III

Faramir stepped from his dressing room. He was not completely settled yet in these new, larger chambers, and it had taken him longer than he'd expected to dress. Penil had offered to help him, of course, but he still felt awkward asking his assistant for that sort of personal help. Assisting him with his exercises was one thing; helping him get dressed was quite another. Even if he was getting dressed for his wedding celebration.

Pelia was helping Eowyn, and when Faramir entered the room they were just securing her circlet on her head. It was a new one, befitting her new role as Princess of Ithilien, and while it still had small gold simbelmyne blossoms on it, now they were accompanied by silver stars joined in a delicate band of silver branches twisted into an intricate braid. He'd had it specially made for her before she came to Gondor, and it had sat at the goldsmith's ever since, until he rescued it yesterday.

His own circlet rested on the table, a slightly heavier version, minus the golden flowers. He'd been uncomfortable when the King had presented it to him shortly after the coronation, when he'd named Faramir Prince of Ithilien. It was the tradition of the Stewards that no crown would ever set upon their heads, so the idea of a crown was not an easy one; after all, he was still Steward even if he was also a prince. But Aragorn had insisted that the circlet was a symbol of his status; after all Prince Imrahil wore one, and Faramir's position in Gondor was no less than Imrahil's. So he had accepted the token but as of yet, had never worn it.

Today, however, he would wear it proudly.

Pelia finished securing the circlet and stepped back. "There, my lady. You look very fine," she said.

"Thank you, Peli." Eowyn turned to face her husband. She was wearing a dress of deep green velvet with gold embroidery around the wide vee neckline, and long fitted undersleeves with wide oversleeves with similar trimmings. The dress fit her slender form splendidly, and the color warmed her pale skin. She became a vision in green and gold.

"You do look very fine," Faramir said softly. "That's a beautiful dress. Have I seen it before?"

Her eyes widened and her breath caught, and he groaned inwardly.

"That's the dress you wore last time, isn't it?"

She nodded but smiled. "That's all right. You liked it then, too."

"I must say, my lord," Pelia said, giving him an appraising eye, "you look quite fine yourself."

Faramir laughed. Sometimes Pelia's frankness was rather off-putting, but mostly, he found it refreshing. "Thank you, Pelia." He turned toward Eowyn again. "Is this what I wore last time, too?" he asked.

"Mostly. It was less formal then, so you did not wear your sword, nor your surcoat."

He nodded. "Nor my circlet, I'll venture." He picked the piece up and set it on his head, then stood patiently while she took it off and straightened his hair before setting it back correctly.

There was a knock at the door and Penil stuck his head inside. "My lord, the King is here."

Faramir smiled. "Good. Show him into the garden; we shall we there directly. Pelia," he turned to the maid, "please bring our cloaks."

"Yes, my lord," she nodded, gathering up the two garments, both of deep blue with silver trim.

He turned to his bride. "Come," he murmured, holding out his hand. She smiled and took it, and they left their chamber, Pelia following behind them.

Aragorn was in the garden, looking splendid as always in his black and silver. He did not wear his crown, though Faramir felt sure he would put it on later, before the banquet. He greeted his friends warmly.

"I have come as you asked me," he said, embracing Eowyn, then Faramir. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no problem," Faramir put his mind at rest. "But something you said to me last week got us to thinking." He glanced at Eowyn, who was smiling at him. "Would you hear our vows again?" At Aragorn's look of surprise, he elaborated. "Since I cannot remember speaking them the first time, we wanted to say them again, out loud, in front of witnesses. Or in this case, a witness. A reaffirmation, if you will." He took Eowyn's hand.

Aragorn smiled. "I would be honored, my friends," he said, the affection clear in his voice. "My lady, will you go first?"

Eowyn smiled shyly and her hand tightened on Faramir's. "In the weeks since we last stood here together, I have grown to love you more with each day. When I spoke these words then, I little imagined how soon we would be called upon to test the vows we had made that day. But we have come through fire together, you and I. Through hurt and sickness, sorrow and pain, despair and loss. We have passed under shadow once more and have come again into the light, stronger for what we have faced, because we faced it together. I vowed that day to be your friend, your lover, your companion, your wife. I here renew my vow. I am honored and proud to be your wife."

Faramir gazed on her, feeling his heart swell with love for her. He took her other hand. "I would not have survived these past weeks if not for you. Yours was the strength when I had none, the hope when I was in despair, the comfort when I was in pain, and perhaps most of all, the understanding when I was confused. You have taken me out of the depths and made me whole again. If I could, I would give back to you all the days we have lost. But since I cannot, I vow to make every day with you as precious as you are to me. To be your strength, your support, your comfort and your love, giving to you all you have given me. From this day forward, until the end of time, I am yours."

"Since you have already exchanged rings," Aragorn said, "all you need do now is to seal your vows with a kiss."

Faramir smiled and drew Eowyn to him, kissing her mouth tenderly. They didn't linger; there would be time for lingering kisses later.

They broke the kiss and Faramir looked at Aragorn, who was smiling at them. "Congratulations," he said, "you are still married."

They laughed and together, the three of them left the garden.

"Thank you for indulging us," Faramir said.

"It is no burden, my friends. Indeed, it would be a good idea for all married couples to speak their vows again periodically, lest they forget them. Now, you had better make your way down to the gate. I will see you again in Merethond." The King parted from them and they looked at each other.

"Are you ready for this?" Faramir asked.

Eowyn laughed. "I have been ready for this for at least three months now."

They turned to Pelia, who was holding their cloaks. Faramir took Eowyn's cloak, which had also been his mother's, with its deep blue velvet and silver stars, and settled it on her shoulders, fastening it at her neck. Then Eowyn took Faramir's cloak of deepest blue and attached it at his shoulders.

They gazed at each other for a moment before they smiled. Then he extended his arm and she took it, together leaving the Steward's residence.

They traveled to the stables, where they mounted their horses, two magnificent animals that had been a wedding gift from Eomer. Faramir had yet to ride his mount, as the horse hadn't arrived until after he'd left for Ithilien. But Eowyn had ridden hers frequently in the intervening weeks.

Though his wrist was still tender, Faramir forewent the splinting on it, swearing he was not going through this day with only one useful hand. He'd promised to be very gentle with it, however, so he was careful when mounting to only use his right hand to hold the reins. Once they were settled, Pelia and Penil, who had followed them down, spread their cloaks on the backs of their horses. They looked at each other, then with a smile, urged their mounts forward.

Traditionally, a bridegroom would meet his bride at the gates of the city and escort her to their wedding. Afterwards, the procession would reverse the route as the people of Minas Tirith saw the new couple off on their life together. Because Faramir and Eowyn were already married, they changed the tradition somewhat. They rode together through the streets, which were lined with people all wishing them well. At the main gate, they met their visiting dignitaries, in this case Eomer, King of Rohan and his entourage, and Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth and his train, which included three of his children: Erchirion, Amrothos, and Lothiriel.

The entire party then proceeded back up through the levels to the Citadel, where they were met by Hurin, the Warden of the City, and Cirion, the Chamberlain, along with other senior members of the Council. And, of course, by the King and Queen.

Down in the City, the people of Minas Tirith would be having their own celebrations, with a fairs and fests and much food and drink. During the King's coronation and wedding, things had been too chaotic after the War for the people's celebrations to be too elaborate. It was hard to want to celebrate when you were still mourning the dead and doing without essential supplies. But now, months later, after a good harvest and judicious management of stores, there was food aplenty to be had, and the whole city was in the mood to celebrate with their Steward.

Faramir was touched, riding through the levels, to see the affection and high regard with which the people held him. Denethor, he knew, had been respected and admired. But not loved. Boromir had always been the touchstone for the people, the golden knight who could do no wrong, who would defend his people to the death. Faramir had never really considered how he was regarded by the average citizenry of Minas Tirith. He assumed they thought him a poor substitute after Boromir, a poor captain who had gotten their sons and brothers killed. So it gladdened his heart to see the real joy on the faces of his people, to see them cheer him and Eowyn as they rode past.

Up in the Citadel, the bride and groom were ushered into the Hall of Feasts, which had been festively decorated for the occasion. A table was set on a dais at the head of the hall, and Faramir and Eowyn took their places at this table, along with the King and Queen. The Court of Rohan took their places on the right, and the Court of Dol Amroth, as the groom's nearest family, took their places on the left. The rest of the Court of Gondor filled in at tables on both sides, leaving the center of the hall open.

The food was abundant and the wine flowed freely. Musicians provided a pleasant accompaniment to the conversation and laughter. It appeared that the elite of Minas Tirith were looking forward to celebrating as much as the common citizens on the lower levels.

Faramir had always found these sorts of things a bit awkward, especially in the arrangement of the tables. Here they were, all seated at a long table, with the rest of the gathering watching them. He could converse with Eowyn, of course, and with the Queen on his other side. But it felt very artificial; why did the upper crust want to watch him eat?

Throughout the meal, Faramir kept glancing at his wife. Eowyn looked breathtaking, her green and gold gown, her beautiful tumble of golden hair, her cheeks flushed with happiness and her eyes sparkling.

She looked up, saw his gaze and laughed, blushing. "You are staring," she murmured.

"I'm sorry," he looked down, feeling very awkward indeed.

"Do not be," she said, touching his hand. "I am always warmed when you look at me. Especially when you look at me with such love." She leaned close. "But if you keep looking at me like that, I shall be forced to kiss you, and all these stuffy Gondorians will be shocked."

He laughed. "We've been shocking them since we first declared our love. Let's not stop now." He cupped her face and kissed her, tender and intimate, though again, they did not linger.

Eventually, the King stood and called for silence.

"My friends," he began, "we thank you for joining with us to celebrate the marriage of our dear friends, Faramir, Steward of Gondor, and Eowyn, Lady of Rohan. Although we had intended this feast on their wedding day, circumstances prevented that from happening, and then mischance delayed it further. But now we are grateful to have the Lord Faramir with us once again, well and whole, and be able to celebrate with him and his patient and loving bride. I give you the Prince and Princess of Ithilien."

The company rose and toasted the couple, who clasped hands under the table.

Then Imrahil raised his voice. "Your majesty, I would like to add my own accolades to yours. As Faramir's kinsman, it has been my privilege to watch him grow into a man who is both valiant and wise. He has endured great loss that might fell lesser men, and yet it has made him stronger. And when he was suffering twin burdens of grief and injury and by rights should have been seeing to his own woes, he looked upon one who stole his heart, and by loving her, helped to heal her griefs. And in healing hers, healed his own.

"In Eowyn, Faramir has found a match to rival the greatest heroines of legend, a woman both courageous and compassionate, who redoubles his strength with her own. Their young marriage has already been fraught with trial, but through their love, they have conquered these difficulties also. I see for them a future bright with promise and joy. May their love nurture them as they will nurture the fair land of Ithilien, and make it a garden for all of Gondor, a land full of love. Ladies and Gentlemen, my nephew, dear as a son to me, Faramir, Steward of Gondor, and his beloved bride, Eowyn of Rohan."

Again a toast was raised and Faramir knew himself to be flushing at his uncle's effusive words.

Now Eomer stood. He cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot. "I believe it is my turn," he began. "My sister would have you know I am no speaker, and that is true. However, I would be remiss if I did not say a few words on this special occasion."

He grew silent as he gazed at his sister, and Faramir saw something both sad and proud flicker through his expression. "I need not speak of Eowyn's valor on the battlefield, nor need I mention her grave injury, an injury not just of body but of spirit. When Lord Aragorn went to her in the Houses of Healing, he did not know if he could heal her. He could heal her body, but not her spirit. That would need another's care, and I left with the Host of the West not knowing if my sister would survive.

"But while I was gone, something miraculous occurred; she met a man, a man as gravely injured as she, with as many reasons to grieve, but who had such a tender understanding and a gentle spirit that he was able to heal her heart. I returned from our victory to find my sister more in joy than I had seen her since we were very small children. I soon learned the name of this miracle: Faramir. And I learned that he was as wise and valiant as any man in Gondor. And though consenting to their marriage meant that my sister would depart from me, I knew it also meant not only a strengthening of the bond between Gondor and my people, but that Eowyn would thrive and prosper with this man who loved her so.

"So while the people of Rohan are sorry to let our Lady go, we also rejoice at her happiness and welcome her lord with open arms and glad hearts. My lords and ladies, my sister, Eowyn, valorous Lady of the Mark, now a princess in Ithilien, and her husband, my brother in spirit, Faramir, Steward of Gondor."

A third toast was raised and Faramir was sure he must be scarlet from all the attention and had to blink away the emotions that threatened to overtake him.

Aragorn leaned over to him and whispered. "You should probably say a few words."

Faramir glanced from the King to Eowyn and back again. Eowyn smiled at him encouragingly and urged him to his feet.

He looked at the assembly–friends, family, comrades and coworkers–and his mind completely emptied. He could only stare at them, completely at a loss as to what to say. He started to rake a hand through his hair nervously, encountered the circlet and stopped, wiping his hand on his thigh to banish nonexistent sweat on his palm. He took a deep breath.

"I am asked to say a few words. We are honored, Eowyn and I, by your love and your approbation. My Liege," he looked at Aragorn, "my uncle," he looked at Imrahil, "my brother," he looked at Eomer.

"You may have noticed that we...don't do things the usual way." He looked down at his wife and smiled. "Eowyn is a warrior. And I...I seem to have become a bureaucrat." There was a small laugh at this. "We see our unconventional habits continuing in this, our wedding feast, held a full six and a half weeks after we were married." That got a larger laugh. "Truly, we would not have been so radical if we'd been able to do otherwise, but circumstances conspired against us.

"These past weeks have been at the same time the most wonderful and the most difficult of our lives. I do not exaggerate when I say I would not have survived without the love of my beautiful wife and the support of our friends. When things were at their most bleak, we knew there were people who could come to our aid. I took comfort in–"

There was a flash in Faramir's mind. Suddenly he was no longer in Merethond in Minas Tirith; he was in a small garden, with only their closest friends and family with them, Eowyn standing at his side, looking radiant as ever as he spoke of taking comfort that she would be well-looked after while he was in Ithilien.

And then the image was gone and all the attendees at the feast were watching him expectantly. "I...uh...."

Eowyn touched his arm. "Faramir?"

He blinked and looked down, clasping her hand and holding it tightly, a lifeline to keep him centered.

He raised his head again. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I sometimes...it's sometimes overwhelming, realizing how lucky I've been. To go from such sorrow to such joy.... It is a blessing greater than any I could have hoped for." He gazed at Eowyn again and she came to her feet, still holding his hand. "I look forward to a bright future, with my wonderful wife by my side, and you, our beloved friends, in our hearts. Thank you."

There were cheers and applause, and when Faramir bent his head and kissed his wife, the cheers increased.

When the kiss broke, they stayed in each other's arms for a moment, holding. "Are you all right?" she whispered.

He squeezed her tight for a moment, then released her. "I'm fine," he answered.

Her eyes were concerned through her smile. "What happened?"

"Later." He squeezed her hand, and they sat down.

"My Liege." Imrahil's voice cut through the commotion.

"My lord prince," Aragorn acknowledged.

"If you would permit me, I have an announcement to make." The gathering quieted and Faramir looked at Eowyn, who just smiled at him. "I hope the bride and bridegroom will indulge me for a moment, but on this happy occasion, I would like to announce more happiness.

"Eomer, King of Rohan, has asked for the hand of my daughter, Lothiriel, in marriage, and she has accepted. So it is my pleasure to announce their betrothal."

There was a great cry of joy and applause, and Eomer stood, looking anxious and a little nervous, and walked across the room to his intended, where he held out his hand. Her father raised Lothiriel from her chair and brought her around their table, giving her hand to Eomer, who led her to the front of the Hall.

"Eomer and Lothiriel!" the King toasted, and all joined him.

Faramir's mouth had opened in surprise and delight and he looked again at his wife. "Did you know about this?"

She nodded. "But just since last night. And I had no idea they'd announce it today."

"Well, good for them!" He got to his feet, bringing Eowyn with him, and they went down off the dais to give their personal congratulations to the new couple.

"You do not mind?" she asked, "having it announced on our day?"

"No, of course not," he replied. "I'm happy for Thiri and thrilled for your brother." Then he leaned in close and murmured, "And I'm glad to let them stare at somebody else for awhile."

She laughed and kissed his cheek.

"Thiri!" Faramir said, giving his cousin a big hug. "Congratulations!"

Lothiriel was positively glowing. "Oh, Fari, thank you, I'm so happy!"

"You've got yourself a good man there," he said. "One of the best."

She glanced at her betrothed, who was embracing his sister tenderly. "I know," she whispered. "I'm very lucky."

"We're both very lucky," he said, watching the brother and sister together, arms around each other, heads bent together.

Lothiriel gasped. "That's right! We'll be...in-laws now!"

Faramir laughed. "I suppose we will be. But you're still my little cousin."

She hugged him, laughing.

Eowyn and her brother had released each other and Eowyn moved to congratulate her new sister-in-law. Faramir moved to Eomer and clasped his hand.

"I guess that letter did some good after all," he said, smiling.

Eomer grinned. "Indeed. As did your illness, if you don't mind my saying so. It gave us the time we might have otherwise lacked."

Faramir chuckled. "Yes, well I took that into account before I fell off my horse."

Eomer laughed, a deep laugh full of joy and pulled Faramir into an embrace, clapping him on the back.

"Congratulations, brother," Faramir said.

"Thank you, brother." Eomer's eyes had none of their usual haunted, wary look. It made him look years younger and brightened his entire face. "Thank you for everything."

The King and Queen were there, offering their congratulations, and Faramir stepped away, turning and seeing his uncle, smiling proudly at his daughter and her intended. He went to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Congratulations," he said softly.

Imrahil looked at him, and something in his eyes took Faramir's breath away. Faramir pulled his uncle into his arms, not surprised when Imrahil held on more tightly than his wont.

Faramir patted his back. "Are you all right?" he whispered.

Imrahil pulled back, blinking away the moisture in his eyes. "Yes, I'm fine. It's just...my baby girl is getting married; suddenly I'm feeling very old."

"You're not old," Faramir chided, keeping an arm around his uncle. "Not by a long shot. And anyway, Amrothos isn't married yet."

Imrahil chuckled. "I rather suspect Amro will never marry; he's a lot like your brother in that. He loves his ships too much."

Indeed, Faramir had seen little of his youngest boy-cousin in recent years, as he took to sea as soon as he was old enough to apprentice to a seaman, and came to land seldom. Amrothos was tall, broad-shouldered and handsome, a fine catch for any woman in Gondor, and yet Faramir suspected his uncle was right. Much like Boromir, who had been the best man in Gondor and yet the most unattainable, having dedicated himself to Gondor and her armies, Amrothos had taken the sea as his mistress and would leave broken hearts in his wake.

"But Elphir has already given me a grandson," Imrahil continued, "and Erchirion and his wife are happy. I am proud of how my children have grown up. But still, it's always difficult, when the last one leaves the nest."

Faramir tightened his arm around his uncle's shoulder. "Well, for what it's worth, I always thought of you as what a father was supposed to be. I used to wonder what it would have been like, growing up with you as my father. Whether I would be a better man, having had a better example."

Imrahil frowned. "Different, perhaps. Not necessarily better or worse. You know I often disagreed with your father–"

"Ah, you're being polite now," Faramir teased and Imrahil grinned.

"All right, we argued. Frequently. But no matter how little I liked how he was raising his sons, you were his to raise, not mine. And though I wouldn't wish your upbringing on anyone, Faramir, it molded you into the man you became. It gave you the strength you might not have had otherwise. I remember having a long talk with Mithrandir about you two. And he said, ‘Boromir will shine, because Boromir is like a blazing comet. But Faramir. Faramir is like a star, constant and true. Faramir will surprise you, when all is said and done.'"

Faramir looked down, flushing. He hadn't thought about Mithrandir since they'd parted at Edoras, but he realized again just how much he would miss him. Even though years had passed between their meetings, there was still the comfort in knowing that the wizard would always be there.

As if reading his mind, Imrahil said, "I'm sure he would have liked to be here. But you know how it is with him. He left knowing you were well and happy and had taken your rightful place as Steward of Gondor, with a lovely bride soon to be yours. He was proud of you, Faramir. He saw in you the best qualities of Men.

"And your mother," he went on, and Faramir raised his head, "your mother would have been so pleased. This was what she'd dreamed of for her sons."

Faramir couldn't say anything, just went into his uncle's embrace again.

Sometimes he felt like the luckiest man in the world; he had Eowyn as his wife; he had Aragorn as his best friend; and he had Imrahil as his uncle, dearer to him than his father had ever been. Only Boromir's absence kept him from total joy. But when looked at as a whole.... It was enough.

They broke their hug, smiling and laughing. The formal part of the proceedings appeared to be ended, and the guests were mingling. Faramir sought out Eowyn again, and together they personally greeted many of their guests. Faramir tried to introduce her to several of the higher-ranking men of Gondor, only to discover that she had already met them, during his time in Ithilien. Not only that, but she'd gotten to know their wives as well, women Faramir didn't know at all.

"Well, that settles that," he said, "the next time I have to go away, you can rule as Steward in my stead."

She chuckled and rested her head against his shoulder. "I would rather go with you, wherever you go."

"I know. And I'd rather have you with me, but it may not always be possible."

She shook her head. "We will not talk about separation today. Today is for us."

"Today is for us," he repeated and kissed her.

Chapter 4
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