"I know it." And he should not have put her in a position where hurting him was unavoidable, should not have...Éowyn's own attempt at a smile, the way she must steel herself before managing it, these things hurt him as much or more than her words of earlier. He should not have said even so much as he has, not yet and not today of all days, when all the world was moved towards joy and rebirth. It could not have been done fairly, and it is well she knows her own self enough to not be thus lulled or pressured into agreeing to anything she is not already certain of. Faramir is no stranger to guilt, but this...
Forgive me, Éowyn.
While retreat is not the greater part of valor, it is sometimes the best--the only--tactic to hand. Before he makes more of a muddle of this, before the friendship they have built is too bruised for healing. Before he says anything there truly would be no going back from.
Faramir lifts her hands and bends to kiss them, once on the back of each, a gesture that neither lingers nor is perfunctory. There is a need in him to show, to see, that some sort of connection and affection remains intact between them, even if its nature is so abruptly tenuous. Though he could not say that there is no measure of self-indulgence in the gesture beyond that wish. "Then I will take my leave of you, Éowyn, until the morrow." Temporary, this is temporary, it is not some sort of farewell, though it has a horrible feel of being one.
But no, it is a farewell of sorts. For whatever comes after this, they will not both be dwelling in the same House, not free to meet as they have been these past days. Faramir already feels the lack of it, and when he releases her hands he feels the lack of them also, and all things are a little colder. "I will see you in the morning."
which of course this will be, but they needed a few bumps in the road
Forgive me, Éowyn.
While retreat is not the greater part of valor, it is sometimes the best--the only--tactic to hand. Before he makes more of a muddle of this, before the friendship they have built is too bruised for healing. Before he says anything there truly would be no going back from.
Faramir lifts her hands and bends to kiss them, once on the back of each, a gesture that neither lingers nor is perfunctory. There is a need in him to show, to see, that some sort of connection and affection remains intact between them, even if its nature is so abruptly tenuous. Though he could not say that there is no measure of self-indulgence in the gesture beyond that wish. "Then I will take my leave of you, Éowyn, until the morrow." Temporary, this is temporary, it is not some sort of farewell, though it has a horrible feel of being one.
But no, it is a farewell of sorts. For whatever comes after this, they will not both be dwelling in the same House, not free to meet as they have been these past days. Faramir already feels the lack of it, and when he releases her hands he feels the lack of them also, and all things are a little colder. "I will see you in the morning."