Chapter 5 - Surviving

Eowyn sighed softly as she watched her younger son sleeping contentedly in the bed before her. He looked so safe and so innocent, as if nothing could affect him. But she remembered the look of pain that had dulled his eyes when his father had shouted at him earlier.

It was out of character for Faramir to react in such a way, particularly bearing in mind his own history when all Cirion had wanted was a little attention. Such incidents had become increasingly common over this winter.

Eowyn reached out and gently stroked Cirion’s chin. “Your father loves you dearly,little one, only he forgets himself a little. Forgive him, Ciri, for he under a lot of pressure.”

She lingered for a few more minutes listening to the child’s breathing, making sure it was deep and rhythmic and there was no sign of the sobbing that had been the child’s heart-breaking reaction to his father’s rebuff.

This was not the first night she had chosen to stay in her children’s bedroom rather than spend time alone with her husband. He had changed not only in his sudden lack of patience with his children, but he was preoccupied and bad tempered with everyone and worse still the nightmares he had suffered just after the end of the war of the ring had returned to haunt him.

She remembered back to the day that Beregond had brought Faramir home, cold and trembling but mercifully alive. Her heart had soared then as she had taken him in her arms and cried tears of thankfulness.

It had been hard over the following weeks, she had stayed constantly by his bedside and nursed him back to health, but she had been floating on a cloud of pure relief. She had feared the worse that she had lost him. She had almost given up hope, but he had returned to her and nothing would dent her happiness.

Such was her positive attitude that she overlooked the changes that Faramir began to exhibit in his behaviour for a long time, excusing them or finding other explanations for his lapses. It was only recently that she had allowed herself to see the truth and with the realisation came new and terrifying worries.

He had begun to suffer frighteningly intense headaches. They came crashing over him for no apparent reason, bringing blinding flashing lights in his vision, fever and vomiting spells with them. The only solace he could find was to lie in a darkened room and sleep them off. Such attacks were becoming more regular.

She had confronted him with her fears about his strange behaviour the night before. His reaction had been that which she would have expected from the ‘old’ Faramir. He had agreed with her completely, apologised profusely, blamed his preoccupation on the work the King had given him and promised that he would change. She had almost believed him especially when he had taken her up in his arms and kissed her passionately. The warm light of love appeared to have returned to his eye, but then the next day he had reverted, and she felt the cold fingers of fear clasping at her heart once more.

Now as she stood and pondered, she knew this had all originated from his last journey back from Minas Tirith. There were still too many questions left unanswered. He still maintained that he had left the white city only three days before Beregond found him, which she knew was impossible since his horse had arrived home a full two weeks before him. He remembered nothing of the storm, could come up with little explanation of how he came to be wandering in the woods with no boots and wearing only his shirt and leggings, or for that matter, how he had an obviously treated and healing arrow wound in his shoulder. He simply said he must have been attacked and robbed on the road, bumped his head, blacked out and been left for dead.

At his explanation Eowyn had glanced at Beregond and saw the scepticism in the old soldier’s eyes. Gently they had tried to push Faramir to reveal more on numerous occasions since,but he had become reticent and angry accusing them of not believing him. He had become so agitated that they had agreed not to raise the subject any more but there were too many questions that remained unanswered. Eowyn felt uncomfortable in questioning him further. She perceived but could not understand why Faramir’s eyes appeared to be tinged with guilt whenever the subject was raised.

Now she lingered because she did not want to face him again so soon after the night before. She did not know what to say to him anymore, did not trust herself not to incite some anger in him. She wanted so much to help him, but it felt like there was some invisible barrier that had come between then. He seemed unable to take pleasure in anything. Even her embrace and love left him untouched and distant.

She recalled the news that she had kept from him until he recovered and broken to him days before. She thought that at least information that she was with child once more would move him. She remembered his reaction vividly, so different from the tears and hope that had accompanied the news of Elboron’s coming and the quiet determination that he could love a second child just as much as his firstborn which he had articulated so eloquently to her when she had told him of her second pregnancy. Both times he could not hide the passion and wonder that the promise of new life had brought him. This time she had looked for it, hoping that it would pull him from this strange depressed state he had fallen into. He had nodded slowly, and his mouth had smiled, but his eyes remained distant and dull.

“I hope it is a girl for you,” he had said.

She had taken his hands in hers and noticed that they trembled slightly.

“I don’t care,” she had responded. “As long as it brings you happiness.”

He had gulped then. “I am sorry, Eowyn,” he had said pulling his hand from her and running it nervously through his hair. “I am happy. It’s just.....”

He had stopped, the intensity of his stare suddenly withering away into blandness. Too often recently his attempts to analyse his feelings ended in such a feeble response.

She longed for him to open up to her, but she saw every time she tried to push him the gulf between them seemed to increase. He closed himself off to her,and her heart wept that their relationship could have degenerated to this.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated moving away from her back to his desk. “I am preoccupied with the wording on this treaty the King has given me to write.”

“Let me help,” she had tried. “I still can’t believe that the King is even contemplating a treaty with the Harad.”

“Anything that stops the killing has to be good,” Faramir said.

The light had reflected brightly in his eyes, for a moment she had seen the sympathetic, caring man she had married and still loved so very deeply, but then his face had crumpled into a frown as he continued almost pompously.

“The King has given this duty to me. It’s my responsibility and I have to finish it. Besides isn’t that the baby crying?”

And so saying he had dismissed her. Eowyn had wanted to stay and talk but she feared to do so. He had not mentioned her pregnancy again. He, who had been such a committed father and attentive lover, was now something so terrifyingly different.

Eowyn felt so utterly alone. She had confided in Maura in a moment of weak desperation when she thought she had lost Faramir, but the memory of that embarrassed her greatly. She could not speak of these new, darker fears not to Maura wife of her husband’s captain. She found herself praying for the winter to end. She wanted to return to Minas Tirith. There she had friends who would understand and help her through this crisis. They would see the truth of it and make her understand that there really was no problem with Faramir. It was all in her own imagination.

Sighing softly again she left the children’s room and went to their sleeping chamber. She was surprised to find Faramir was already there, lying quietly on the bed, waiting for her. She was surprised because he had developed the habit of working late in the study and not coming to bed until she was asleep.

“Hello,” he said softly.

“Hello,” she responded. “Not working late?”

He looked shamefaced. “I am sorry, Eowyn,” he began. “I know I haven’t been myself lately. Things seem to be weighing heavily on me as they never did in the past. I shout, I get angry.” He flexed his hands frustratedly as he spoke. “But most of all I neglect those who are most important to me.”

She moved toward him and sat down.

“I worry for you,” she said. “What can I do to make it right?”

“I am so lucky. I have so much to be grateful for. You can do no more than you do, my lady.” Gently, almost shyly, he stroked her cheek. “You are so much more than I ever dreamt of. So much more than I deserve....”

“Ssssh, my husband,” she whispered as she nestled her head into his body.

But he would not be silenced. The words rushed out of him. “I have so much. You give me everything I desire, and you are the woman of my dreams. Why is it so hard for me to live this? To love you?”

She hugged him to her then as the tears began to roll silently down his cheeks.

“Faramir my love, I do not know why you feel so. I do not know what I can do to ease your pain, but I do know that this is just a passing moment and one not altogether unexpected bearing in mind all that you have suffered. This uncertainty and lack of confidence will pass. What will not pass is the love that we bear each other. That is stronger than any momentary pain, and it will survive this, as you will live through this. You,who had the courage to ride before the nazgul, do not give up hope, not now.”

He clutched her to him, and she returned the embrace.

“I love you so very much, Eowyn,” he whispered.

“I know,” she replied. “Promise me one thing.”

He lifted his head. “What?” he asked, his eyebrows arching quizzically.

“Go to the Healers in Minas Tirith in the spring. Tell them everything because your headaches are something new and worry me greatly.”

He nodded with resignation, and the look of sheer anxiety that enveloped his face almost made her heart break.

They had held each other close for a long time. Finally Faramir fell asleep, and Eowyn continued to hold him as he snored softly until she too drifted off to sleep.

His scream awoke her some hours later. She sat up disorientated and scared. He was bolt upright beside her, the sweat dripping off him and his eyes staring wildly.

“Faramir,” she said, reaching out to hold him.

He turned to her. “Eowyn,” he hissed desperately. “What is wrong with me?”

“It was the nightmare again?”

He nodded. “I feel like the darkness is all around me. I am more frightened than I ever have been because now I have so much more to lose.”

“We will seek out help for you.” She clutched hold of his shoulders. “We don’t need to face this alone, there are people who can help us, Faramir. We just need to hold on till the spring. Then we can go to Minas Tirith and find help. Promise me you can find the strength to get us there.”

He smiled an infinitely poignant expression. “You have enough strength for all of us, Eowyn, you always have had. I will do what I can, I promise.”

“How long until the snows melt?” she asked.

“Not long,” he said in a dreamy voice. He turned back to her his eyes suddenly wide with intensity. “I am sorry this winter has not been how I had hoped.”

“Stop it now,” she said. “I don’t want to hear any more apologising. Let’s just look forward to the springtime.”

He nodded. “In the springtime all will be well,” he agreed and reaching forward he pulled her down to a long, passionate embrace.