Slow Journey Out of Doubt

Golden-haired, bright-eyed and strong.

Faramir had called her those things the day before with a smile on his lips that lifted the grim veil over his face. Yesterday she felt pleased. And those were his thoughts now as he watched her from across the garden.

Watched her? She shivered and turned away from his gaze.

Did she truly fear that any dark intent lay in his clear grey eyes? For a moment she worried that it could.

“Éowyn?” Approaching her, Faramir’s gentle hand cupped her cheek, forcing her to meet his eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” she choked. How could she compare Faramir’s eyes to his?

Taking her hands, Faramir led her to a sheltered bench. His brow furrowed, and she read in his grave features great compassion and concern. “Tell me why.”

Éowyn’s stomach twisted with guilt and disgust as in the days when the watching began, when as a girl she had to feel her insides revolt against the dark intent within those other eyes…before the ice had insulated her senses. In a way, it reminded her of a wound, the way one wouldn’t feel the searing pain of a deep cut as it happened and during the initial panic to bind it. Not until the wound was cared for and the patient quieted would the pain of the injury come.

Just so, her barriers dissipated, Éowyn had no choice but to confront her doubts. Those which resurfaced with startling intensity from as little as a look, even from someone as genuine as Faramir: a man she believed herself to love.

“Éowyn?”

She let out a steadying breath and faced him. “I forget…sometimes…that not all admiration need be feared,” she choked. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”

Faramir could not hide his surprise from her, but said nothing for some time. He still watched her, as though he could read the secrets off her face.

Eventually he turned away. Touching his hand, Éowyn silently thanked him for this privacy.

They lingered under the shelter of the tree, each struggling. She no longer knew where his thoughts carried him but it seemed to her that a road stretched out before them, presenting old doubts and new. Hitherto they’d walked alone with their burdens.

A choice remained to share the road, and the doubts, until it ended and new road began, or to save the other from an added load.

“Will you tell me?” he whispered at last.

“Not yet,” she told him. “Soon.”