Gondor

III

Faramir knocked and opened the door to Eowyn's called "come in". She was in a simple shift, having cleaned the grime of the road away, and her hair brush was in her hand.

"Oh, I thought you were a servant with my meal. I have just requested it. I am sure there will be more than enough food for us both." She set the brush down and moved to his waiting arms, her arms going around his neck as she lowered his head to hers and kissed him. "You are earlier than I was expecting."

"Yes. Fortunately, our King knows how to keep a meeting moving."

"Is all decided?" Faramir nodded. "And will you be going to Ithilien?"

Faramir took a deep breath. "The King has determined that we need to both send reinforcements to the Rangers, and also conduct reconnaissance in the area. I am the one with the best knowledge of Ithilien, so I am the logical choice to go.

"There was, however, some debate as to whether I would actually go."

She frowned. "Why so?"

"It seems there was some concern...about you."

"Me?"

"Your brother believes, and the King concurs, that if I go to Ithilien you will want to go with me. As a soldier."

She stared at him in shock. Then she did something totally unexpected. She laughed.

"My brother–" she laughed. "He can be so...narrow! I hope you set them right on that count."

"Actually, I told them that if you wanted to go to battle, I would march at your side."

Her mirth faded, replaced by the fire of love in her eyes. He knew that one of her greatest fears in marriage was the idea that she would be trapped, with certain expectations and no freedom to be herself. It was a revelation to her when, early in their courtship, he told her he loved her as much for her strength and her valor as for her beauty. The idea that marriage would make Eowyn less than what she was was abhorrent to him; he'd sworn that he would never stifle those qualities that made her so special to his eyes.

Her hand patted his chest gently. "Well, you can put my brother's mind at rest; I have no desire to be a soldier anymore, I told him that before. I fought to prove something, to myself and to the world. I don't need to prove it any longer."

"Yes, well even if you don't strap on armor, the other concern was with our wedding. We must ride as soon as possible; there won't be time to prepare for the wedding we had planned."

She looked away sadly. "Yes, I assumed as much."

"But if I go to Ithilien before we are wed, what will you do?"

"Wait for you," she answered simply.

"As a guest, unable to take your place in Gondor's society as you should. Hardly the beginning one could hope for."

"None of this is the beginning we had hoped for, but some things can't be helped," she said. "Besides, what do I care for Gondor society?"

"It will soon be your society, Lady. It's best if you get to know it."

She just shrugged. "That will come in time, I imagine." Then she looked into his face again. "But I shall miss you, every moment of every day. And I shall yearn for your return to me."

He cupped her hand in his face. He hadn't been sure about the King's suggestion, until now. But now he fervently believed that marrying Eowyn now, before he rode, was the best possible solution.

"The king offered another possibility," he said. She looked at him questioningly. "It is true we won't have time for the large wedding we had planned, and in truth, I would not wish to go from such a celebration directly into battle. But marriages do not need to begin with pomp and ceremony. They can begin with simple vows and a kiss."

"What are you saying, my love?"

"The king offers...that we can be married tonight, if you wish it."

"Tonight!" Her eyes went wide in shock.

"If you wish it," he repeated softly.

She stared at him a long while, as if trying to gauge his emotion. "And you will still ride tomorrow?"

"Or the next day. Not the best of circumstances, I know. But at least we would have tonight. We would have sweet memories to sustain us."

Still she stared, and myriad emotions played across her face. "Tell me," she finally began. "Why did we not think of this before!"

He laughed and pulled her into a hug. "I wanted to. And I know you wanted to. But certain conventions were expected, so I bowed to those expectations. But the situation in Ithilien changes things. We can marry tonight, and when I return, then we can have the feasting and the celebration."

She smiled up at him, then her expression changed to determined seriousness. "And you will return, my love."

"I will return," he whispered and claimed her mouth for his own.

The kiss they shared was more passionate than any they'd had since that night in her chamber in Edoras. His hands tangled in her hair and she rubbed his back and shoulder, a hand cupping his head, holding him to her. Now, with their wedding so near, it felt like he couldn't get close enough to her, couldn't taste her enough. His mouth traveled from lips to eyes, forehead, temple, ear, neck, throat, and back again and she whimpered her desire, her fingers sliding beneath his collar and up his neck to that spot right behind his ear that always sent shivers through him to end at his groin. He held her even tighter, pressing their bodies together.

Until somehow, he wasn't sure how, he finally broke the kiss. They stepped away from each other, flushed and panting. Her eyes were glazed with passion, and he was certain his must be the same. He swallowed, feeling his body throb in remembered response. "I'd better go," he said, unsurprised to hear the roughness in his voice.

She nodded, but made no other move, and he couldn't seem to get his feet going. He finally reached out and cupped her cheek. "Soon, my love," he murmured. He leaned in, gave her a chaste kiss on the lips, and turned away toward the door.

She finally found her voice. "When?"

"What?"

"What time tonight?"

"Oh. I don't know. I'm going to the King to work out the details. I'll see someone lets you know. Though I don't think it would be a good idea to see you again before tonight, else we'll never get to that wedding."

She smiled. Then her eyes widened. "Oh!" She covered her hand with her mouth.

"What is it?"

"My gown. It's still on the road from Edoras."

Of course. She'd rode quickly with Aragorn, leaving most of her things behind. Their wedding shouldn't have been for another week or so, plenty of time for her trousseau to arrive. Under normal circumstances.

"Don't you have another dress you can wear?"

"No. Just a simple frock, and my riding gear."

He smiled. "I wouldn't care if you wore your riding gear, but when I see the King, I'll also tell the Queen of the dilemma; I'm sure she can come up with something."

He wanted to hold her again, very nearly went back and took her in his arms. But he found the will to simply smile at her. "Soon," he repeated. Then before his willpower totally deserted him, he left her chamber.

The King's chambers were in the back of the King's House. The building had fallen into disrepair during the thousand years without a king, but it was being restored to its former glory, albeit slowly. The King's private chambers were the first to be restored, and he and his Queen were just settling into them after months of staying in the apartments of the Steward. There were both advantages and disadvantages to having the King finally in his own house instead of sharing one with Faramir. The advantage, obviously, was that when he brought Eowyn to the Steward's apartments, it would be theirs alone.

The disadvantage was that it meant that Faramir had an extra trip to make any time he needed to confer with the King about something. There had been something rather comforting about having Aragorn right down the hall, especially in the very early days, when both men were so new to their jobs that they relied on each other for just about everything.

But, Faramir realized, they had been doing that somewhat less of late, partly because of the King's absence, but mostly because both of them were finding their feet in their respective callings. While King Elessar would always count the Steward as one of his most trusted advisors, he was his own man and made his own decisions. Faramir, meanwhile, was coming to grips with exactly what being Steward of Gondor in the time of the King entailed.

No, it was better that the King and the Steward no longer shared a house, even a relatively large one like the Steward's residence. After all, Aragorn was newly married himself, and Faramir soon would be....

He shook his head as he walked through the darkened rooms and hallways of the King's house, past those parts of the house still awaiting renovation. It was hard to realize that in a few hours he'd be married. He'd have a wife. And not just any wife. He'd have the best woman he'd ever known, one who was beautiful, strong, proud, intelligent.... One who loved him as no other ever had. It was the most incredible feeling, and he couldn't stop smiling whenever he thought about it.

He knocked on the door and Aragorn answered.

"And?" the King said, holding the door open to him. Inside, the chamber was still adrift in crates and piles of things, as the servants hadn't expected the King and Queen until next week some time.

"We will marry tonight," Faramir answered.

Aragorn smiled broadly, the kind of smile that transformed his face. "Excellent!" He clasped Faramir's arm.

"She would know where and when."

Aragorn considered. "Sunset? As to where... What about the Steward's Garden?"

It was a small garden, little more than a courtyard overlooking the city, but rich with trees and spots for quiet contemplation. Faramir loved the Garden, with its formal paths gone slightly to seed, and its riot of shrubs. It had been his mother's garden, and she'd tended it until she was no longer able to do so. Denethor never used the garden, which had made it a perfect refuge for a son wishing to avoid his father's ire.

"That will be most good," Faramir agreed. Then he smiled.

"What is it, brother?" Aragorn asked.

"I just realized how appropriate it is for us to wed in a garden, since it was in a garden that we first met. In a garden that we fell in love. In a garden that she agreed to be mine."

"And in a garden you will be joined," Arwen added, offering her own smile.

He accepted her good wishes with a smile. "Oh, Lady, Eowyn would speak with you as soon as possible. It seems she is without a gown as hers is still on the road from Rohan."

Arwen's mouth rounded in an O of realization. "Of course! I should have realized." She glanced quickly around her chamber then shook her head. "We are not of a size, but I am sure we can find something. Excuse me, meleth nin." She touched her husband's arm and hurried out.

Aragorn watched her go, a smile on his face. Then he turned back to his steward.

"And how are you?" he asked kindly.

Faramir took a deep breath. "Inexplicably nervous," he said, though he hadn't realized that what he was feeling was in fact nervousness. In truth, he hadn't stopped to think about it at all. He just knew he would soon become the happiest man in the world.

"No regrets?"

"No! No, no regrets at all. But.... But it's still a huge step, even if it's one we both want. It's one thing to speak words of love, but quite another to bind yourself to someone forever. It's a bit...daunting. I want everything to be perfect and I know it won't be. What if, after we're married, she decides it was a mistake?"

"Is that likely?"

Faramir shrugged. "I hope not."

"Faramir," Aragorn began, "do you not trust in her love for you?"

That pulled him up short. "No. I mean yes. I mean that it is the one thing I am sure of."

"Then trust that all be well, and you will live a long and happy life together and have many children. And the boys will be tall and handsome like their father, and the girls will be fair and golden like their mother. And they will all have stout hearts and souls that love beauty."

Faramir gazed at him, seeing in Aragorn's face the love he bore for his own wife, the hope he had for his own future, for his own tall and handsome sons and beautiful raven-haired daughters.

"Were you nervous?" he asked.

"Petrified," Aragorn admitted. And that made Faramir feel much better.

"Who will be there?" he asked. "At the wedding, I mean."

"Whomever you choose," Aragorn told him.

"Small, then. Just family. You and Arwen, of course. And Eomer. And Imrahil, I think. You will officiate?"

"A simple ceremony needs no one to officiate, it is simply an exchange of vows. But if you wish me to officiate, I would be honored."

"I would," Faramir nodded. "Else I'm apt to stand there like an idiot, not knowing what to do next."

Aragorn chuckled and nodded. "Which was why Gandalf officiated at mine."

Faramir smiled, feeling a real bond of brotherhood with this man who, though he was so many years older and though he was a king, was still and all just a man, who had experienced the same worries, the same nervousness before his wedding.

But the thought of Aragorn as a brother reminded him of the brother who would not be there tonight, the one who would not be sharing this most precious of moments with his little brother. Aragorn caught his gaze and must have seen his thoughts in his eyes, for he put his hand on Faramir's shoulder. "Boromir would have been very happy for you, my brother," he said quietly. "He would have rejoiced to see you so happy."

Faramir smiled fondly, seeing his brother in his mind's eye, imagining his grin and the clap upon his back and the brotherly arm around his shoulders and the murmured lewd suggestions in his ear. "Boromir would have gotten me drunk," he said with a chuckle.

"If the circumstances had been different, I would have gotten you drunk as well," Aragorn told him.

"Then it is just as well the circumstances are what they are," Faramir commented, "for I am not a good drunk."

Aragorn cocked a his head and regarded his steward. "My lord prince, I have seen you in a number of situations with a great deal of drinking, and I have never seen you drunk."

"That's because I try to avoid it," Faramir admitted. "Fortunately, I can hold my liquor well, but when I get drunk I get philosophical. Then I get poetical. Then I get maudlin. Then I throw up and fall asleep. Rather poor, as entertainment goes."

Aragorn laughed and put his arm around Faramir's shoulder. "When we get back, my brother, there will be feasting and celebrations. We will make much of it, and everyone in Minas Tirith will celebrate your marriage and know that their Steward has made for himself the best match in middle-earth." They embraced then, and Faramir was grateful to have a man like Aragorn in his life. It didn't mean he would miss Boromir any less, just that the loss was cushioned somewhat.

Aragorn let him go. "I am sure you have many things to deal with before sunset," he said.

Faramir nodded. "Such as making sure the Steward's apartment is habitable for my new bride."

Aragorn chuckled. "I will speak with Imrahil and see that he comes to you before sunset. And you will need to make your vow to Eowyn, so you should probably think about what you want to say, lest you stand up and your mind goes completely blank. I had mine written on a little piece of paper tucked in my pocket in case I went up completely."

"You didn't need it, though," Faramir said, recalling Aragorn and Arwen's wedding.

"No, but it was a comfort just knowing it was there, in case."

Faramir laughed. "I will remember that, my Liege." With that he took his leave.

Chapter 4
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