A Love Profound

by Orangeblossom Took

Eowyn gently stroked her sleeping husband’s black hair as she reflected on their wedding day. The spring day and the ceremony itself had been beautiful. Despite the gentle glow the food, drink and company created in her, she could not sleep. She remembered her initial rebuff of him and winced in pain at the recollection. She then smiled ruefully and almost laughed at herself. As a shield-maiden, humor at her own expense or self-mockery would never have occurred to her but those days were gone.

If someone had told her that she would have gazed at another blissfully while Aragon pronounced her and the Steward’s younger son man and wife, she would have cursed them for a fool. She had, in fact, stood by Faramir and applauded while Aragon kissed his Elvish princess at his coronation. Her desire to die if the future King of Gondor wouldn’t have her had been revealed as the basest pride and vanity.

It was ironic in the most glorious way that her grave beloved had overcome her infatuation with Aragon and, as solemn as he was, had taught her how to laugh. She knew her love was older than Eomer but he looked younger. She remembered Aragon telling her that he was in his eighties. Faramir also had the blood of Numenor running in his veins. She wondered if he would live as long as Aragon and if she would cause him further pain by dying before him. The Rohirrim were short-lived in relation to some of the men of Gondor.

She restrained an impulse to stroke Faramir’s cheek. She didn’t want to wake him in these wee hours of the morning but her fingers itched to trace his high cheekbone and porcelain skin.

“Uncle,” she whispered to herself, “I am smiling again. I want you to know that.”

Faramir stirred in his sleep and made a small, distressed noise. Eowyn knew what had happened must cause him nightmares but, as this was the first night she had spent in his company, this was the first time she had her suspicions confirmed. She knew she still had nightmares about the Witchking. That was one of the reasons she had trouble sleeping. When tears began to stream down Faramir’s cheeks, she held him soft and close. She could sense his tears cease and his body fall into a deeper rest.

Eowyn held her new husband and watched out the window of their room until she could see the trees become outlined in dark silhouettes and the color of the sky change from obsidian to a dark blue as the sun approached the horizon.

She whispered to herself again and said, “I am very happy, uncle.”