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These Days of Waiting

Title: These Days of Waiting
Characters: Faramir, Eowyn
Rating: G
Warnings: pairing
Prompt: "And they met once more"
Wordcount: 519
Disclaimer: All of Middle Earth is from the hand of Tolkien.  I own nothing.  I make no profit from the ficlet.
A/N: "But in the morning, as Faramir came from the Houses, he saw her, as she stood upon the walls; and she was clad all in white, and gleamed in the sun.  And he called to her, and she came down." (RotK, The Steward and the King)

When I wrote this, I was in a frame of mind where I tried to mimic the rhythms of Tolkien's prose more than I usually do.  They are just so lovely when he writes them.  I hope it did not come off too awkwardly.

The dawn awoke her from a restless doze, the sunlight filtering through the heavy clouds to the east so that the white stones of the city were washed the color of dust. Eowyn gazed for a long time at the mountains thrusting their dark, jagged teeth into the grey-cast sky. The sun battled faintly through Mordor’s clouds.

The eastern sky seemed darker than ever.

The Warden had moved her to a different room yesterday afternoon, per the order of the Steward. Her window was filled with the eastward plain, the curve of the great river. Osgiliath’s battlements lay scattered amid the water like the fallen bones of some great dragon, long dead and withered. The far ruins of the bridge reminded her of a horse’s skull, and she turned away with a shudder.

She had been content, for a time, to stay in this new room, pacing its length and breadth, leaning on her windowsill and staring out at the mountains until they blurred in her sight. But, all too quickly, the close stone walls grew too solid, too enmeshed, and her room became a prison yet again, one no amount of pacing could alleviate.

For the promise of greater space, if the illusion of freedom, she called the women who tended her, donned a white dress, and found her way in the growing light to the walls. Down below her she could see the Steward’s garden, the trees waking as the sun caught their green leaves, small, early-spring flowers sprinkled white through the grass.

Here she paused, for reasons she did not know. For all she desired to flee these walls of stone, something in her deliberated descending to that garden, as well. She did not belong among these trees, the timidly awakening life of those small flowers, or perhaps she did not even want to. Would it not, indeed, be a mockery of the freedom she desired, the same cage in far prettier disguise? Eowyn sighed, leaning on the wall and letting her eyes wander from garden to horizon and back again. She knew where she truly wished to be.

Someone called her name from below, and she looked to see the Steward walking from the houses. He looked up at her and smiled and his eyes seemed softer and gladder than she had thought them the day before, even though the dawn seemed so grey and dark.

Eowyn looked down at him among the trees and wondered. She had asked the day before for some deed to do, some way to be of use. She could not go to fight in battle, though she wished. They told her to rest, to heal, yet there was no point in that. She expected and desired no healing.

Yet, Lord Faramir had said she brought him gladness. And, if it were to the same cage wherever she chose to go, why could she not at choose this one, to be of some use? Surely there were worse ways to spend the last of days?

She went down to the Steward, and did not know that she smiled at him.





Comments

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
lindahoyland
Aug. 28th, 2012 12:24 am (UTC)
A very true and vivid glimpse of Eowyn.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )

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