Faramir Fiction Archive

Life is good (G)

Written by Lille Mermeid

19 November 2009 | 2092 words

Life is good
By Lille Mermeid
Rating: G
Summary: Just a happy day for Faramir and Éowyn.
A/N: The characters belong to the Tolkien Estate, the words to me.
My idea of Faramir is as always bound to David Wenham.

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Faramir gazed outside the window of his study high in the Citadel. As always he was thrilled by the view and also by the sounds he could hear in the distance. Children’s laughters, people chatting, a girl singing a love song, a dog barking. Since the defeat of the Shadow the White City has returned to be a city, not only a military encampment with stone walls.

Faramir was glad of this, glad of the smiles he saw when he walked in the streets.

It hadn’t been easy, after so many years of war and only a tiny bit of hope. But now the King has returned, the Ring had been destroyed, evil defeated and problems proved to be as many as before, only different. Everyone seemed to need a moment of the king’s time and, in reflection, of his steward’s and said steward was starting to think that while he owed a lot to his city and his people, he had other duty, first of all toward his wife.

Beautiful, strong, wonderful Éowyn.

When he had first seen her at the House of Healings, they both were wounded in body and soul and their respective pains had brought them close.

After a while the sadness has lifted and he had know that she was the sun in his life, someone to live for, despite all the pain, the losses and the evil they both have faced in their lives.

He wasn’t sure that she would have loved him, he knew she had been attracted to the king and how could not a woman like her raised to believe in duty and courage – but while he knew that she would always had a place for Aragorn in her heart, she would never have committed herself to him under false pretenses. She would never have lied to him and married him without love.

While they waited to be married they had learned each other and the discovery had been really enlightening. They were similar under many circumstances, while really different in others. They both knew about duty and how important it was to think about their responsibilities before their needs and desires. It was for that, that she never bemoaned the long hours of work that kept them apart from each other.

But the fact that his wife understood, didn’t mean that Faramir had to forget his own life completely for Gondor. Gondor had needs, but if such needs weren’t life-threatening, it was not necessary to sacrifice everything for them.

After the fifth day in a row that he had been in his office from early morning to the late evening, the steward decided that it was the moment to show that he reputed his marriage worth of his time, as much as Gondor, especially when the needs to take care of were reports and bureaucracy. Having made up his mind, Faramir got up and went to ask his liege’s consent.

He crossed the brief distance from his study to the King’s and knocked briefly, waiting for the invitation to enter. When he received it, Faramir entered.

“Good morning; Faramir. It’s nice to see you. Are there problems?”

“Not at all, Aragorn.” the steward replied with a smile, glad for the friendship with the king, that allowed such familiarity. “I’ve just come to discuss a personal question with my liege.”

“Please do tell.”

“Nothing life-threatening I can assure you. I have come to ask if you would mind if I dedicated more time to my family and less to the management of lesser aspects of the Kingdom. Since the brunt of putting Gondor on the right direction has been accomplished, I would like to devote myself more to my wife and the rebuilding of Ithilien. All this, of course, if my King agrees.”

Aragorn looked at him for a moment, then answered with a smile.

“Of course, my friend. If you hadn’t suggested this course of action, I was ready to do this myself. We both had been working ourselves ragged since the war and it’s time to start delegating. I was thinking to hire more staff to help us deal with the less important problems. As a matter of fact, I don’t think that the management of the manure is a question of paramount importance.”

“I cannot but agree with you, Sir.”

“So, my friend, take the rest of the day off and tomorrow, too. We shall meet the day after tomorrow and decide how to work less for more pressing matters.”

“Thank you very much, my King. See you soon.”

“Not so soon, and bring my regards to Éowyn.”

“I will.” Faramir added and went away.

The look and the feel of the steward’s quarters in the citadel were very different from those during the rule of Denethor. Faramir, together with Éowyn, had decided to bring light to the dark rooms, replacing nearly everything with objects more suited to their tastes. Shining drapes from Rohan, embroidered in gold and green by the women of the kingdom as a gift to the sister of the King, tapestry from Dol Amroth with seascapes of blue and green, delicate furniture from Rivendell, metal candle-holders from the dwarven realm and their most priced possession: a quilt made by many Hobbits women as a wedding gift from their little friends. While the other items remained in the house, the quilt followed the Steward and his wife from one house to another, carefully packed every time they had to move to one of their homes.

Smiling he called a maid, asking to have his bath prepared. He knew that he had time before Éowyn’s return. While the Steward worked really hard, his wife did the same. She had been entrusted with the management of the restoration of the gardens and stables of Minas Tirith destroyed during the siege. It had required a bit of convincing the council that a woman could do such a job, but after the first results, nobody questioned that as regards horses and their comfort, a Rohirrim was the expert above any Gondorian. And with the advice of the Prince of Mirkwood, the gardens were starting to look a lot better. Faramir smiled recalling the faces of some of the more vocal adversaries of Éowyn’s involvement, when Lord Elrond himself had praised her work.

A gentle knock at the door announced the arrival of the servants with the water. Faramir let them in and waited for them to finish. When everything was ready he thanked them and let them go away.

The water was perfect and Faramir decided to wash his hair. When the bath became cold he got out and draped himself in a big towel. He went to the bed and sat down for a moment. In that moment of the afternoon the house was silent and Faramir felt his eyes close, after the relaxing bath.

“Just a moment rest…” he thought, before surrendering to sleep.

Éowyn crossed the streets of the Citadel with her mind concentrated on the rebuilding she was following. While she still loved the plains of Rohan most, she had started to realize that she also loved Minas Tirith. The White City had seemed so strange at first, so unlike Edoras, but she had began to see it through her husband’s eyes and she had started to see Her beauty. Her work in helping to restore the Citadel was her tribute to Faramir. She was pleased of having being bestowed of the task to rebuild stables and gardens and she knew that the Steward and the King had partnered in convincing the council that this was a good idea and she thought that they hadn’t regretted their choice. Éowyn had worked hard to deserve their praise and she was proud of the success she had had in her pursuit.

The only problem was that she and Faramir worked so hard that they had problems just to find enough time together. She knew the valour of duty and she didn’t begrudge Faramir for doing his, but sometimes she wished she didn’t have to compete with an entire kingdom for her husband’s attention. Not that she would resent him for his diligence in attending his duties to her, because he was always very attentive to her needs and thoughts, but if a day had a few hours more, she would have been happier.

Smiling at the foolishness of her musings, she arrived at the Steward’s quarters. A maid greeted her and took her cloak. Éowyn went to the bedchamber to change and was surprised to see Faramir asleep on the bed, draped only in a big white towel. He looked so peaceful and very handsome in the light that entered from the window and she took her time in watching him at her leisure. He must have washed his hair because they shone on the pillow like reddish gold waves, his beard nearly invisible on his face. His skin was fair and sometimes she had teased him saying that there was Rohirric blood in him, more than Númenorean. He had an archer’s build and the scars of a fighter, like she had. Any other man would have felt strange to have a wife bearing warrior’s marks on her skin, but he wasn’t. He knew the meaning of honour and he had never thought that it was something reserved only to males.

After her perusal she wanted to wake him with a kiss, but she knew better than to startle a former ranger. She needed a plan and she decided to put one into motion. She went to her bedside table and retrieved a small jar of a perfume that Faramir had given her and that he liked a lot. She put a bit of it on and went close to his face, letting her scent reach his nostrils. At the same time, she put her hands close to his, to prevent his eventual strike. She smiled looking his nose twitching and soon Faramir’s eyes shot open.

“Éowyn, love. You are home.” her husband said, his voice full of sleep.

“Yes, and you are, too, earlier than expected. What if I had a love affair and you disturbed me?” she replied, fully knowing that Faramir trusted her completely.

“As a matter of fact, your love affair was here. I sentenced him to the dungeons for poaching in the steward’s lands and was expecting you to explain, but as you can see, I fell asleep.” Faramir replied smiling, trying to get up.

“No, my Lord, stay where you are. Since you sent my paramour away to suffer in the dungeons, now you must replace him and satisfy me as he does.” she answered with a smoky smile and proceeding to unfold the towel.

Faramir did not object and when he was fully naked in front of his wife asked with an impish grin: “How do I fare in comparison?”

“Very nicely indeed, my Lord Steward. If I knew that you were hiding such treasure under the White Tree’s embroideries, I wouldn’t have wasted my time with a lover.”

Faramir laughed and enfolded her in his arms, spreading kisses all over her face.

“I think that you are too dressed, my Lady. May I assist you in removing your clothes?”

“Of course, my Lord. You have always the nicest ideas.”

With Faramir’s help, Éowyn made short work of the dress and they both looked at each other with heated eyes.

“I do love you.” they said at the same time and with a short laugh they embraced again with fervour.

The rumours of the citadel vanished as the two lovers regained their knowledge of each other’s body.

It was evening when a gentle knock at the door woke them up.

“Yes?” Faramir asked.

“Do your Lordships desire to dine in the room, or will you join the King and the Queen?” asked their housekeeper.

“We will dine with the King and the Queen.” the steward replied while Éowyn smiled at the serious tone her husband managed to have while naked with his wife in a rumpled bed.

“You never fail to amaze me, my husband.”

“So do you my beloved wife. Since I met you, life is good.” Faramir replied smiling, while he slowly caressed her golden hair.

The end

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