A poem for Éowyn and Faramir
The sister of a Marshal,
The niece of a King,
And possible heir to a throne.
Such is the manner of the Lady of Rohan, Éowyn.
Grave, yet thoughtful
Behind her cool eyes was pity for
Her beloved Uncle
Betrayed by the words of a trusted advisor.
A face as fair as the morning sun,
and hair as golden as the streets of Heaven.
Slender and tall, but not weak.
This Lady is strong of stature and stern.
"Will I ever be doomed to stay with the women
while the men ride to war?"
This is the Lady's response
that she is to stay
and rule Rohan in the place of the King.
"One cannot be gracious to accept such a position.
Yet, the blood boils in my veins.
I do not wish to be kept in this house like a prisoner.
I do not wish to rot, I wish to die a noble death."
Yet there is deception even in a woman.
Éowyn takes on the name Dernhelm
And rides with the riders of Rohirrim.
Even offers the service of hiding to Meriadoc, one of the Halfings.
These two together slay the greatest of their enemies, save Sauron.
On the battle fields, a great bird had been seen.
Now it swooped for any that may fall for its prey.
Even at the Lady, clad in a coat of mail, all deception gone.
With a swift blow, she fell the great beast
that the Witch-king had been borne one.
Now an even greater danger,
The Ringwraith himself.
The poison, the Black breath.
Meriadoc had gone unnoticed, unheeded.
In a moment of utter bravery, he stabbed the wraith in the knee.
As the Witch-king was falling, Éowyn struck the deadly blow.
As it were so, the great horse Snowmane had fallen
From the blow of the Winged Nazgul.
Theoden lay at the brink of death.
Calling for Éomer, his servants, even Master Merry.
Grieving the passing of his life,
He bids Éomer to break it gently to his sister-daughter.
Even as his dying breathes are spent,
Éowyn is stricken, and deeply grieved.
Now what is to be said of the Steward
for his story is still yet to be told
He was a man,
yet one who should have been born at other times.
Much like his brother in appearance,
yet more kingly.
Marching in from the battles
far from Gondor.
A man much loved by the city.
But not as much as hoped by his father.
For it was his brother
who was more admired of the two.
And now Boromir is dead,
Only a memory.
The fowl creatures of the Winged Nazgul
Sweep over the company as they pass into the gates.
The war is coming,
Coming to Gondor.
As the war is being fought on the very outskirts of town,
the unrest of the Steward is greatly displayed.
Faramir fell in the battle, but not dead.
Not dead yet.
The madness takes over Denethor.
He makes it to the pyre in the hallows
And has taken his son with him
No longer caring for the realm that was once his.
His son lying on the deathbed,
Saved only by the quick wits of the Halfling, Peregrin.
Rushed to find the friend, the one who could save them.
But, alas, it was to late for Denethor.
Once the bed of his son was removed,
He seized the opportunity
and thus died.
Faramir was taken to the Houses of Healing.
He had been caught with the fell breath
of the Nazgul.
Only now was it taking its toll.
The Houses of Healing
After the battles had been won,
and Sauron the greatest enemy destroyed,
The true King, Aragorn, came to the Houses.
There the rhyme was said that the hands of a King
are the hands of healing.
So, thus the rhyme proved true.
Aragorn called for athelas, kingsfoil
Though very little was to be found.
Many were sent out in search of it.
When the Black Breath blows
and death's shadow grows
and all lights pass,
come athelas! come athelas!
Life to the dying
In the King's hands lying!
After the spell had taken,
Meriadoc, Éowyn and Faramir
all quickly recovered.
Recovered, but not completely.
They were all left to the care of the warden.
Many meetings of old friends.
News of the fallen.
Now the King and the Steward would no longer hold councils.
Faramir is the new steward should he accept it.
The deeds of Meriadoc and Éowyn travel far.
News of the slaying of the Witch-King.
Great respect for the Shire people.
Éowyn grows restless.
The Warden says
seven more days
of bed rest, but she will have none!
In the gardens, she can take her rest.
Talks with Faramir.
He is her hope now,
for she cannot have the one she really loves.
Faramir has persuaded the Warden
to allow the Lady
to visit the Gardens
To find her peace in the world of turmoil.
The two grow to love each other.
Aragorn is the King and Arwen ùndomiel is his Queen.
The realm of Ithilien is given to Faramir
If he will.
The wedding is
the most beautiful of the time.
Save for the Queen's.
Thus, together they reign.
The end of the Third Age has come.
The end of the Stewards.
The end of Denethor and
But neither without a fight.