Eowyn walked out side the walls of Minas Tirith a few days after Faramir rejected her suit. Her back was straight and her stride, though not as long as it once was, remained steady. The healers promised her that she would soon be allowed to leave for Edoras and she longed to see the rolling hills of her country again. She stopped outside Lord Aragorn's tent. She curtsied to him. "My lord, glad am I to see you have returned victorious."
"My lady," Aragorn gave her a sad smile and inclined his head. "Come, walk with me a while." He extended his arm. As they linked arms, she kept careful watch on his face, wondering what he would say to her now.
"I am sorry for your loss," he began. "I understand you will return soon to Rohan."
"Indeed, my lord, for I am not needed here. But I can help my brother and our people."
"Then the situation between yourself and Captain Faramir has not altered?"
"Nay, and I doubt that it will." Tears of shame and rejection glistened behind her eyes.
"Do not weep, my lady, for your fate is still before you. There is one waiting for you, I think, who may surprise you."
She studied him for a moment, recalling to mind the legends of the ruling house of Gondor. "What do you see, lord? Will you not give me ease?"
"Nay, my lady, I can not ease your heart any more than I have, for I have only my own instincts to go by. You are not fated for a cage. I will escort you to your brother's tent and then I must leave you for a while. Promise me, Eowyn of Rohan, that you will not allow your disappointment to cloud your judgment."
Giving Aragorn an odd look, Eowyn slowly nodded. "I so promise, lord."
"Here is your brother." He released her arm and bowed to Eomer before quickly making for his tent.
*~*
He paced through the city wearing his old ranger's cloak and boots. Anyone who saw him recognized him not, as he so desired. He did not want to draw attention to himself and feared the consequences if he did. Nor did he understand his true motives for his clandestine visit. In his mind, he claimed that it was to check on Faramir's well-being. However, he had grave misgivings about his reasoning. He would not claim to have fallen head over heels in love with the young captain. The first glimpses of Faramir in Rivendell had set his imagination wandering, certainly, but not his heart. As he reached the Houses of the Healing, he continued to search his mind and heart, but allowed his feet free rein. He approached Faramir's cubicle and pulled aside the curtain. Dismayed, he surveyed the empty room. All of the captain's few possessions were gone and the bed neatly made. Taking a chance, Aragorn dredged his memory, and began stealing along secret passages and corridors, seeking the level of the ruling family. There, he hoped to find Faramir.
The journey to Faramir took far longer than he expected and he had been forced to duck into empty doorways and rooms several times to avoid detection. At last, he reached the right area and, after carefully reconnoitering, discovered the right room. He drew back his hood and knocked on the stout wooden door. The latch clicked and the door swung open, revealing Faramir.
The captain did not seem surprised to see the future king. "Lord Aragorn," he said simply as he held the door wide.
Aragorn slipped into the room and looked around. The apartments were luxurious and well appointed, as befitting the station of their occupant. "So the healers have deemed you well enough to resume your former apartments. If that is so, you are well enough to make a decision concerning your future in Gondor."
Faramir hid his wince. "I am still in a quandary, Lord, as I do not know what I could do in Minas Tirith besides be underfoot and a constant reminder of the man who did not want to see the king returned to his proper place."
"Denethor has nothing to do with you or your role here, now. Neither does Boromir. Both saw a different future for Minas Tirith and Gondor. But that future has not come to pass." He stared into Faramir's eyes, trying to read the younger man. What could he say to him that would not frighten or embarrass him? Dare he tell him that he'd walked through the dark corridors of his mind and seen the pain and loss, though not the cause? Did he dare suggest that he could ease the shadows hovering so close?
"Is it your wish, then, that I take up the familial duties? What need have you of a steward, Lord Aragorn?"
"I do not need a steward, Faramir." Aragorn chose the familiar. "I need friends and advisors whom I trust and respect. I need men of patience and strength to help rebuild what has so long decayed. Gondor is weak, despite our victories. I need those willing to help me to rebuild and reclaim all that was once ours to stand at my side." He watched Faramir's internal struggle and gambled one last time. "I need a warrior at my side. I claimed you from the shadows, Faramir. I saw the torment and doubts."
Faramir could not hold Aragorn's intense gaze and shifted from foot to foot, like a child called to task. "Then you know the full measure of my relationship with Boromir.
"I do not know the details, nor did I truly know it was he who had held and broken your heart. Much I guessed, but not all. Faramir," now Aragorn moved forward slowly, as if approaching a wild animal. "You defied your heart and stood on principle and have paid terribly for it. I would not see you pay more than was your due. I cannot judge the actions between yourself and Boromir for I am not worthy to judge another man's heart. But I say to you, again, Boromir is gone. Release him; release yourself." His hand came up and he laid it upon Faramir's shoulder.
Faramir felt peace surrounding him, like he hadn't felt since his return to Dol Amroth from Rivendell. True, what happened between he and Boromir was no one's fault and, true, he loved a man he should not have loved. He would bear that scar for a long time. Hesitantly, he took a step forward and felt Aragorn's hand slide from his shoulder to the back of his neck. "What do you want of me, my lord?"
"Nothing that you are not willing to give." Aragorn applied pressure to Faramir and felt the captain slowly come forward again until their bodies nearly touched. He did not move suddenly or forcefully, but allowed Faramir to decide how much space should separate them. "Take your rightful place in Gondor; swear allegiance to me, Faramir."
Faramir laid his head on Aragorn's shoulder. Strong hands lightly caressed his back and shoulders and he allowed them to smooth away his tension. "To you or the crown?"
"Whichever you are comfortable with, I will accept. I know that as a man, you are not ready for what I offer. As a warrior and a captain, as Denethor's remaining heir, you are ready for what Gondor offers." Aragorn finally admitted the truth to the both of them. He closed his eyes, breathed Faramir's scent, and acknowledged that he was ready to give his heart to the hero.
Faramir stepped back and would have knelt before Aragorn, but the king would not allow it. "Nay, Faramir, do not kneel before Strider the Ranger. Look at me, and tell me that you will stay and take your place. Let me see the answer in your eyes."
Raising his head, the captain squarely met Aragorn's intense gaze. His jaw set and the shoulders which had been bowed beneath the weight of guilt and sorrow shifted. "I swear my allegiance to you, Aragorn."
Aragorn brushed a stray lock of hair from Faramir's forehead. "Seal our bargain with a kiss."
Faramir licked his lips and then leaned forward until his breath mingled with Aragorn's. Their lips touched briefly and they drew apart. "I must return to the field or else I will be missed." Before Faramir could react, Aragorn was gone.
*~*
Imrahil smiled as he saw Eomer escorting Eowyn back to the House of Healing. Her skin glowed and the unnaturally frail look that had been the after affects of her brush with death was slowly replaced by a vitality that could only mark her as a Rohirrim. Eowyn returned his smile with one of her own and her entire face lit up from within. Eomer, on the other hand, cast his dark eyes sideways and his straight brows drew down over the bridge of his nose. He only nodded to the prince as they passed.
Imrahil was not offended by the slight. Far from it, in fact, for he had obviously made his point with Eomer. Perhaps, he mused, he had made it too well.
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