully did her fiancé leave her side for his own chambers. Even the servants took note of the devotion of their new Steward to the White Lady of Rohan, until it was the talk of the manor.
So many folk of Minas Tirith, high and low alike, were amazed to hear that the wedding between the White Lady of Rohan and the Steward of Gondor was to be cancelled, and their troth broken.
~ooo0ooo~
“The wedding between the Lord Faramir and me will not take place.” The White Lady of Rohan stood before the new King and Queen of Gondor, slender and proud as ever, as she made her request. “Therefore, my lord Elessar, I request permission to return to my brother and to my people. Under such conditions, it would be unseemly for me to remain here much longer.”
Few things surprised Aragorn Elessar Telcontar any longer, for he had seen much over the course of his life, but this was one of the few. For an instant, he actually fumbled for words. “I…I do not understand, lady. Have we of Gondor offended Rohan in some way?”
“Not at all, gracious King.” Eowyn sounded sincere, and for a moment, her gaze was less remote. “I have come to love your majesty, and his noble lady—” Eowyn inclined her golden head toward Arwen—“as well as the people of this fair city. All have made me feel most welcome. But as I cannot remain, there is no point in delaying the inevitable. Have I your majesty’s leave to go?”
Aragorn did not wish for her to leave, especially under such circumstances, but he could think of no justifiable reason to refuse her request. “Yes, of course, lady. I shall make the necessary arrangements.”
Eowyn curtsied. “I thank your majesty.”
Thinking of how disappointed the new young Steward—of whom he had become very fond—must be, the King could not forego asking; “But why, lady? Why do you no longer wish to marry the Lord Faramir?”
For the first time since entering the hall, the White Lady looked the King directly in the eye. “You do not understand, your majesty. The wedding will not take place because the Lord Faramir no longer wishes to marry me.” Before she could be questioned further, Eowyn offered the monarchs another curtsy, and then left the chamber with a haste that was just this side of improper.
“Has Faramir gone mad, or has she?” Aragorn demanded after Eowyn was out of earshot. “Other than you and I, vanimelda, I thought that never had I seen two people more deeply in love than the new Steward and the White Lady of Rohan. I cannot believe that Faramir no longer wishes to marry her! And if Eowyn truly believes that he does not, and goes back to Rohan and her brother with such news, the consequences to Gondor hardly bear thinking of!”
“Quite so, my dearest, quite so,” the Queen interposed. “But for a moment, Estel, think not as a King does, but as a man, and as a friend. This is not just a matter of how politics between Gondor and Rohan will be affected if the wedding does not take place. This is also a matter of two young people who are very much in love, and now are in the grip of some grave misunderstanding. You must speak to them both, and discern what has gone wrong.” As Aragorn opened his mouth, Arwen took his hand and clasped it lovingly. “I know you love them both, my dear one, and would see them both happy again. Call them both together, Estel, and compel them to talk to each other. Both are heart sore, of that I am certain, and it is only by speaking with each other that the truth of the matter will be found.”
~ooo0ooo~
Later, in another smaller and more private chamber, King Elessar sat eying both his new young Steward and the White Lady of Rohan. “I confess I am at a loss,” he said. “I will keep no one in Minas Tirith against her or his will, but I believe, Lady Eowyn, that your return to Rohan would be a mistake.”
“How can I remain here, when the Lord Faramir wishes to break our troth?” Eowyn was looking off into the distance, not making eye contact with either of the men present. Faramir gazed at the floor, but his own face was as pale and as resolute as Eowyn’s.
“Do you wish that, Lord Faramir?” Aragorn prompted, when his Steward made no reply.
“I do,” Faramir said. But his voice was almost inaudible, and Aragorn thought he had never seen the young man looking more miserable.
“Then there is nothing more to be said!” Eowyn snapped, her inner fire momentarily breaking through the outer shell of ice in which she had encased herself. “I will beg no man to love me!”
Faramir’s head snapped up, color flooding his fair cheeks. “Eowyn, I have never stopped loving you! But you are right, you must leave at once, lest I beg you to remain!”
Both the White Lady and the King stared at him. “I confess to some confusion,” the King said carefully, aware of the intense undercurrent of emotion as the two lovers gazed at each other. “Do you wish for the lady to stay or to go, Faramir?”
“Yes, speak to me!” Eowyn demanded. “You have not given me any reason why you no longer wish for us to marry, only this mad insistence that I must go! Have I offended you in some way?” And with those last words, her control failed and she burst into tears.
“Eowyn!” Faramir said, as if in pain, and immediately he was on his feet and across the room, where he tried to take her into his arms. For an instant, she fought him, and then she relaxed into his embrace and clung to him as she wept. He hugged her fiercely, the words pouring out of him.
“Eowyn, White Lady of Rohan, I love you as I have never loved another. I wish to marry you, and make a life and a family with you, more than anything else in all of Arda. But I will not have you die! I will not be responsible for your death, as I was responsible for hers!”
“Of whom do you speak?” Eowyn asked, wiping her eyes. Behind them, Aragorn sat silent, listening.
“My mother.” Faramir’s expression was bleak and intensely sad. “My birth weakened her, she was never again the same, or so my father told me many times. And the last of her strength and happiness was dissipated by living here in Minas Tirith, surrounded by stone. When I saw you wearing the starry mantle that night, I was reminded of her. And then you fell ill, and I realized history was repeating itself, that it was happening all over again—that I was weakening a woman I loved, causing you to fall ill by walling you up in this city of stone, so unlike the open plains of Rohan to which you are accustomed. So I vowed that I would not exact such a price from you! Much as I love Gondor, if I could go with you to Rohan, I would do so, so that we might live together; but I am Steward of this land, and I cannot abandon my King or my duty. So I release you, Eowyn, from our troth…” Faramir’s voice broke, and then in the next moment, Eowyn was kissing him passionately.
“You foolish man!” she exclaimed when they parted. “Think you that I am some delicate plant, which will wither if it puts down roots in Gondor? The illness that I had was but a simple fever, passed from horses to humans and back again, contacted when I helped a mare in one of the stables here to give birth to a foal. It can come on in a manner both sudden and shocking, but no one ever died of it, and I might have caught it in the land of my birth just as easily as I did here! If that is your only worry, Faramir of Gondor, then I shall not leave! I do not release you from our troth, and you and I shall marry!” Laughing through her tears, she kissed him again.
Joy was slowly dawning over his handsome face, as if he hardly dared believe her words. “Truly?” he managed. Eowyn just laughed again.
The King had moved close to them, and now placed an avuncular arm around both their shoulders. “And lest you forget, my lord Steward,” he reminded Faramir, “While I shall sometimes require your presence in Minas Tirith, I have made you Prince of Ithilien, and you and your lady will spend much of your time there. You need not fear, Faramir, that the Lady Eowyn will always been surrounded by stone. With the help both of the Ents, and of Prince Legolas and his people, Ithilien will once again, very soon, be the garden of the Reunited Kingdom.”
~ooo0ooo~
Not long after, the city and people of Minas Tirith were treated to another wedding, not very long after the joining of their new King and Queen. This wedding was of the Lord Faramir, Steward of Gondor, to the Lady Eowyn, White Lady and Shieldmaiden of Rohan. The earlier rumor that the two had broken their troth was dismissed as foolish and unfounded gossip. And many folk were heard to remark that while the bride was indeed most fair and beautiful, seldom had they seen a more radiantly happy groom.
Ranking: 2nd place
Summary: It looks as if the wedding between the Steward of Gondor and the White Lady of Rohan will not take place.
Disclaimer: The characters of “The Lord of the Rings” were created by J.R.R. Tolkien, not by me, and I am not pretending otherwise. This story is written for love, not for money, and no attempt to violate copyright is intended. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and I believe the good professor would understand that.
Rating: K+, for mention of canonical character death
She seemed clothed in night, his beloved; the light of the full moon on this clear night picked up on the silver stars in her mantle, the mantle that had belonged to his mother Finduilas before her. Faramir stood observing his fiancée with deep, quiet admiration and love. She sensed his presence and turned with a smile to greet him—
A smile that turned into a grimace as she crumpled and fell. Faramir was at her side in an instant. “Eowyn! Beloved!” He picked her up in his arms, shouting for servants and guards until both came running. “The Lady Eowyn is ill! Fetch the King!”
~ooo0ooo~
“She has a fever,” Aragorn said, after completing his examination. “Have the servants heat water and bring me some athelas.”
Faramir did so, and then watched anxiously as his liege-lord proceeded to treat Eowyn with the life-giving herb, as he had treated both the White Lady and Faramir himself in the Houses of Healing weeks earlier. Fortunately, Eowyn was quicker to respond this time, and soon fell into a natural sleep.
“Thank you, my lord,” the new Steward said fervently. “She will recover?”
“Indeed,” Aragorn assured him. “You should get some rest yourself, Faramir.”
“I shall stay by her side, my lord, until the Lady Eowyn regains her full health once more,” the younger man insisted.
And he did just that, refusing to move from her side until Eowyn opened her eyes again hours later and smiled up at him. Faramir had tears in his eyes as he kissed her, and they spoke for some time, exchanging words of love, and only after it was clear that the lady would recover fully did her fiancé leave her side for his own chambers. Even the servants took note of the devotion of their new Steward to the White Lady of Rohan, until it was the talk of the manor.
So many folk of Minas Tirith, high and low alike, were amazed to hear that the wedding between the White Lady of Rohan and the Steward of Gondor was to be cancelled, and their troth broken.
~ooo0ooo~
“The wedding between the Lord Faramir and me will not take place.” The White Lady of Rohan stood before the new King and Queen of Gondor, slender and proud as ever, as she made her request. “Therefore, my lord Elessar, I request permission to return to my brother and to my people. Under such conditions, it would be unseemly for me to remain here much longer.”
Few things surprised Aragorn Elessar Telcontar any longer, for he had seen much over the course of his life, but this was one of the few. For an instant, he actually fumbled for words. “I…I do not understand, lady. Have we of Gondor offended Rohan in some way?”
“Not at all, gracious King.” Eowyn sounded sincere, and for a moment, her gaze was less remote. “I have come to love your majesty, and his noble lady—” Eowyn inclined her golden head toward Arwen—“as well as the people of this fair city. All have made me feel most welcome. But as I cannot remain, there is no point in delaying the inevitable. Have I your majesty’s leave to go?”
Aragorn did not wish for her to leave, especially under such circumstances, but he could think of no justifiable reason to refuse her request. “Yes, of course, lady. I shall make the necessary arrangements.”
Eowyn curtsied. “I thank your majesty.”
Thinking of how disappointed the new young Steward—of whom he had become very fond—must be, the King could not forego asking; “But why, lady? Why do you no longer wish to marry the Lord Faramir?”
For the first time since entering the hall, the White Lady looked the King directly in the eye. “You do not understand, your majesty. The wedding will not take place because the Lord Faramir no longer wishes to marry me.” Before she could be questioned further, Eowyn offered the monarchs another curtsy, and then left the chamber with a haste that was just this side of improper.
“Has Faramir gone mad, or has she?” Aragorn demanded after Eowyn was out of earshot. “Other than you and I, vanimelda, I thought that never had I seen two people more deeply in love than the new Steward and the White Lady of Rohan. I cannot believe that Faramir no longer wishes to marry her! And if Eowyn truly believes that he does not, and goes back to Rohan and her brother with such news, the consequences to Gondor hardly bear thinking of!”
“Quite so, my dearest, quite so,” the Queen interposed. “But for a moment, Estel, think not as a King does, but as a man, and as a friend. This is not just a matter of how politics between Gondor and Rohan will be affected if the wedding does not take place. This is also a matter of two young people who are very much in love, and now are in the grip of some grave misunderstanding. You must speak to them both, and discern what has gone wrong.” As Aragorn opened his mouth, Arwen took his hand and clasped it lovingly. “I know you love them both, my dear one, and would see them both happy again. Call them both together, Estel, and compel them to talk to each other. Both are heart sore, of that I am certain, and it is only by speaking with each other that the truth of the matter will be found.”
~ooo0ooo~
Later, in another smaller and more private chamber, King Elessar sat eying both his new young Steward and the White Lady of Rohan. “I confess I am at a loss,” he said. “I will keep no one in Minas Tirith against her or his will, but I believe, Lady Eowyn, that your return to Rohan would be a mistake.”
“How can I remain here, when the Lord Faramir wishes to break our troth?” Eowyn was looking off into the distance, not making eye contact with either of the men present. Faramir gazed at the floor, but his own face was as pale and as resolute as Eowyn’s.
“Do you wish that, Lord Faramir?” Aragorn prompted, when his Steward made no reply.
“I do,” Faramir said. But his voice was almost inaudible, and Aragorn thought he had never seen the young man looking more miserable.
“Then there is nothing more to be said!” Eowyn snapped, her inner fire momentarily breaking through the outer shell of ice in which she had encased herself. “I will beg no man to love me!”
Faramir’s head snapped up, color flooding his fair cheeks. “Eowyn, I have never stopped loving you! But you are right, you must leave at once, lest I beg you to remain!”
Both the White Lady and the King stared at him. “I confess to some confusion,” the King said carefully, aware of the intense undercurrent of emotion as the two lovers gazed at each other. “Do you wish for the lady to stay or to go, Faramir?”
“Yes, speak to me!” Eowyn demanded. “You have not given me any reason why you no longer wish for us to marry, only this mad insistence that I must go! Have I offended you in some way?” And with those last words, her control failed and she burst into tears.
“Eowyn!” Faramir said, as if in pain, and immediately he was on his feet and across the room, where he tried to take her into his arms. For an instant, she fought him, and then she relaxed into his embrace and clung to him as she wept. He hugged her fiercely, the words pouring out of him.
“Eowyn, White Lady of Rohan, I love you as I have never loved another. I wish to marry you, and make a life and a family with you, more than anything else in all of Arda. But I will not have you die! I will not be responsible for your death, as I was responsible for hers!”
“Of whom do you speak?” Eowyn asked, wiping her eyes. Behind them, Aragorn sat silent, listening.
“My mother.” Faramir’s expression was bleak and intensely sad. “My birth weakened her, she was never again the same, or so my father told me many times. And the last of her strength and happiness was dissipated by living here in Minas Tirith, surrounded by stone. When I saw you wearing the starry mantle that night, I was reminded of her. And then you fell ill, and I realized history was repeating itself, that it was happening all over again—that I was weakening a woman I loved, causing you to fall ill by walling you up in this city of stone, so unlike the open plains of Rohan to which you are accustomed. So I vowed that I would not exact such a price from you! Much as I love Gondor, if I could go with you to Rohan, I would do so, so that we might live together; but I am Steward of this land, and I cannot abandon my King or my duty. So I release you, Eowyn, from our troth…” Faramir’s voice broke, and then in the next moment, Eowyn was kissing him passionately.
“You foolish man!” she exclaimed when they parted. “Think you that I am some delicate plant, which will wither if it puts down roots in Gondor? The illness that I had was but a simple fever, passed from horses to humans and back again, contacted when I helped a mare in one of the stables here to give birth to a foal. It can come on in a manner both sudden and shocking, but no one ever died of it, and I might have caught it in the land of my birth just as easily as I did here! If that is your only worry, Faramir of Gondor, then I shall not leave! I do not release you from our troth, and you and I shall marry!” Laughing through her tears, she kissed him again.
Joy was slowly dawning over his handsome face, as if he hardly dared believe her words. “Truly?” he managed. Eowyn just laughed again.
The King had moved close to them, and now placed an avuncular arm around both their shoulders. “And lest you forget, my lord Steward,” he reminded Faramir, “While I shall sometimes require your presence in Minas Tirith, I have made you Prince of Ithilien, and you and your lady will spend much of your time there. You need not fear, Faramir, that the Lady Eowyn will always been surrounded by stone. With the help both of the Ents, and of Prince Legolas and his people, Ithilien will once again, very soon, be the garden of the Reunited Kingdom.”
~ooo0ooo~
Not long after, the city and people of Minas Tirith were treated to another wedding, not very long after the joining of their new King and Queen. This wedding was of the Lord Faramir, Steward of Gondor, to the Lady Eowyn, White Lady and Shieldmaiden of Rohan. The earlier rumor that the two had broken their troth was dismissed as foolish and unfounded gossip. And many folk were heard to remark that while the bride was indeed most fair and beautiful, seldom had they seen a more radiantly happy groom.