[fic] The Dream (Faramir/Eowyn)
The Dream
Fandom: Lord of the Rings (movieverse)
Rating: PG
Ship: Faramir/Éowyn
Summary: The Lord and Lady of Ithilien mark the ending of the Third Age.
Éowyn woke from dreams so deep and sweet that for a long moment they seemed to linger in the air just above her and did not fade until she turned her head upon the pillow. Then she saw the grey autumn sky through her window and heard, very distantly, the rustle of leaves in courtyard below. She closed her eyes again, but sleep did not retake her, and turning her head once more, she discovered the reason; her husband was awake and watching her, his slate-coloured eyes gentle and his lips curved in a soft smile.
After two years of marriage, the dream-sharing was no longer a strange thing to Éowyn, and still a very pleasant one, save for the occasional nightmare. But those were easier to bear when they were not borne alone, she thought as she wriggled closer to Faramir for warmth and for the simple joy of closeness.
“I dreamed of a shore,” he said when her head was rested against his shoulder and her long pale hair spilling across his breast. He lifted a hand to smooth out
the tangles.
“I dreamed of one, too,” said Éowyn. “A grey shore. Or maybe it was the rain. It fell like a great curtain, so heavily I could scarcely see the water. But I did see…”
“…Three stars,” said Faramir. “Above a ship.”
“A white ship.”
“Yes.”
They were silent for a time, and the sounds of the city in early morning seemed to slip even further as together they remembered their dream. How far they drifted Éowyn did not know; Faramir was her anchor and she trusted him to guide her back to herself.
At length Faramir said, “There was a fourth light.”
“Yes,” said Éowyn. “I had just remembered that. It wasn’t the same as the others, but it gleamed brightly. It was lost. They all were--”
“--After the ship set sail, behind the curtain of rain. And then I felt bereft.”
“I did, too,” his lady murmured and felt again the hollow in her heart where the light had shone. “But only for a moment…”
“Yes,” Faramir agreed. “The curtain lifted and the sorrow I felt passed. I beheld the dawn, though until that moment I had thought I faced West. And a pleasant scent came to me, and I felt refreshed. I stood again on the grey shore, but everything around me seemed fairer for that moment of sorrow, the way the spring is fairer for the winter’s passing.”
“I felt that, too,” said Éowyn. “What can it mean?” She looked into her husband’s eyes, but he seemed not to see her. As she watched, a slight frown passed over his features. It lasted only a moment; presently he smiled again and his blue-grey eyes reflected her face and all her warmth.
“The Ring-bearers have left Middle-earth,” he said with quiet conviction. “The Third Age has passed.”
“The Ring-bearers,” Éowyn echoed. “Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, and Mithrandir. But there was a fourth light… Ah,” she said, with sudden understanding. “Frodo went with them. When last they were here, Merry and Pippin did say he found no peace at his home in the Shire. It pained me to hear it, for he bore all our evils. But now he is at peace?”
“I think so,” her husband said. “No--in my heart I know that he is, at last. And I neither pity him nor envy him.”
“Why?” demanded Éowyn. “Have you not found peace?”
“With you, lady? I should think not.” It was as simple as that--a phrase and a deepening of a smile--and she was drawn back from her dreams and wanderings,
drawn back to her room in Ithilien, her bed, and his arms. “But balance, Éowyn,” he said softly as he threaded his fingers through hers. “That I never had, until I met you.”
And for the remainder of that morning they gave no more thought to the passing of Ages.
12/28/03
Fandom: Lord of the Rings (movieverse)
Rating: PG
Ship: Faramir/Éowyn
Summary: The Lord and Lady of Ithilien mark the ending of the Third Age.
Éowyn woke from dreams so deep and sweet that for a long moment they seemed to linger in the air just above her and did not fade until she turned her head upon the pillow. Then she saw the grey autumn sky through her window and heard, very distantly, the rustle of leaves in courtyard below. She closed her eyes again, but sleep did not retake her, and turning her head once more, she discovered the reason; her husband was awake and watching her, his slate-coloured eyes gentle and his lips curved in a soft smile.
After two years of marriage, the dream-sharing was no longer a strange thing to Éowyn, and still a very pleasant one, save for the occasional nightmare. But those were easier to bear when they were not borne alone, she thought as she wriggled closer to Faramir for warmth and for the simple joy of closeness.
“I dreamed of a shore,” he said when her head was rested against his shoulder and her long pale hair spilling across his breast. He lifted a hand to smooth out
the tangles.
“I dreamed of one, too,” said Éowyn. “A grey shore. Or maybe it was the rain. It fell like a great curtain, so heavily I could scarcely see the water. But I did see…”
“…Three stars,” said Faramir. “Above a ship.”
“A white ship.”
“Yes.”
They were silent for a time, and the sounds of the city in early morning seemed to slip even further as together they remembered their dream. How far they drifted Éowyn did not know; Faramir was her anchor and she trusted him to guide her back to herself.
At length Faramir said, “There was a fourth light.”
“Yes,” said Éowyn. “I had just remembered that. It wasn’t the same as the others, but it gleamed brightly. It was lost. They all were--”
“--After the ship set sail, behind the curtain of rain. And then I felt bereft.”
“I did, too,” his lady murmured and felt again the hollow in her heart where the light had shone. “But only for a moment…”
“Yes,” Faramir agreed. “The curtain lifted and the sorrow I felt passed. I beheld the dawn, though until that moment I had thought I faced West. And a pleasant scent came to me, and I felt refreshed. I stood again on the grey shore, but everything around me seemed fairer for that moment of sorrow, the way the spring is fairer for the winter’s passing.”
“I felt that, too,” said Éowyn. “What can it mean?” She looked into her husband’s eyes, but he seemed not to see her. As she watched, a slight frown passed over his features. It lasted only a moment; presently he smiled again and his blue-grey eyes reflected her face and all her warmth.
“The Ring-bearers have left Middle-earth,” he said with quiet conviction. “The Third Age has passed.”
“The Ring-bearers,” Éowyn echoed. “Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, and Mithrandir. But there was a fourth light… Ah,” she said, with sudden understanding. “Frodo went with them. When last they were here, Merry and Pippin did say he found no peace at his home in the Shire. It pained me to hear it, for he bore all our evils. But now he is at peace?”
“I think so,” her husband said. “No--in my heart I know that he is, at last. And I neither pity him nor envy him.”
“Why?” demanded Éowyn. “Have you not found peace?”
“With you, lady? I should think not.” It was as simple as that--a phrase and a deepening of a smile--and she was drawn back from her dreams and wanderings,
drawn back to her room in Ithilien, her bed, and his arms. “But balance, Éowyn,” he said softly as he threaded his fingers through hers. “That I never had, until I met you.”
And for the remainder of that morning they gave no more thought to the passing of Ages.
12/28/03