He Knew…

First. Special. It was something that he was not accustomed to feeling. His father had made sure of that. He still could not think of Denethor without the vestiges of pain, regret and sorrow, but curiously no anger. He was the reason Faramir found it difficult at first to realise that Eowyn truly loved him. Faramir looked at Eowyn’s sleeping form and past her to the cot in which their baby son, named for his beloved older brother, slept. His heart was filled with gratitude that Eowyn could love him. That anyone could truly love him. His father’s scorn, his temper, his indifference, his hand had scarred the sensitive, fey child that Faramir had been. Always overlooked or forgotten about or doubted as a child and then as a young man, it had left a mark on Faramir as an adult.

Faramir guessed that was why he would have such trouble being stern with his own son, why he would encourage him to express his feelings and not hold anything back. He knew that he would have to be firm with him at some point in his childhood, and he would. But Faramir had spent a lifetime holding his feelings back, afraid of his father’s wrath or worse his indifference. When his father was angry then at least the little boy knew that his father remembered he existed. When he simply turned his back, Faramir felt like nothing, as if he didn’t even exist. He would not have his beloved son endure similar torment.

Boromir had been his salvation. The love of his older brother had meant everything to Faramir growing up. He was always there after Father had been particularly scathing or had let fly a careless hand to teach his “weak” younger son a lesson. He was there to hug the young boy or merely be silent companionship while Faramir, as a young man, had to work through the latest humiliation from his father. Until Eowyn, Boromir was the only one who knew the extent of pain Denethor caused his second son. The only person who had the privilege of seeing Faramir cry since Father had humiliated him in public when he was seven.

It nearly crushed to Faramir to learn of Boromir’s death, but they were in the midst of war and indulging in personal feelings was a luxury when the Free Peoples of the West were fighting for their very survival. After the war had been won there had still been so much to do. Aragorn needed him to be strong and stand by his side as he guided Gondor back to the paths of former glory. He had come to respect and love Aragorn almost as a brother. But he still could not open up completely to him. Although he knew that should he ever show his sensitive self to Aragorn, he would not have to endure the scorn that Denethor so easily heaped upon his youngest, still he could not bare his wounded soul to the man he had come to respect so deeply.

It wasn’t until he and Eowyn were reunited after Theoden’s burial and become troth-plight did he dare to think that someone other than his beloved brother would care, could care enough to know what lay in his soul, both happy and sad. There was much there, buried after Boromir’s death.

Eowyn had come through her own doubts and her own pain, to fall in love with Faramir in the Houses of Healing in the last days of the Ring War. It had been Faramir, then, who had helped her find her worth as a person with his love, freely given.

Eowyn returned the favour during the first year of their marriage. It wasn’t until then did Faramir dare to show the self that he had learned to hide so efficiently. There had been times he doubted her love, more through his own feelings of unworthiness rather than anything that she did. But Faramir slowly began to open up to her and tell her of the pain in his soul. With each relevation, with each tear shed, Faramir saw that she wasn’t turning away in disgust. She wasn’t calling him “weak” and “soft.” She helped him accept Boromir’s death and accept that she loved him and would never go away, as his mother had or ridicule him as his father had so often.

Faramir drew strength from her and learned that he could reveal himself to the world without fear of failure or rejection. He was no longer a prisoner trapped within himself. The thought was dizziness, overwhelming as he pondered how much she had given him. Love, happiness, a contentment within himself, a son whom he could raise to be a strong, noble man like his uncle. Tears welled up in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss her blond brow, a tear gently slipping from his cheek onto her fair light freckled skin. She stirred and opened her eyes and saw his tear-filled face staring back at her, defences down, breath withheld. She sat up in bed, the bedclothes falling around her, her eyes filled with concern, “My love, what is wrong? Tell me, please.”

Her husband swallowed and whispered, “Nothing. I love you and am still sometimes amazed that you love me.” Earnest, pained blue eyes stared back at her.

Eowyn’s heart broke. She gently kissed away his tears, kissed his closed eyes, drying his face as best she could, whispering all the time, “Please believe I love you.” She softly cupped his head in her hands and stared straight into the troubled blue depths of his eyes. “I could never love anyone as much as I love you.”

At this Faramir hugged her as if he was holding on for dear life, whispering, “I love you so much, please don’t ever leave me!”

“Never, My heart.” she fervently said smoothing his hair as she would a child. She kissed the top of his reddish blond head and his brow as he grew more relaxed, eventually slipping into sleep.

For the thousandth she cursed Denethor’s name. She knew it was wrong to have such harsh thoughts about the dead, but she couldn’t help herself. The cruel, insensitive horror of a man who helped bring this beautiful person into the world and then did all he could to try and crush his spirit. She would never understand such wanton cruelty, she thought with the fierceness of a mother protecting her young.

She reflected upon Faramir’s earlier words, “Sometimes I’m amazed that you love me.” The thought boggled her mind, Denethor had so throughly convinced his second son of his worthlessness and thereby only built into Faramir a desire to continually try and earn the love of a man who could never accept or even understand the love that his son wanted so desperately to give him. Denethor was in no way worthy of the love he threw away from such a good and noble man.

The only amazing thing was that I didn’t love him sooner. Eowyn had been consumed by her own demons when she first met Faramir in the Houses of Healing in the last days of the Ring War. He was gentle and kind to her, usually trying to distract her from her troubles by getting her to talk or laugh. At times he simply sought to be with her, lending his strong yet gentle presence to her troubled soul. When he went to take up his position as Steward of the City, she asked that he see her no more, so confused was she, so at war with herself. He tried then to say what was in his heart, but she stopped him, afraid of what he might say, although she already knew, unable to respond to it. He did her bidding and stayed away, although she now knew it pained him greatly to do so. But it was what she had thought she wanted. It was not.

The next time they saw each other, he said what was in his heart and this time she was ready to hear him and joy swept through her. She thanked the Valar every day that she had not been punished for her earlier folly and embraced the love and life that he offered her.

It was only then, with her heart healed of its own pain, that she began to sense his. She could sense it even though it was obvious that he had become very skilled at hiding it. She longed to ease his pain, but she knew she could do nothing until he trusted her enough to unwrap his thoughts and offer them to her freely. She didn’t know if that would ever happen because she sensed a great deal of anguish hidden or denied within him. She remembered thinking that she would need to be patient, in the meantime she could only love him and let him know that she was there.

He was such an easy man to love. Strong, yet kind and intelligent. Fiercely loyal but with a very strong sense of right and wrong. He could be amazingly gentle and patient with everybody but himself. His men would have travelled the length of the earth to bring back the smallest grain of sand that he might want, although he would never ask. He commanded the respect of all that knew him, save the one man whose love and respect he had most desperately wanted. A man incapable of giving, Eowyn thought bitterly.

Eventually, much to her joy, he had begun to trust her. Three months after their wedding he began to tell her stories about his childhood. Many were unhappy and not easy to hear, but she was careful to never let the anger she felt show on her face as she sensed that he would not understand that it was not anger directed at him, but for him and what he had endured.

There were happy moments although these were tinged with sadness dealing as they did with his beloved elder brother, Boromir, whom she had never met, as he died in early in the Ring War. Faramir had loved him a great deal and found it hard to accept his death.

The more Faramir revealed the more he relaxed and slowly grew accustomed to the idea that Eowyn did indeed love him and did not feel disgusted by him.

There had been much pain and anguish, but through it all Faramir, to her mind, grew more admirable and worthy of much love because he had been given so little and had made so much out of it. She loved him more with each passing day and he grew more confident within the realm of her love. He was kind and gentle and a new lightness of spirit was being lit within him, almost as if a part of him that had always remained underwraps now knew that at last it could be set free. He was downright light-hearted sometimes, whereas before he’d always had something of a somber mien.

His pain was healing, although he would remain a deep-feeling, deep-thinking sort of man and she loved that, too. His tears and laughter had become a part of her that she didn’t think she could live without, now. He’d saved her in the Houses of Healing, more than he could ever know. She was floundering, a spirit drowning in her own remorse and sorrow and he drew her back to shore, offering himself as a kind of lifeline.

She look down at this kind-hearted, handsome man who had become her whole life and given her a son. She leaned down and kissed his brow. “I love you.” he smiled gently in his sleep. He knew.