Part 12

Posted: February 2004
Author: Khylaren

*****

Chapter 12

When the people of Middle Earth decide to celebrate, they certainly go all out, Erin thought with amusement as she watched the revelers eat, drink, and make merry in the huge hall. Tantalizing aromas of fresh baked bread, roasted meats and vegetables teased her nose as the servants carried platter after platter of food out to the long table that graced the far wall. People – men, women, elves, hobbits in particular, were already milling about, filling their plates with good food, and their cups with wine and ale.

She leaned against the wall, her own stomach already full of the King's good fare, and watched as musicians set up in the corner behind Aragorn's chair. Servants were already clearing away the chairs and tables set up in the center of the floor, placing them close to the walls so that people could continue to eat while others presumably danced.

The King himself, Aragorn Elessar, sat on his throne and watched the proceedings with obvious pleasure. He looked tired, but happy as he shared a conversation with his fellow King, Éomer and with Gandalf. His elaborate crown was gone, as was the mantle, but he still looked every bit the King.

Éowyn was standing beside her brother and Elladan, sharing a cup of wine with the latter, and looking utterly beautiful and every bit the princess in her long, flowing white gown. Elladan looked down at her from time to time, his face brightening with a smile as he gazed upon her, and Erin felt a brief pang of envy at the obvious love she saw written on his face.

Erin's gaze drifted over the crowd and she spotted Elrohir and Melaphríl, deep in conversation and totally oblivious to the commotion around them. She smiled as she saw Elrohir reach for Melaphríl's hand and grasp it tightly with his own.

Legolas and Gimli were sitting at one of the far tables eating – or rather, Gimli was eating and it looked as if Legolas were giving his friend a good ribbing about something, if the teasing smile on his face was any indication. Gimli did not seem to be bothered in the least by whatever it was, and she could hear his rumbling laugh even from across the room.

Merry, Pippin, Sam and Frodo were sitting at the table closest to the food, and she watched as Sam prodded Frodo to eat. Merry and Pip were laughing, raising their mugs of ale and sloshing it about carelessly. Even Frodo wore a smile, though it was not as bright as the others.

She drifted over to where the hobbits sat, smiling as Merry pulled a chair out for her to sit beside him.

"How are you?" she asked, grimacing as her skirts got tangled around her legs. She adjusted them and managed to sit in the chair without tripping.

"Happy," Merry replied promptly. "We were just talking about going home."

"I miss the Shire," Pippin said, sighing wistfully over his cup.

Merry snorted into his cup. "You miss the Longbottom leaf, now that you have smoked all of mine."

Pip grinned. "Aye."

Smiling, Erin looked at Sam, who seemed to be lost in a private daydream. "What do you miss?" she asked curiously.

Sam muttered something unintelligible, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he took a quick drink from his mug.

Frodo's smile was gently teasing. "Go on, Sam," he urged.

The gardener sighed and smiled sweetly. "Rosie Cotton," he replied. "The little dimple in her cheek when she smiles."

Pippin opened his mouth to say something teasing, no doubt, but Frodo kicked him under the table and fixed him with a look that dared him to say anything. Pip rolled his eyes and buried his nose in his beer.

"What about you, Frodo?" Merry asked. "What do you miss?"

The hobbit picked thoughtfully at his food but did not eat any of it. "I do not know, really," he said finally. "I miss the sight of green, growing things. And I miss the people." He chuckled softly. "I even miss the Sackville-Bagginses." He sighed. "Maybe I will keep my house in Crickhollow and finally let Lobelia have the house in Bag End. That would make her happy."

"Hogswallop," Sam replied, shaking his head. "Beggin' your pardon, Mister Frodo, but nothing is going to ever make that woman happy."

The musicians chose that moment to begin to play, and the conversation between the hobbits fell by the wayside as the music swelled and filled the hall with sound. In a matter of moments, couples were out in the middle of the floor, dancing and laughing as their partners swung them around.

"Will you have a go with me, Erin?" Merry asked, smiling impishly.

Erin shook her head. "Absolutely not. I can't dance to this stuff or in this dress. I'll fall flat on my face."

Merry tugged at her hand. "I will not let you fall," he promised seriously, though his eyes were bright with mirth. "Come on, it will be fun. You need some fun if you are ever going to live like a hobbit."

She couldn't help but laugh as she followed him, lifting the edge of her dress so she wouldn't trip on it. "Who says I want to be a hobbit?" she asked. "I don't know how to dance like that!"

He ignored her protests and took both her hands in his. "Now, we go this way!" he said, and pulled her along with him. "Now, the other way."

Despite the fact that he was a good foot and then some shorter than her, he managed to be a good instructor, and Erin forgot about looking silly. Instead, she found herself laughing as he spun her across the floor. The song ended and she managed to curtsey, even as she gasped for breath.

Merry grinned as he bowed. "See, that was not so hard. It was fun, too."

Erin straightened from her curtsey and shook her head, still laughing. "Yes, it was fun. Thank you."

The musicians began another song, and Erin felt a polite tap on her lower back. She turned, and found Pippin grinning up at her with his hands held out for hers. With a glance back at Merry, Erin found herself being danced recklessly across the dance floor. More dancers had filled the floor, and Erin wondered how Pip could see around her to keep from bumping into them, but somehow, the hobbit managed. By the end of the song, she was out of breath from laughing and dancing.

"I need a drink and to catch my breath," she said. "That was fun!"

"Did you save a dance for me?" an amused voice asked from behind her.

Erin squeaked in surprise and whirled, her surprise turning to a mixture of consternation and delight. "I'm going to put a bell on you one of these days, Legolas, so you can't sneak up on me."

He took her hands with his and led her into another dance, this one, thankfully, a little more sedate. "Now where would the fun be in that?" he asked with an impish smile. He released one of her hands to twirl her, pulling her back towards him and catching her other hand once more.

It was easier to dance with Legolas – he was a strong partner and managed to guide her steps, even though she felt clumsy beside his graceful form. It also helped that he was taller than she was.

The style of dancing reminded her of the old fifties movies with Errol Flynn. The only contact between their bodies was their hands – and it was probably a good thing, when one was dancing with someone as breathtakingly gorgeous as Legolas. He was just her friend, but if their bodies had been any closer, Erin didn't know what she would have done. Her brain probably would just shut down from the sensory overload. As it was, she was able to simply enjoy dancing with him, laughing as he moved her into an elaborate spin around him that made her dizzy.

When the song ended, he surprised her by leaning forward to brush her cheek with his.

"It is good to see you laugh, meldis," he said quietly in her ear. Then he was gone as another partner whirled her away and onto the floor once more.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Gandalf said, smiling down at her.

She took three steps to the side, curtsied, then returned to follow him across the floor as they passed beneath the other dancers' upheld hands. The more she danced, the more she got the hang of the steps, which were fairly repetitive. It was merely the combinations of them that changed. By watching the others, and by her partner's cues, she could usually guess what to do.

"I am," she agreed. "Though I didn't think I was going to when Merry asked me. I think I've got the hang of this….oops!" She missed the step and went the wrong way. Gandalf guided her back quickly and they fell in step behind the other dancers.

The song ended, and Erin thought she'd finally get the chance to sit down and rest her feet, when another song, a lively, foot tapping tune, began. No sooner had Gandalf's hand released hers, than she was whisked out into the middle of things once more.

Melaphríl grinned cheekily at her as he spun her around him. "I wanted to say thank you for looking out for Elrohir while I was gone. You have been a good friend to him and to myself."

"You're welcome. I…ack!" She was dizzy from twirling. She couldn't even begin to keep track of where her feet were supposed to go. It was enough to simply try to keep up with the other dancers and not get run over.

"Haven't you guys ever heard of the waltz?" she complained, when they finally stopped. She was bent slightly, her hand pressed against the stitch that had developed in her side. "Something nice and slow?"

She finally managed to escape the floor and retrieve her cup of wine. Her face was hot from all her exertions, and she made her way out one of the smaller side doors to the fresh, outside air.

Leaning against the stone ledge of the balcony, she looked down at the torch lit courtyard below her. Her breathing slowly returned to normal and the stitch in her side faded as she watched the people below moving and milling about, some arriving, others leaving for the night. She had no idea what time it was. It felt like it was late in the evening, but she wasn't the slightest bit tired. She felt energized – and, in a word, good.

A cooling breeze ruffled the short strands of her hair and dried the sweat on her forehead and she smiled, closing her eyes in pleasure. It was nice out here. She could still hear the music, but it was quiet, and no one was whirling her like a dervish across the dance floor.

"Am I disturbing you?" Faramir's softly spoken question made her open her eyes and turn to look at him.

Smiling, Erin shook her head. "No. I just came out here to take a break and to cool off."

Faramir smiled and crossed the distance from the door to the balcony's edge to stand beside her, leaning across it and looking down briefly. "I was hoping to ask you for a dance, but could not find you. I was afraid you had left."

She was glad it was dark out here, so he couldn't see the blush that warmed her cheeks.

"No," she was glad her voice came out sounding normal. "I just came out here. I'd be happy to save you a dance." More than happy; down right giddy was more like it, but she wasn't going to say that aloud.

Faramir shifted beside her, and suddenly Erin was quite aware of how close he was standing. The breeze shifted slightly, and she was teased with a sudden whiff of his scent – clean and masculine. It made her want to bury her nose in his neck and inhale for all she was worth. Instead, she gripped the ledge tighter and kept her gaze on the torchlight below.

"I am glad for this opportunity to speak with you alone," Faramir said quietly. "For there is something I have been meaning to ask you these past few days, but have not yet had the appropriate time to broach the subject with you."

Erin turned her head, gripping the ledge tighter. "Yes? What is it?" Her heart felt like it was trying to pound its way through her chest.

"Back in the garden, in the house of healing," he began, his voice soft. "You said something that has preyed on my mind ever since. I cannot let it go any longer."

She couldn't find her voice to say anything to that. It didn't seem like he wanted a reply anyway, so instead, she simply nodded, swallowing nervously.

Faramir took a deep breath. "You said you were glad I did not exchange places with Boromir. And then…you said you loved me."

Erin could practically feel the weight of his gaze on her.

"Did you mean that, lady?" he asked quietly. "Or was it merely spoken in the heat of your anger, and forgotten?"

"I – that is…" Damn it, this shouldn't be so hard, Erin thought, taking a deep breath. "I'm going to be honest, Faramir. It did just slip out – I didn't mean to say it, and I didn't even realize I had said it until later."

"Then," he responded slowly, carefully. "You did not mean it?"

"I didn't say that," she replied quickly. "I just said I didn't mean to tell you, certainly not like that, anyway."

She could almost see his smile in the darkness.

"And how did you mean to tell me?" he challenged softly.

Oh dear. "I don't know," she answered. "I guess I wasn't going to, until I knew how you felt."

Faramir stepped closer, until she could feel the line of his chest against her shoulder. His hands gripped her arms lightly and turned her away from the ledge to face him. Now that she was turned towards him, she could see the profile of his handsome face, lit from the lamps shining in the windows of the hall.

"Erin," he said, and she felt her stomach do flip-flops at the way his voice caressed her name. "You are a puzzle to me, that, try as I might, I cannot unravel. I have never known a woman like you."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" She tried to make her question light and failed.

"It is a good thing," he answered honestly and smiled, his eyes soft as he gazed down at her.

It took her three tries to find her voice. "What…what made you decide to talk to me…about this?"

Faramir's hands tightened briefly on her arms. "I saw you dancing," he replied simply. "You were laughing, your cheeks were pink and your eyes were bright. You were so lovely to behold, I found I could not look away."

Erin blushed to her toes. "You forgot to mention I was tripping over my feet."

He chuckled. "Aye, you were not the most graceful of dancers," he admitted. "Yet never have I seen a sight more enchanting. I found myself jealous of your partners, and wishing I were bold enough to cut in and keep you for myself."

She smiled what she was sure was a foolish, idiotic grin. "So, what exactly are you trying to say, my Lord?"

"This," he murmured, before bending his head to claim her lips with his own.

It was everything a kiss was supposed to be: soft, tender, and hinting at the passion beneath its gentleness. It quite literally took her breath away. His hands crept up to cradle her face as his mouth moved slowly over hers, and she melted into his kiss, her lips parting under the gentle pressure of his. She felt the first warm, velvet soft swipe of his tongue against hers and trembled at the sweetness of his taste. His lips felt so right against her own, as if they had been made to fit her perfectly. Everything about him felt so good, so perfect, she was convinced she was dreaming.

Faramir drew back, his thumbs brushing softly against her cheeks. She could barely see his smile in the shadows.

"Fair maid who has stolen my heart," he whispered, drawing her against his chest. She could hear the rapid beating of his heart beneath her ear and smiled, loving the warmth of his arms around her.

"It's only fair, since you stole mine first," she replied happily.

"Truly?" His voice was soft, but she could hear the amusement in it.

"Yes. Truly," she replied, giving into the temptation she'd felt earlier and burying her nose in the warmth of his neck. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes as his scent filled her nose.

His chest rumbled with his chuckles. "What are you doing?"

"Smelling you," she replied, tilting her head back so she could look up at him. Once she had been glad of the lack of light, now she wished it were broad daylight so she could look her fill of his handsome face. "You smell wonderful." There was enough light for her to see his smile.

"Eh-hem." Someone cleared their throat gently from the doorway. Faramir released his hold on her, but exchanged it for one of her hands.

"Forgive the intrusion, my Lord Faramir, but King Elessar was asking for you and for lady Erin."

Faramir nodded. "Thank you, Gerrin," he replied. His hand tightened on Erin's for a moment as he glanced down at her. "Shall we, my lady?"

~ * ~

He walked her home – or rather, to the Three Hens, which had been her home since arriving in the city.

Elrohir was staying with Melaphríl in the fields outside the city – not that she blamed him for deserting her. If she had a lover waiting for her – she'd have eagerly slept in a tent, barn, wherever, just to be with him.

Come to think of it – she did have a lover, or a love - she hastily amended. Faramir had done nothing more than kiss her and hold her this evening. He'd been a complete gentleman in his behavior, which didn't surprise her in the least. Not that it wouldn't be nice to explore their new found feelings in other ways…but Erin was in no hurry. It was nice to simply savor the little things, like the warmth of his hand as it held hers, and the way he kept looking at her.

Despite being happy from her head to her toes, Erin couldn't quite ignore the little, worry-filled voice inside her that insisted upon being heard.

Aragorn – King Elessar, had made it quite clear that Faramir's duties to the realm of Gondor were far from over. He was sending him to Osgiliath to help rebuild the city to its former glory. He was also making him Prince of Ithilien, which, to Erin's understanding, lay to the north and west of Minas Tirith.

If things work out between you and Faramir, you realize what his little promotion means, don't you, the voice insinuated, refusing to be ignored. How do you feel about the possibility of being a princess?

Scared shitless, to be frank.

And what about the fact that you're no lady, or even a maiden in any sense of the word? How do you think he'll react when he finds out about that?

Erin's happiness faded. In its place was a large, unhappy knot in the pit of her stomach.

This couldn't work. She wasn't a lady, despite the fact that the others had been calling her that out of courtesy. Faramir's new rank deserved someone of higher status, of noble birth. Someone gently reared and bred. Someone like Éowyn – she would have been perfect for him, if she weren't already in love with Elladan.

Erin bit her lip and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. She hadn't thought of all of this beforehand. Now she wished she had. It might have kept her from falling in love with him.

Who are you trying to kid, she snorted mentally. It wouldn't have mattered. She'd been half in love with him the first time he smiled at her.

A tug on her hand told her that Faramir had stopped and was looking down at her with a small frown.

"What is wrong, Erin?" he asked quietly. "You have been very quiet."

Erin lifted her head and looked at him, swallowing the hard lump in her throat. "I need to talk to you."

He smiled, and it made her heart hurt just to see it. "Very well. To be honest, I was not all that anxious for this evening to end."

"Can we go someplace private and talk without people getting the wrong idea?" Erin asked.

Faramir nodded, his frown returning. "What is it?"

"Take me someplace private, and I'll tell you," she replied, looking away from his handsome face.

Without another word he pulled her after him through the emptying streets, past the closed shops and darkened windows of homes, until he reached a small alley. Turning down it, he led her behind him, stopping after a few feet. He released her hand and reached for the keys he wore at his belt. She heard the sound of the key sliding home in a lock and the distinctive click as it turned, before he pushed the door open and led her inside.

It was utterly dark once he closed the door.

"Wait here. I will light some candles," he said softly, releasing her hand.

She heard the sound of a match being lit, and blinked, her eyes gradually adjusting to the light as he went about the small room, lighting candles. Soon the room was bathed in the soft, golden glow. He blew out the match and tossed it in the small stove in the corner, before turning to look at her.

"This was a place that my brother – Boromir – and I would sometimes go, to escape from our father's notice. It was once part of the Inn that shares this building, but this room has been walled off and separate for several years now." He smiled faintly, gesturing for her to look around. "It is not much, but we should not be disturbed. Only Boromir and myself knew about it. And now you."

She nodded, looking around her with curiosity. The stove in the corner would supply heat in the colder months, it's small chimney poking into the wall and no doubt joining the main one for the building. A round table with two chairs sat in the center of the room. A dusty chess set was pushed to the side, the board set with what looked to be a game in progress, though the dust on the pieces gave testimony to the fact that it had been a long while since anyone had played it. Against the farthest wall was a cabinet with wooden doors. A large, woven rug covered the floor. From the look of it, it had probably once graced the floor of the citadel, though now it was faded and raveled a bit on the edges.

"Would you care for a glass of wine?" Faramir asked, moving to the cupboard. "I believe we left a bottle or two behind."

Erin took a seat on one of the chairs, pulling her skirt aside so it didn't tangle around her legs, and watched him pour them each a cup. He carried both cups to the table, and returned to the cabinet to retrieve the bottle. Placing the bottle in the center of the table, he took the seat opposite hers.

Erin smiled weakly and lifted her cup, taking a fortifying sip of wine.

"What is it you wished to talk about?" Faramir asked.

She looked away from him and took a deep breath. "You know I'm not from here, so I hope you'll forgive me for not behaving like a lady of your world. I need to tell you some things, before we go any further."

He nodded and reached out, taking one of her hands with his. "Tell me, Erin. What is wrong?"

Erin bit her lip and looked at him. "I'm scared," she said finally. "I don't know the rules of your world well enough to know if I'm worrying over nothing or not."

Faramir frowned, his fingers squeezing hers reassuringly. "I am a little nervous as well," he admitted. "I have never felt this way about a woman before. But tell me what is worrying you. Perhaps I can lay your fears to rest."

"I guess I should start with the most important one," Erin said, taking another drink from her cup. "This is going to sound horribly blunt, considering we just admitted our feelings for one another, but I need to know before I let myself…before this goes any further." She swallowed and looked him in the eye. "Where are we going with this?"

He blinked, startled by her question. He considered it carefully for a moment, before he smiled faintly. "You are asking what my intentions are?"

Erin nodded. "Yes. Exactly. What are your intentions?"

"To love you," he answered simply. "To learn everything about you. To know who you are and how you think." His smile grew slightly. "You are asking me if I intend on marrying you?"

She held her breath and nodded.

He chuckled, squeezing her hand again. "I did not think a woman would be asking me these things, but yes, Erin. I had thought that we would, if the Valar are kind to us, be married."

Erin let out the breath she'd been holding and closed her eyes. For a moment, she allowed herself to revel in the happiness his words gave her, before she pushed it away.

"I'm not a noble woman," she said, opening her eyes again. "Does that matter?"

Faramir shook his head. "No. It matters little. Perhaps if I were a King, it would matter, but I am not. My King has this very day, given me the title of Prince, but it is a title, nothing more. I will wed whom I will. I will wed the one I love, and titles and nobility do not matter to me."

His answer gave her hope again, but she still wasn't quite done laying her cards out on the table.

"Before I came here, to your world, do you remember that I told you I had been engaged?"

He nodded. "You broke off your engagement because he was untrue." His _expression alone told her what he thought of any man who would do such a thing.

"Well," she paused, shaking her head. "Its just that…before we were married…we…" She looked up at him meaningfully, her cheeks crimson with embarrassment. "I don't know if that's important or not, but I didn't want you going into this with a false picture of what you were getting."

It took him a moment to get what she was implying. When he did, he laughed softly, shaking his head.

"I'm glad you think its funny," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching as she fought not to smile as well. "That wasn't easy to say."

"Sweet Erin," he said finally, when he could speak again, his eyes were bright with amusement. "While virtue is admired, it is not a requirement I personally hold in potential lovers. You do not strike me as a woman who is free with her favors." He shook his head again. "Why did this worry you so?"

"Because in my world, years ago, it was a big thing. You didn't do ‘that' until you were married. End of story. Women who did were ostracized and looked down upon by others. I didn't know if it was like that here or not, but I was worried it was." Erin took a drink of her wine to cover her embarrassment.

Faramir nodded, raising her hand to his lips and kissing the back of it gently. "I understand," he replied. "As I said, virtue is admired. Women who are loose with their favors are looked upon with less than kindly regard. But it is not uncommon for women to take a lover before being wed. A woman's virtue rests in her heart." He smiled, running his thumb over the back of her hand. "You, Erin, have such a heart, or you would not have confessed to me in such a way."

She flushed, looking away. "I know I was jumping ahead of things, but I had to know before it was too late. I didn't want our relationship to progress to a certain point and then have you leave me because I wasn't what you expected, or wanted."

He smiled slowly. "You have been unexpected since the moment I first felt your gentle touch upon my brow, sweet lady. I have come to enjoy that about you greatly. As for what I wanted, I believe I have found that as well." He rose from the chair, using the hand he held to pull her to her feet and into his arms. Smiling down at her, he cupped the side of her face with one, large hand. "Have I successfully laid your fears to rest, lady?"

Erin was lost in the blue of his eyes, how they darkened with emotion as they looked down at her. "Yes," she managed faintly. "I think so."

"That is well," he murmured, lowering his head to brush her lips with his. He lingered there for a moment, before sighing softly, pressing his cheek against hers. "I will walk you home now."

*****

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