Belen Menel
Chapter 3: The White House

Faramir sat in his study, reading the missive from Aragorn himself:

Faramir,

Headed our way is an envoy sent by Ghân-buri-Ghân himself. Ghân’s son, Goban leads this envoy. What we know is that the men of Drúadan Forest wish to open limited relations with Gondor, on the bequest of their brethren from the mountains near Andrast, of the Drúwaith Iaur region. No doubt this comes as a surprise to you as it has to me. It appears, from what my emissaries discerned, there are families from this fabled place who wish to come to Ithilien to fulfill an obligation of old. No more is known. This will no doubt be decided by you as it concerns your lands. Let us speak of this soon.

Aragorn

Faramir knew as much from Éowyn, but Aragorn’s message added an interesting tidbit—what could this obligation be? The scholar in Faramir was stirred, and he remembered some ancient manuscripts he read in the libraries of Minas Tirith that wrote that the Drúedain were the first Men to cross the Anduin, and came through Ithilien, before settling on the vales of the White Mountain (1). That is what the historians of Gondor wrote. It was also told the Drúedain had come with the Second House of Men—the House of Haleth. Faramir wondered if this history was related to the request Aragorn spoke of. Whatever came of this, at least, Faramir hoped, some history regarding their origins could be settled.

“That would be a long time to wait to fulfill an obligation,” Faramir spoke aloud, as he pushed the chair he was sitting on back. As he stood, he glanced at the paper in his hand, and decided to leave the message on his desk. He could hear Legolas and Éowyn in the gardens outside chattering about which plants would best help the injured Lord of Emyn Arnen. Éowyn asked many questions of Legolas, “Which plant would best reduce the swelling? Which plants would reduce the sting of the welts? Was there a plant that could do both? What about sage, or better yet alliums?”

Faramir smiled, listening to Éowyn’s unquenchable thirst for knowledge that would aid in her healing skills. Legolas had previously applied mud to the stings, and covered them with Faramir’s kerchief, which had been ripped into long pieces to accommodate the multiple stings. Fortunately, Faramir was not prone to become sick from stings, but they ached nevertheless. From his private study, he went into his and Éowyn’s private sitting room. The White House kept with Gondorian convention for noble manors, but it was also more open, eschewing the closed manors of the past required by dangerous times. It took architectural advantage of its hill location, with vistas to all directions. Part of the home had three levels, while the other portion of the home, sitting on the highest point of the hill had two levels. Meandering terraced gardens surrounded the White House, taking advantage of the gently sloping hill. A series of stairways and paths connected the gardens, providing choices for either leisurely strolls on the paths that gently rounded up the hill, or cobble stoned stairways that provided more direct routes.

On the first level of the home were the kitchens and storage rooms that took advantage of the hill side for cold storage such as the bottelry for wines, the pantry for perishable foods, and the buttery for beverages, primarily used for ale. On the first level was the west main entrance, that opened up into an impressive foyer in which the Garden of Gondor seemed to spill with an array of foliage and flowers, in delicate shades of ivory and yellows—brought to life by the touch and gentle whisper of the Eldar. Off to the sides of the foyer were hallways through which attendants came to and fro taking guests outerwear and other items that needed to be stored in coatrooms. Guests would often remain longer than anticipated in the foyer, taking in the strange smells of flowers that came from the lands south of Gondor, from Far Harad itself. Off to the other end was an inconspicuous hall that led to Faramir and Éowyn’s modest receiving room. It was not used much, but at times, when in need of formality the Lords of the White House would receive their visitors. The receiving room was fondly referred to by Éowyn as the Oubliette, a secret cell in which prisoner’s were left to die, because of Faramir’s practice of letting really annoying and pestering visitors practice patience in wait for the Prince of Ithilien.

While not imposing, a grand series of stairs led up towards the mezzanine level, and into the Hall of Ithil, so named for the delicate tiles made of both mithril, sparingly used, and luminous rocks that adorned the ceiling depicting the summer night sky of Ithilien. Even in daylight, the ceiling had a luminescence to it. Besides the sparkling stars, the ceiling was luminescent due to the use of radiant minerals in the plaster. The effect of this process under the light of torchlight and hearth fire mimicked the glow of the moon, ithil, honoring the region on which it sat—Ithilien, land of moon where the moon famously lit the night skies with its silver glow.

The Ithil Hall served multiple purposes including meetings, dances, and dinners, anything that needed accommodation in a large room. It was the largest room in the White House. Its ceilings extended up towards the second level. The east end, or back end of the Hall, opened up into a garden patio, that had less of the manicured look than the typical gardens of Men. This garden patio seemed to spring naturally from the earth itself. Unlike the stone benches typical of Gondorian décor, the garden was appointed with furnishings made of dried woven vines, shaped into an assortment of seats, covered with hearty moss, another gift of the Elven settlement in Ithilien. The remainder of the first level consisted of guest chambers.

On the second level of the White House, were the guest chambers of the likes of Kings and Queens, and special friends, along with the vast library Faramir insist he have. There was a smaller, more intimate dining room, and small serving kitchen, connected by stairs to the large working kitchen of the first level. Instead of the stone floor of the first level, the second level was laid of exotic dark wood acquired through the new trading routes opened into the Far South, of which Faramir was key in negotiating for. The remainder of the second level was given to the large Ithil Hall, but due to smart planning, the library abutted the Hall. The actual rooms that were closest to the hall were small rooms devoted to manuscripts that needed to be kept under a special atmosphere to protect old scrolls and valuable and important manuscripts that needed to be kept under lock and key. The library itself was large, fashioned after Elrond’s library, a gesture to Faramir’s similar passion for safeguarding and cataloguing the history of Middle Earth. A secret door led up to Faramir’s private study on the third level. The third level consisted of the solar suite, Faramir and Éowyn’s private chambers. Discrete doors for the staff were unobtrusive and minimal.

The solar suite was light and airy, oriented in such a way to take advantage of the seasons, keeping the home warm in the cold seasons and cool in the warm seasons. It was the warm season and the fragrant breezes so common in Ithilien were blowing through, unobstructed. From this highest level, one could see clearly in all directions. To the north, west, and south one could see the river Anduin, and to the North the gleaming White City at the foot of Mount Mindolluin and the green of North Ithilien, empty of settlements. The tower of Minas Ithil had been destroyed, and the land was left alone, to be cleansed of all dark things by Faramir and his White Company.

Walking into the private sitting room, Faramir smelled his prepared bath. Lazily, he disrobed, haphazardly throwing his close as he made his way into the bathing chamber. The steam rose from the water in the bathing pool, welcoming Faramir to soothe and cleanse his body, using Elven technology that piped in hot water. He obliged the water, letting himself sink into the water until he was fully submerged. It further quelled the itching welts. Under water, Faramir smiled, Éowyn had anticipated this bath, adding the proper dried herbs and salts to his bath water. His black hair floated in the water. He must be a sight to behold, if one was to look down on him. He mused that his hair must appear like black snakes floating in the water, like the Corsair tails of the snake haired witch with unseen eyes that turned anyone beholding her into stone. Faramir indulged himself, seeing how long he could hold his breath under water, and blowing air bubbles, watching them rise. Closing his eyes, he came up for air and let his body float freely, feeling the troubles of the day melt into the hot water. He submerged himself once more, letting his body sink towards the shallow bottom.

For a second, Faramir thought he heard what sounded like muffled and echoing giggles. He came up for air, and heard the loud laugher of his wife. He opened one eye and grinned at Éowyn. “Care to join me, my love?” Without another word, he closed his eyes and submerged himself. Seconds later, he felt Éowyn’s legs plunge into the water. This time he rose out of the water, and stayed this way for some time.

***
The water in the bathing pool had cooled, and Éowyn squeezed closer to Faramir for warmth. She laid her hand on her husband’s chest, watching it rise and fall with his breath, feeling the deep vibrations of his voice as he spoke. Her pale skin contrasted with his darker skin. She wondered what their children would look like, a combination of the two? She hoped that if they had a girl, she would look life Faramir’s mother, Finduilas, a dark and exotic beauty to Éowyn’s eyes. She hoped that a little girl with the likeness of Faramir’s mother could restore the sadness tied to Finduilas’ memory.

Éowyn sighed, Such childish thoughts, she chided herself. Her own life showed her one cannot look to others or other things to repair the hurts of the heart.

“What is it, my love,” Faramir whispered into Éowyn’s ear.

“‘Tis nothing, my dearest, but do tell me more about the iron gate you and Legolas found.”

“Legolas was the one who found it, and it was most peculiar…”

Their conversation traveled back and forth between the iron gate and the Drúedain envoy, but was soon cut short by the coldness of the water. Not wanting to chill themselves further, they stepped out of the pool to dry. Faramir smiled inwardly as he grabbed for his newest import, a plush dwahila whose extraordinary absorbent abilities made it a wonderful device for wicking water off the body (2). The trading routes into and from the lands east and south were proving to be the main impetus for opening and maintaining diplomatic relations between former enemies. But there was still much caution for treachery and distrust remained, and so trading while lucrative was also perilous.

Éowyn watched with much amusement as Faramir used the dwahila he had given to her the day before. Somehow, Faramir’s new diplomatic role in securing trading routes was turning him into a merchant himself. It appeared to Éowyn that Faramir was selling his wares, mumbling with intense satisfaction to himself about how quickly this new dwahila dried him, the soft feel of it against his skin, much better than the old cloths he used to use.

“My Lord, you need not convince me of the use of this cloth-they are a most thoughtful gift, but it seems you are wasting your talents in diplomacy. You are a most appealing and convincing merchant.”

Faramir stopped mid dry, turning to look at his wife. His voice suddenly serious, “Do you think dwahilas should be included in the welcome gifts we give to the Drúedain?”

“Scoundrel!” Éowyn giggled as she threw her dwahila at her ducking husband.

(1) From Unfinished Tales; 399-400.
(2) Old High German for towel