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Title: Awakening (#1581)
Author: Galadriel8891
Chapters: 1

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Lord of the Rings (Movieverse)
Description: A short fic about Éowyn’s thoughts as she is healed after her battle with the Witch-King. Please read, rate, and review!
Published: 03 Feb 2005
Updated: 03 Feb 2005
Warnings:
Type: Angst
Characters: Éowyn, Faramir


Chapter 1 - Awakening

Disclaimer: I own neither the characters (Éowyn, Faramir, and Aragorn) nor the dialogue from the film.



~Awakening~


Darkness whirled around her, threatening to consume her. She had wandered in this shadowy realm for what seemed like forever, plagued by evil dreams, assailed by demons. Whether they were of her own making or that of the Dark Lord whose servant she had slain, she did not know.

Spinning, spinning endlessly, not knowing where to turn, lost in shadow, she felt a strong desire to slip away from the world. For what was left to her there? No cousin or kind uncle, both snatched away by death. Oh, yes, Éomer would grieve, but he would be more capable of moving on than she was. He might be able to find love.

Love had been denied to her. She had spoken of her feelings to Aragorn, but he had gently refused. She did not know whether she would have preferred being forcefully cast away. Through her tears, she had not been able to interpret the look in those keen, grey eyes as they held her fast. But that quiet, gentle refusal had torn at her heart so much, rendering her incapable of anything but tears and a stony silence.

And so she had despairingly ridden off to battle. She had planned to die with all the honor and glory she had so desired, if it weren’t for the little Hobbit who had spoken to her and – despite his small stature – shaken her resolve enough to awaken a small flame. The flame of the will to live. Now she clutched at very tenuous threads of life, barely discernible through the dark miasma that swirled about her. A darkness into which she had been cast, in her last act of glory. Was that not what she wanted? Had she not wanted to die with all the honor that Aragorn had denied, along with his love?

No love, save perhaps her brother’s, was left to her. Except for him, her entire family had been shattered by death. In her mind she said a final farewell, preparing to let go of those tenuous strings of life that she clutched…

And then she heard him. The voice of the one she loved, calling out to her in the darkness, a tiny ray of light. At first she resisted. If he did not want her, then why was he gently saying her name, *Éowyn, Éowyn*? She would let go. It would serve Aragorn right when he failed…

But the will to live was much too strong. Silently crying out in frustration, she began to follow those threads of life, the song that was him repeating her name. Gradually, the threads grew stronger and the darkness faded. The dark abyss into which she had fallen had altogether vanished. She barely noticed that the voice calling out her name had changed to her brother's.

She felt something against her cheek. A hand, slightly callused from holding a sword, rested there gently. She knew who it was. Éowyn opened her eyes and looked up into a pair of weary grey eyes. Aragorn’s hand was still upon her cheek. She silently pleaded for him not to move, not to take away that tenderness…

Quickly, he turned around and walked away. Éowyn felt like screaming at him in frustration. Not only had he denied her his love – no, he had lied to her, there had been a lie in that touch – for a second time, but he had denied her the glory of death in battle.

No. There had been no meaning in Aragorn’s touch. He was a healer, after all. Any loving caresses would be saved for the Elf he loved, the one whose jewel he always wore about his neck. In her sorrow, Éowyn would have gladly taken her sword and sheathed it in her body, straight through the heart.

But she was too weak to do anything other than let a single hot tear leak out of the corner of one eye to fall on her hair, which was spread out under her head, a banner of gold. She could barely turn her head to face her brother, whom she had just noticed.

“Éowyn,” he said. “You’re safe.” Relief seemed to wash the lines of worry from his face. His mouth curved upward in a smile.

Éowyn did not say anything. Nor did she smile. She felt as though she would never smile again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Days passed. Éowyn’s broken shield-arm healed. But her spirit would not rise up from the depths in which it had settled.

Dressed in white, she rose from her bed to gaze out the window towards the East. In that direction lay the war. Had she been well enough to travel, she would have taken up her sword and shield and ridden off with all the men of Rohan and Gondor. She would have thrown herself at the armies of Mordor, killing all in her path until she herself was struck down.

But she was not allowed to stray from the Houses of Healing. Even though she was healed in body, her spirit still suffered from the many losses she had experienced so recently. Her uncle, King Théoden. Théodred, a cousin as good as any brother. And now Éomer rode off to Mordor. Would she be the only one left?

And Aragorn was there as well, leading the armies in a last desperate attempt to distract Sauron. It was a lost cause right from the beginning. How could such a small force ever hope to defeat the numberless hordes Sauron held behind the Black Gate?

Merry had gone. Merry, who had been in almost the same condition she had been. A mere Halfling! Yet his hardy spirit had taken much less of a beating than Éowyn’s, and, with his cousin Pippin to cheer him up, he had been allowed to leave the Houses of Healing.

No one would come to cheer Éowyn up in such a way. No one cared enough about her – no one except Éomer, who had been too stone-faced lately to offer up much comfort. The City was devoid of any form of happiness for her. There was nobody left. Nobody.

Little did she know that as she gazed out towards the East, there was another pair of keen eyes watching her. Eyes filled with pity, sadness, and love.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Faramir stood silently in the shadows, watching as the White Lady of Rohan looked longingly towards the East. So beautiful she was, a flower of pure white and gold, a lily, but one that had been touched by frost. He wished to free her spirit of the fetters of wintry grief, to see her happiness fully bloom in the sun.

But now was not the time to approach her. He saw the silent tears fall from her cheeks to the windowsill. He recognized the wounds her spirit had received – loss and grief so incredible that it consumed almost everything else. He knew because he had felt the same. First his brother, brought down with many Orc-arrows as he fought valiantly, then his father was taken in a fit of madness. Yes, his own sorrow was great, but he would shut it away until he saw the White Lady washed clean of hers.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Éowyn heard Faramir’s softly approaching footsteps behind her as she gazed out of the window. There seemed to be little else she could do in the Houses of Healing. She hugged her arms tightly to her body under a soft blue robe.

“The City has fallen silent. There is no warmth left in the sun.” Her voice was a sad little sigh.

Faramir stepped up next to her, looking out the window, following the line of her vision. The sky was bleak. Still, he replied gently, “It’s just the damp of the first spring rain.”

Something compelled Eowyn to look up and meet his unwavering gaze. What did she see there? There was sorrow, surely, buried somewhere inside him. Pity showed itself very clearly. But there was something else.

“I do not believe this darkness will endure,” he continued softly. Softly, but steadily, his eyes never leaving hers.

Faramir’s hand moved to take hers. It was warm and strong, giving life to her cold fingers. Her grip tightened involuntarily. Then she felt something she had not felt for such a long time. She smiled.

And then she moved forward to rest her head against his chest. His hand came up tentatively to stroke her long hair. Somehow, inexplicably, she felt safe within his embrace.

Was this the love that she had searched for?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Faramir held Éowyn gently. His expression was content, for he had fulfilled what he had set out to do. He had mended her broken spirit, and it pleased him to see her smiling once again.

They stood there for several minutes, enjoying the tenderness of the moment. When they parted, they looked into each other’s eyes and smiled, now complete.
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