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From:

rednightfall

Eomer shakes his head, not disagreeing but not entirely agreeing either. "When I left her in the Houses of Healing, the morning we left to ride to the Black Gate--she was pale as death, and there was no light in her eyes even for me. I had only just learned how much of her despair I had overlooked or misunderstood, and for how long. It smote me to the heart to leave her in such state."

They leave the hill and turn a little, following a well-worn path. Eomer holds his hands behind his back as they walk, and looks out at the night sky while clearly remembering a darker view. "That sight I carried with me as we rode to the world's end, and even after victory was ours it was all I could see as we returned. To defeat our great Enemy seemed an easier thing than to bring my sister back from under the Shadow. I could not see how it might be done, the more so as she did not wish it." He takes a long breath. "And then I returned, and found her renewed, able to laugh as she had not done since we were children! Sweeter to me was that sound than the ringing of bells, or the singing of Eagles."

From:

theywhowait

Faramir nods, remembering the look of her.

"It is hard, when one you love falls to despair." He says softly. "And difficult, to breach the divide to where they have hidden themselves. But my lord, I am glad that Eowyn allowed me to reach her, for hers is a spirit that brightens all around it, and I would have grieved terribly if it had faded."

From:

rednightfall

"I know it." They reach a long building with many windows, and Eomer opens the door, busies himself with lighting a lantern as Faramir follows him in, holds the light up.

The room contains a huge tapestry loom, easily fifteen feet across. Smaller looms are more common for everyday cloth needs, and even most tapestry work is done on smaller machines than this. This is for making great works, of the sort only kings and nobles can afford.

Eomer steps forward and holds the light, so Faramir can see the few inches that have been completed. "This will take years to complete, but ultimately will show the meeting between Eorl and Cirion, our ancestor and yours, when the Oath of Eorl was sworn, binding Gondor and the Mark as allies." He reaches and runs a finger along the wooden frame of the loom. "A wedding gift for you and my sister, though a belated one. By the time it is finished I trust you will have a room large enough to display it."

Abruptly he retracts his finger, turns and for the first time since they left the Hall he looks full into Faramir's face. "Eowyn asked of me the boon of moving your wedding date forward. I tell you all this so you will know it is not because of a low opinion of you nor disapproval of the love between you and my sister that I intend to refuse her."

From:

theywhowait

Faramir follows him in and stops with a gasp of wonder, standing and marvelling at the loom and the colors already blossoming across it.

"It is beautiful my lord, and I am sure it will be even more so." He says softly. "It will have pride of place in our new home."

He blinks at the statement and turns to face Eomer rather than be distracted by the great work lying before him.

"Might I ask why, my lord?" He asks, puzzled.

From:

rednightfall

Eomer grimaces a little and turns back to the loom. "Were I a coward, I could claim practical reasons. There are many. Eowyn has had the ordering of the king's house for years, and knows it as no other; she has much knowledge to impart. But the truth is simply that I am not yet ready to be parted from her."

Again he reaches for the loom, carefully threading his hand between the taut strings so that he might touch the growing work being made upon it. The corner is dark green and grey, grass and rock, and there is the start of a horse's hoof there. Even in Gondor the skill of the Mark's tapestry weavers is admired, as is the superiority of their wool. One of the many, many things being discussed and traded between the two countries, and being negotiated before the wedding. "Eowyn and I have ever been each others' most trusted friends and counsellors, in all matters. I saw long ago that she was not happy in the Mark, but I had thought at the time that it was because of Wormtongue, or our uncle's sinking state. Mithrandir showed me how wrong I was. Her happiness lies elsewhere, and when the time for our parting comes I will accept it with good grace.

"But...do not let that day come just yet. For I will miss her more than I have words to speak of it, and there is no one more dear to me." He retracts his fingers, rests his hand on the loom, and for a moment looks not like the king he is but merely a young man, overburdened and wistful.

The moment passes, and he turns back to Faramir. "Aragorn and I have made compromise, and agreed that if you wish it you shall remain here for a time, that neither you nor my sister should suffer being parted." A wry grin glints across his face, startlingly like Eowyn's, the kinship between them suddenly marked. "We could give practical reasons for that as well, but the truth is he said you worked too hard and could use the rest. And I would as lief not be made to endure more months of Eowyn making mooncalf-eyes towards the south whenever she thinks she is unobserved."

Edited Date: 2018-07-25 09:31 am (UTC)

From:

theywhowait

Faramir listens quietly and comes over to touch Eomer's arm in understanding.

"It is hard to imagine life without the one who has always been there. Easier for me I think, as Boromir and I always knew we would have to part. I wish I did not have to cause you grief but could reassure you, my lord! I do not think I could do otherwise but love her, and I am very grateful for you to be willing to part with her at all, although I think we both know we cannot stop her doing as she will, once her mind is set." He adds wryly, and flushes a little at the suggestion that he has been working too hard.

"In my defense, there has been much work to do! And... I am sure the only reason I have not been making eyes towards the north is that I have been busy." He admits shyly.

"I miss her every day already, strange as it may seem."

From:

rednightfall

In fact Aragorn and Arwen have both said that the young Steward's gaze strays all too often and too wistfully towards the north, or at least to the gardens of the Healing Houses, despite his workload and determination to be equal to it. But Eomer spares him this knowledge.

To the rest of Faramir's words he only nods acceptance, and grimaces a little ruefully at this reference to his sister's determination--which is a tactful word for her willful nature. "I am glad to know my sister is so well loved, for she deserves it. I would not be willing to part with her else."

A hint of amusement crosses his face, and he adds, "Speaking of her will--until such a time as I wed and have children of my own, any born to her are my heirs. I trust you know your business and will not embarass her, but..." He shrugs. "We are more pragmatic about such things in the Mark, less inclined to count the days between a trothplighting and a wedding. Though in Bema's name, try to be discreet if you can. There are some things a brother does not need to know."

From:

theywhowait

Sssh he thinks he's hid it Real Well.

He flushes and ducks shyly.

"We will do out best to ... hold out. And I will certainly remind her that I have no wish to scandalise anyone! Too much."

From:

rednightfall

Eomer's eye raises slightly, for in fact he meant something a bit more...crude. But if his lawbrother-to-be is willing to be more restrained yet, he will not argue. Though he rather suspects that, as Faramir himself intimated, it is his sister's wishes that will carry the day. It is as well that he had Hilde speak to Eowyn earlier, for that redoubtable lady will have had no qualms about speaking exactly as needed, in a way a brother cannot.

"Mind you, there will be work for you here as well; it would be no bad thing to have more in Minas Tirith who are familiar with the ways and needs of the Riddermark as we negotiate trade and military aid between our countries, the better to heal both from the scars of war. Aragorn says he will spare you for a month. It is not what she asked for, but I hope it is a compromise she will accept."

From:

theywhowait

"That, I do not mind." Faramir smiles. "In truth, even if not for Eowyn's wishes in this regard, I would have suggseted we leave an ambassador here for that very purpose. Our lands suffered from the lack of closer ties, I think, little though that could be helped. It would do us good on both sides to learn about each other more. That it will be me is a happy chance indeed, and I thank you for this gift."

From:

rednightfall

Eomer snorts, and leads the way back towards the door. "Aye, because you do not have enough jobs or titles already, Steward of Gondor, Prince of Ithilien, Lord of Emyn Arnen...by all means let us add Ambassador to the Riddermark to the list, and add yet another for your status as He Who Is Betrothed To My Sister, May Bema Have Mercy On Him For She Will Not...I wonder that you ever find time to sleep with so many responsibilities to juggle, much less time to chase after Eowyn's skirts."

He looks amused, at least, as he holds the door open so they both may depart.

From:

theywhowait

"The nicest thing about an ambassadorship is that it may be easily passed on." Faramir points out with a laugh. "In a few months, once the details have been arranged to everyone's satisfaction, we can consider if the position is to be more permanent, and then consider who might be more suited."

From:

rednightfall

"True enough." Eomer claps his lawbrother-to-be on the back as they leave. "But come, we should return. I know not what our womenfolk were discussing as we left, but I do not doubt it will involve some sort of upheaval. Which is no slight to your cousin!" he adds hastily. "Merely that I know that look on my sister's face too well of old."

From:

theywhowait

Faramir laughs wryly.

"I assure you, anyone who knows Lothiriel will agree with you on that assessment - just ask Amrothos, and he is her favourite brother."

From:

rednightfall

Eomer chuckles. "Perhaps such is the province of all sisters. Is she, ah, known for causing disturbances? From what little I know of her I assume they were all benevolent, or intended to be."

His question sounds casual, lightly spoken, but his eyes watch Faramir closely for the answer.

From:

theywhowait

"Perhaps! And likely you would need to ask her brothers for the best stories. But when we were younger, she and I would often sneak out to go down to the beach - those disturbances, I believe, are common enough! As for other things... well, 'sneaking out' is rather her stock in trade, as I understand it."

He eyes Eomer and wonders privately if Lothiriel has, in fact, already encounter him on one of her escapades.

"But yes, she always means well - I do not think she has a malicious bone in her body."

From:

rednightfall

Eomer manages not to react to this information about Lothiriel, aside from the very slight raising of one eyebrow and the fact that he looks back up the hill where Meduseld waits for them.

"Of that, I am certain. We of the Mark are a inclined to be straightforward, but even here, I do not think I have ever met anyone so artless." He cannot keep the faint admiration from his voice as he says it.

From:

theywhowait

Faramir notes the eyebrow and the admiration, and wonders if his little baby cousin has an admirer.

"She is rather." He agrees. "It comes from being the youngest, I am sure! You will find her quick-witted and rather talkative when excited."

From:

rednightfall

"I already have," Eomer says dryly. "We have...conversed, once or twice. She is most enthusiastic, whatever the subject. And surprisingly keen to learn the customs of other lands. Though perhaps that can be credited to her interest in my sister's union with you."

From:

theywhowait

"Oh?" Oh ho.

"Lothiriel has not mentioned that, but it does not surprise me that she is curious, for she has ever been so. How did you find her otherwise?"

From:

rednightfall

Eomer gives his lawbrother-to-be a look, for though the hint of suggestion is very faint, yet it is there. He looks as though he would like to refuse to answer the question.

But men of the Mark are not easily decieved even by themselves, and neither is the Steward of Gondor. "She is--" he begins quietly, then breaks off, not finding the words he wants. "She seems--"

Eomer walks a few more steps in silence, his brow furrowed, then finally recites, his voice soft and low.

"Where walks the lady limned in gold?
Gowned in petals, o'er the wold?
Sprays of buds alight her hair
E'en as her laughter lights the air
Vána, Vána, Ever-young!
To you be sweetest measures sung
Of silver flowers and meadows bright
Where nimble feet dance through the light."

A scholar such as Faramir will know that as the Rohirrim revere Béma above all others, so too do they have high regard for his wife, Vána, the embodiment of spring and delight, whose blessing is called on all marriages and births in the Mark.

From:

theywhowait

Faramir's eyebrows shoot up.

"Ah." He says, suddently gentle. "I did not think you had fallen for her. Have you told her this yet?"

From:

rednightfall

"No." And in truth he does not know that he has, only that he finds her...oddly breathtaking. But the answer remains the same. "No. Nor do I intend to do so."

From:

theywhowait

Faramir's other eyebrow goes up to meet the first.

"My lord, you mean to tell me that you think my cousin is the Lady Vana's very image, and you are not going to tell her?"

From:

rednightfall

Eomer stops, standing just a few feet shy of the steps that lead up to the Meduseld, and turns, looking over his realm and the starswept sky above it. "We fought the war on two fronts. Saruman burned the Westfold and salted its fields; even now refugees still stagger in from the far reaches." He juts his chin eastwards. "To the East we still vie with the Wildmen of Dunland, some of whom seek peace, others of whom still want only vengeance--and the Eastfold too suffered. It will be years, decades, before the Riddermark is fruitful once more, able to survive without the charity and trade of its allies."

Gondor not least of those, though Gimli and Legolas have spoken to their own kin and sent much aid as well. Eomer accepts all with gratitude and without pride, for his pride--great as it is--is as nothing before the needs of his realm and its people.

Almost as nothing. Some remains, and he shakes his head. "The Lady of Dol Amroth deserves better than anything I can offer. I would not ask her to bear these burdens."