Part 10

Posted: February 2004
Author: Khylaren

*****

Chapter 10

It was strange, how time could seem to both pass quickly and yet drag by slowly. It was, of course, impossible – time passed as time had a way of doing – at its own particular pace. Erin felt that the days had gone by swiftly, but not swiftly enough.

Spending time with Éowyn, Elrohir, and Faramir helped, of course.

The elf had regained his strength and accompanied her on her visits with Éowyn eagerly, grateful to at last be able to do so. He honestly seemed to enjoy spending time with her, and Erin spent several amused moments considering that if Elladan and Éowyn were to marry, then Elrohir would be Éowyn's brother-in-law.

With the slow but gradual return of Faramir's health, he was absent from the room for longer periods of time, and Erin wondered where he went and what he thought about while he was gone. She had enjoyed discovering his dry wit and sharp mind, and learning that his warm and genuine laughter could warm her to her toes.

He was ever polite and courteous to both herself and Éowyn, and nothing in his behavior gave her any idea what he might think about her. He had not mentioned her strange story again, but she caught him looking at her from time to time with a thoughtful _expression, as if he were carefully figuring out a difficult puzzle. His smiles were always kind, and the only thing Erin knew for certain was that he smiled at her far more often than he did at Éowyn; and that alone gave her some hope.

Elrohir sat in a chair next to Éowyn's bed and showed her a variation of an Elvish card game, one that he and his twin frequently played. Erin was trying to follow the game, but kept getting confused by all the different twists to the rules. To her consternation, Éowyn seemed to have no difficulty, and was thoroughly beating the socks off both her and Elrohir.

Sighing, Erin placed her losing hand on the bed and stood up. "I think I'd like to get some air," she said. "Anyone else want to come?" she asked hopefully. Éowyn had been delighted at finally being able to leave the bed, but she tired easily. Still, it didn't hurt to ask.

Éowyn shook her head, sweeping the cards into the pile and glancing up at Elrohir. "No, I want to play another round. Elrohir has promised me that if I win the next hand, he will teach me some useful Elvish words."

Erin chuckled and shook her head at her friends. "And if you win?" she asked the elf.

Elrohir shrugged. "Then the lady will owe me a boon." He smiled mysteriously.

"A boon?" Erin repeated, snickering softly. "Sounds ominous." She retrieved her cloak and pulled it over her shoulders. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes," she said.

"Faramir is probably in the gardens again, overlooking the city." Éowyn did not look up from her cards, but the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile.

Erin ignored her teasing and left, passing through the hall and greeting the familiar faces of the healers as she passed them. There were much fewer patients now in the healing house, and it showed on the faces of those that worked there. Their relief was apparent by the quick smiles they gave her, the lack of weariness and grief in their eyes.

Slowly, the city was recovering from the attack, and Erin was more than glad to see it. She felt guilty that she had not done more to help with the cleanup, but her hands had been rather busy at the time dealing with Elrohir. Now that both her friends were well on their way to full recovery, she supposed she could seek out Eldenthor again and ask if there was anything else she could do to help.

Sighing, she pushed open the door that led to the gardens and took a deep breath, unable to keep from smiling as the warm sun hit her face. It was one of the few places that had not been touched in any way by the war. It was also one of the last places in the city that was green and growing. Elrohir had commented on the lack of growing things in the city, and Erin had not thought on it until he had mentioned it. She realized he was right – Minas Tirith was in some ways, a lot like cities of her own world – all stone and buildings, with little or no greenery in sight. Perhaps, once the war was over and Aragorn became King, he would do something about that lack. He had been raised by the elves of Rivendell, she remembered, and seemed to have a deep respect for nature the same way the elves did.

She followed the small path that wound through the lilac trees and low growing bushes, simply enjoying the breeze on her skin and the warmth of the sun. Someone had planted a climbing rose, probably years ago, and its vines had conformed to the shape of the trellis beneath it, forming a graceful arch across the path. She wished the roses were in bloom, but realized it was probably too early in the season for them, although she had no idea what season it was, actually. She still hadn't quite figured out the weather here.

"They are called Steward's Bloom," a soft voice came from beside her, causing her to jump. She had stopped beneath the trellis and had been staring at the vines, and had not heard anyone approach. "Supposedly they were once called King's Bloom. They only flower when the King or Steward are in residence."

Erin glanced at Faramir, but his blue eyes were on the vines.

"Is that true?" she asked.

He smiled faintly. "No," he replied. "They bloom in the spring, as do all green things, regardless of the presence of Steward or King." He reached out, tracing the jagged edge of one dark green leaf. "Though this one never has."

"Maybe it will," Erin said, watching his fingers drift over the leaves. "It could happen."

"Yes," Faramir agreed, finally looking at her.

Erin was not prepared for the pain and grief she read in his eyes and it nearly made her take a step back. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, before he looked away.

"Forgive me, lady, I do not believe I am fit company at the moment," he said quietly. "I did not mean to disturb your peace. If you will excuse me." He turned to leave.

Without thinking, Erin reached out, grasping his arm lightly. "Don't go, Faramir," she said quietly. "Please. Let me help."

He froze, looking down at her small hand where it gripped his arm. "I do not ask for your help, lady," he replied. "There is nothing you can do."

"I could listen," she answered simply. She was shaking slightly, shocked at her boldness, but she couldn't stand to let him walk away hurting like he was. "Please. I want to help."

Faramir still had not moved. Several long moments passed before he finally spoke, his voice so soft she nearly missed it. "Why?"

Erin bit her lip. "Because I do," she answered, not knowing what else to say.

He finally turned his head and looked at her. His gaze was unreadable. "You do not know me, lady. I am not much more than an acquaintance to you, brought forth only by the coincidence that I share the room with your friend. So I ask you again. Why?"

"Gandalf asked me to look after you while he was away," Erin said. She could feel him pulling away and knew that wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. "But I would have anyway, even if he hadn't asked."

He lifted his eyebrows. "I do not believe I require looking after, lady," he said quietly. "I am a grown man, after all."

Erin blushed, and grew flustered under his steady gaze. "I know that," she answered, flailing vainly for something to say. "I just want to help you. I just do. Can't you accept that for what it is?"

His soft chuckle surprised her and she felt his hand cover hers where it gripped his arm. "I could, provided I knew what ‘it' was, lady."

"Friendship," she retorted, struggling not to show him how much his simple touch affected her. "I want to be your friend, Faramir."

"Ah," he replied softly and she looked away.

"Friends help each other," she continued stubbornly, still avoiding his gaze. "You're unhappy. A blind person could see that. Let me be your friend, let me help."

Faramir's fingers gently removed her hand from his arm, but did not release their hold. "Tell me, lady," he said quietly. "Why I should believe this offer of friendship from you? Why should I trust that it is sincere, considering the outlandish story you told me of your origins?"

Erin finally looked at him, trying to pull her hand away from his grip and failing. "You still don't believe me?"

He shook his head, smiling faintly. "No," he replied. "Despite Mithrandir's words, I am still uncertain what to make of you. You are not like any woman I have ever met."

"Of course I'm not," she said indignantly. "I'm not like the women of this world because I wasn't born and raised here."

"So you say," he countered. "I will agree that there is something about you…" he trailed off, as if uncertain what he was going to say. He shook his head, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "I want to know more about where you come from."

Erin nodded slowly. "I will tell you, if you will talk to me about what is bothering you." She felt her lips curve into a heartfelt smile. "It's what friends do," she added gently.

She saw the gradual acceptance in his brown eyes and it warmed her.

"Very well, lady," he agreed, smiling faintly. "Shall we walk?"

He took her hand and placed it on his arm, and she couldn't help but smile at the gesture.

~ * ~

The days passed more quickly than before. Each day, Erin would visit Éowyn with Elrohir in tow, leave the two with their heads together as Éowyn struggled to learn the words and phrases the elf patiently taught her in his native tongue, and talk with Faramir in the gardens.

At first, she did all the talking, and Faramir simply listened. She told him about her childhood, how hard it was for her moving every few years, never really having the chance to make lasting friendships with those around her. She also told him how much she missed her parents, how hard it was for her sometimes to accept that they were gone from her for good. She found herself telling him things she hadn't shared with anyone else – things she had kept private even from her closest friends. She even told him about the disastrous end to her relationship with her fiancé. She didn't understand why, but it was easy to talk to him, to spill her heart out to him while surrounded by the green and growing perfume of the garden.

Faramir said very little, at first. Gradually, day-by-day, he gave a little more of himself to her. She bit back words of anger at his calm acceptance of his father's callous treatment of him. It hurt her to see the bleakness in his eyes whenever he spoke of his father. She had never met Denethor, and it was probably a good thing. From the little Faramir had told her, she could have gleefully punched the Steward of Gondor in the privates. It was hard for her to understand how anyone could treat their own flesh and blood that way. Still, she was not here to pass judgment – merely to listen, and so listen she did, biting her tongue so hard at times she was sure she made it bleed.

She learned about his brother, Boromir. Only when he spoke of his brother, did Faramir's eyes warm; did he genuinely smile. Despite the fact that Denethor had favored Boromir over Faramir, the brothers had been very close. Boromir had loved Faramir – that much was obvious. Faramir had loved his brother every bit as fiercely, and had been devastated to learn of his death.

Erin worked hard to make him smile, to hear his laugh at something she said. She found herself waking early, looking forward to visiting him and learning more about him. There were moments where they simply sat together on one of the many stone benches in the garden and looked out across the fields below, or watched the smoke rising from Mount Doom. Every once in a while, Faramir would hold her hand while they sat. Those moments were the best of all.

The days passed this way, and still there was no sign of Sauron's defeat, nor the return of the men and elves who had gone to Mordor. The four of them never spoke of it, but as the days passed, the worry grew so tangible it was almost a fifth presence between them.

Erin found Faramir sitting on a stone bench in the garden, staring out at the angry red mountain in the distance. Even from this distance, Erin could swear she could feel the heat from the volcanic activity.

She took a seat beside him and watched the growing cloud of angry looking smoke billow from the top of the mountain.

"My father sent me to die in Osgiliath."

Faramir's normally soft-spoken voice sounded harsh to her ears. Erin said nothing, but reached out without thinking, taking one of his hands between her own and holding it tightly. She kept her gaze fixed on the fiery mountain and simply listened. He had spoken of his relationship with Denethor before, but never of this.

"I asked him if he wished it were me, instead of Boromir, who had died." He made a queer, strangled noise in his throat, as if he were choking. "He said yes." A long, bitter sigh escaped him. "I think at that moment, I would have willingly traded places with my brother. Just to please him."

Erin's vision blurred, and she wiped at the tears that had formed angrily. "Well, I am glad you didn't," she said, unable to keep silent any longer. "Because it would have kept me from loving you." The words left her mouth without her realizing it as she stumbled blindly ahead, her anger finally getting the better of her. "Your father was an utter bastard, Faramir. And blind as well. How could he not see who you are? How could he not see the fine man you became? How could he be so utterly stupid?" Her breath came quick, furious, and she did not realize Faramir had turned to look at her. "Damn it all, Faramir. Don't blame yourself. Place the blame squarely where it belongs. The only thing Denethor ever did that was good that I can tell is that he managed, god only knows how, to father two very strong, intelligent, brave and honorable sons." A sob escaped her and she glared at the mountain, finding that its red angry glare suited her mood perfectly.

"Excuse me, lady," a healer called from the doorway of the gardens and startling her. "The Lady Éowyn is asking for you."

Erin wiped her eyes, her hand shaking slightly from her outburst of emotion, and rose to her feet. "I'm sorry, Faramir," she said. "Will you excuse me?" She wondered briefly at the strange look he gave her as she turned and left, disappearing through the door into the house of healing.

~ * ~

"How go the language lessons?" Erin asked Elrohir as she passed him the bowl of stew she had just filled.

The elf laughed softly, before taking a careful bite. When he swallowed the mouthful, he answered. "Slowly. She is learning, but it is no easy thing to learn our language."

Erin nodded. "I only know a few words myself – maybe someday I'll try to learn more."

Elrohir took a drink of water and wiped his mouth neatly. "I am beginning to see what it is my brother may see in her. She is like sunshine."

"Elrohir," Erin grinned. "That's poetic!"

He shrugged, taking a bite of bread. "She may very well be my sister soon. I am relieved to know we can enjoy each other's company."

They finished their meal and Erin took the tray back to the innkeeper with heartfelt thanks. As she returned to the room, she allowed her mind to drift a bit, indulging in a bit of a daydream replaying the afternoon with Faramir.

His hand had been cold when she held it, and had warmed gradually in hers. She was rather embarrassed to remember her outburst, and hoped he wasn't offended, but honestly, she just couldn't keep silent any longer. She hoped he understood what she meant when she told him she was glad he hadn't died – because it would have kept her from…

"Oh shit," Erin said, recalling exactly what she had said this afternoon. She leaned weakly against the door. Elrohir looked up in puzzlement from his game of cards.

"What is it?" He asked, his _expression quickly turning to alarm when he saw her face. He rose to his feet, reaching for his knife. "Trouble?"

Erin shook her head, burying her face in her hands. "I told him I loved him!"

"Who?" Elrohir dropped back into his seat, looking at her in confusion. "Faramir? When?"

"This afternoon," Erin said miserably. "It slipped out. I didn't mean to say it. I didn't even realize I had said it until just now."

The elf frowned. "Do you?"

She slid against the door until she was sitting with her knees bent in front of her. "No, yes, I don't know."

"Did he say anything?" Elrohir asked quietly.

Erin shook her head. "No, he didn't have time to say anything. I left right after I shot my mouth off about what a jerk his father was. Maybe he didn't notice?" she asked hopefully.

Elrohir folded his arms and gave her a level look. "Do you think he would have missed it?"

She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees. "Maybe?" She sighed unhappily. "No. I'm sure he heard me, now that I think about it. He gave me a rather odd look when I left."

A cough that sounded suspiciously like someone trying to hold back a laugh came from Elrohir, but his _expression was carefully neutral. "Well, I do not see what the great tragedy is. If you love him, you should tell him."

"I barely know him," Erin protested. "He barely knows me. It's only been three weeks."

"Almost four weeks," Elrohir said, lifting an eyebrow. "And you have spent many hours together of late. You seem to enjoy his company, and he does not seem to mind yours."

"But love? I can't believe I said that to him," Erin said. "I'll never be able to look him in the eye after this."

Elrohir's mouth twitched briefly. "I do not think the situation is as dire as you are making it, meldis," he said. "Perhaps you should talk to him."

Erin shook her head almost violently. "Uh-uh. No way I'm going to bring that up. No, I think I'll make myself scarce for a while. Maybe he'll forget."

The elf's _expression told her exactly what he thought the likelihood of that was.

"I could stay here for a few days. Once Aragorn and the others return…maybe in all the excitement he'll be too busy to think about it."

Elrohir crossed his arms and shook his head. "You are not going to hide from your problems, meldis. That will not solve them. I do not understand why this has upset you so."

Erin took a deep breath and lifted her chin. "What if he doesn't even think about me that way?" She hated the way her voice trembled.

He shrugged gracefully and gave her a faint smile. "Then he does not. However, meldis, you must consider this: what if he does? Will you deny that possibility? Will you deny yourself even the smallest chance that he might return your feelings?"

"What should I do?" she asked finally.

"Continue to be his friend. Do not mention your lapse, and see if he brings it up himself. As you said yourself, your friendship is new. If you truly care for him, you will continue as you have done before. If he harbors any feelings for you beyond friendship, he will eventually let you know, one way or another," Elrohir replied. "Give it time, meldis. See what comes of it." He gave her a warm smile. "But do not run from him."

It was difficult to act as if nothing had happened when she saw him again. Éowyn had left her room to walk in the gardens, and that was where Erin found her the next day – sitting on a bench beside Faramir and talking.

"Where is Elrohir?' Éowyn asked, smiling up at her friend.

Erin shrugged, trying not to look as if her stomach wasn't fluttering with nerves at seeing Faramir again. "He mentioned something about wanting to write a letter to his father, though I don't know how he'll mail it." She sat down on the bench beside Éowyn and gave Faramir a shy smile.

"How are you today?" she asked.

"Well enough, lady, though, like the lady of Rohan, I am weary of idleness," he answered, returning her smile.

Erin turned and looked at the fiery mountain in the distance. "When will we know?" she asked softly.

"Soon, I should think," he replied quietly. "One way, or another."

Silence fell between the three of them, until Éowyn rose gracefully from the bench. "I think I will go and see if I can arrange to have lunch prepared. I think it would be nice to eat in the garden today."

Erin rose as well. "Do you want me to help?" she asked anxiously.

Éowyn laughed, and gave her small smile. "No, I do not need help," she answered, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief and humor. "Stay here and keep good Faramir company."

Erin swallowed and sat down on the bench, watching her friend disappear though the door into the healing house. She fiddled nervously with the ends of her tunic, glancing surreptitiously at Faramir beneath her lashes. He was looking at the mountain again, thankfully, and not at her. She fidgeted at the awkwardness she felt, cursing her stupid lapse yesterday. She missed the easy way she could always talk to him before.

Say something! Anything!

"What will you do when they return?" Erin asked finally, desperate to break the silence.

Faramir shrugged and glanced at her. "I do not know," he answered. "The rightful King has returned to Gondor. I will serve him, if he will have me. What of you?" he countered. "Will you stay in the city or will you return to Edoras with the lady Éowyn?"

"I'm not sure," she began, when a distant rumble caught their attention. They rose from the bench, stepping closer to the wall as they stared at the mountain.

A loud, booming explosion shook the earth as the volcano erupted, spewing forth a column of fire into the sky. The ground rolled violently beneath them and Erin lost her balance. She would have fallen if it hadn't been for Faramir's quick reflexes. He caught her and used his other arm to steady them against the wall as the ground shuddered beneath them.

Cracks appeared in the stonework and masonry around them, shingles sliding from the buildings to shatter on the cobbled streets below. People screamed in fear, some stumbling, others huddling, as the earth heaved beneath their feet.

"What is it?" Erin shouted above the noise, clinging to Faramir. Despite the clamor around her, she was very aware of his arm around her waist, and the clean, masculine smell of his neck. She couldn't help but be aware of his closeness when he tilted his head down to answer her.

"I think it means that the One Ring has been destroyed!" he answered, raising his voice over the din. "Sauron has at last been defeated!"

She looked up at him and laughed; filled with joy so fierce she trembled with it. His answering smile and laughter warmed her to her toes. As the earth settled and the tremors subsided, Erin felt herself lifted into his arms and swung wildly around, Faramir's laughter filling her ears.

"They did it! They did it!" She was getting dizzy, but she blamed it on being spun around like a small child in his arms. She felt absolutely giddy with happiness. "They did it!"

"Aye," Faramir replied, setting her carefully back on her feet and smiling down at her. "They did."

The whirlwind of emotions passed, leaving her acutely aware that his arms were still around her. Her cheeks warmed under his steady regard, but she couldn't look away from his face. Slowly, his head lowered towards hers.

"Erin!"

She jerked back as if she'd been stung, and felt him release her.

"Éowyn," she managed, her body still tingling where it had been held against his. "Are you all right?"

The lady nodded, making her way carefully over broken flowerpots and the bits of tile that had fallen from the roof into the garden. "No one was hurt, thankfully, though we are all rather shaken. Are you both well?"

Erin nodded and couldn't help but smile. "Look, Éowyn." She pointed at the column of thick smoke rising from the east. "It exploded."

Éowyn gasped, her eyes wide in shock. "Do you think that means that they succeeded?" she whispered.

"We shall know the answer to that soon enough," Faramir answered her, though his eyes were on Erin's face.

~ * ~

The following day after the eruption and earthquake, Éowyn, Elrohir, Erin and Faramir had left the house of healing to walk along the great wall of the city. The sky to the east no longer glowed an angry red, for it seemed that with the eruption of Mount Doom, its fires had finally been quenched.

Much to Erin's relief, and disappointment, Faramir did not act as if anything had almost happened between them. He walked beside her and Éowyn, and told them a little about the history of the city, when it was built, and the long history of the Stewards.

They had reached the wall on the third level when Elrohir gasped, pointing out at the distant mountain. "Ai! Tiro!" he cried excitedly. "Look!"

The three of them turned to follow where he pointed, but could not see what had animated the elf.

"What is it?" Erin asked, shading her eyes and squinting.

Elrohir turned and grinned at them joyfully. "The eagles are coming! Look! Do you see them? The eagles have come!"

~ * ~

They rode down to the fields below Minas Tirith with an escort of soldiers, carrying the banners bearing the white tree of Gondor before them. Once on the field, Erin could finally see the giant eagles as they flew towards the city, and she could not help but gasp in awe.

They were huge – and utterly breathtaking. She had always had a fondness for eagles, but never had she seen anything like them. Golden brown feathers gleamed in the sunlight as they flew lower, circling for a place to land, and she could see a splash of white among all that gold.

"Mithrandir has returned to us," Faramir said quietly, nudging his horse closer to hers. "I hope he bears good news."

"That is not all who has returned," Elrohir said, his sharp eyes spotting what Faramir's had missed. "The other eagles bear two hobbits with them. I would make my guess that they carry Frodo and Samwise."

Erin felt a thrill of excitement race through her at the elf's words. If Frodo and Sam were here, it could only mean one thing: the ring had been destroyed.

Small dust clouds rose from the wind created by the eagles' great wings as they landed on the grassy field in front of them. Gandalf slid from the largest of the three, and patted its wickedly sharp looking beak fondly.

"You have my thanks again, Lord Gwaihir, for carrying us so swiftly. All of Middle Earth is indebted to your people," the wizard spoke, smiling up at the proud visage of the eagle.

Gwaihir tilted his head, aiming one bright eye at the wizard and bobbed his head once. "You are most welcome, Mithrandir." The Lord of the Wind preened his feathers briefly and turned his sharp stare to the group of horsemen waiting.

Gandalf nodded and turned, motioning for Faramir to come closer.

"My dear boy," Gandalf said, sizing him up shrewdly. "You are looking well. Glad I am to see you, but I am afraid we must wait for later to talk. These two are in dire need of a healer's skills." As he spoke, he reached up and grasped the small figure that clung to the feathers of one of the eagles and pulled him into his arms.

"Frodo," Faramir gasped, recognizing the hobbit. He leaned forward, taking Frodo's limp body from Gandalf and placed him securely in front of him. Turning his horse, he set his spurs to its flanks and sped off towards the city at a gallop.

The other hobbit that Gandalf lifted from the back of the eagle moaned softly and clung to the wizard, his eyes opening briefly. "Frodo…"

"There now, Samwise," Gandalf said kindly, handing the hobbit up to another rider. "You will see him soon."

Erin watched as the rider turned his horse and followed Faramir, galloping towards the city.

Their precious burdens gone, the eagles flapped their wings once, twice, and were airborne quickly and with more grace than Erin would have ever expected to see on birds so large.

"Farewell, Mithrandir," Gwaihir called down to the wizard, circling above them. "Farewell, wherever you fare, till your eyries receive you at the journey's end."

Gandalf chuckled, raising his hand in a wave. "May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks," the wizard cried. "Farewell, old friend. Farewell."

The eagles circled one last time, then flew off to the north, their sharp cries carried away on the wind.

The white wizard leaned on his staff, looking up at Erin, Éowyn, and Elrohir and gave them a tired, but happy smile.

"It is done."

*****

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