I feel wonderful
Because I see the love light in your eyes
And the wonder of it all
Is that you just don’t realize
How much I love you

The Wonder Of It All

We are graceful partners, Éowyn and I. Not through prodigious skill on the dance floor, but because we move as though we are one, as if we share the other’s thoughts and were created for the sole purpose of dancing together. We weave among other dancers, but always find a way back—we spin a beautiful web around each other, and delight in it.

As we dance, cutting a path through the other couples, we are encased in our own bubble, such as the ones children blow through reed stalks by the Anduin, but ours is far more beautiful, for it has two lovers at its heart.

Blissfully unaware of anyone else, I survey my wife. Her loose hair is flying, cloaking her in a golden waterfall, and her white arms elegantly curve as she turns. She is laughing as pleasurably as a little girl, and I treasure the sound, for I know full well that such laughter was once rare indeed, and what is once lost may be lost again… And I resolve never to allow her laughter to vanish as long as it is in my power to prevent it from doing so—and indeed, even when it is beyond my power.

It is a foolish notion, perhaps, that the Bane of the Witch King would need a mortal man to ensure her happiness, but are we not all fools in love?

Desiring to hear her speak, I quietly address her as we whirl past each other. “My lady, are you tired? We have been dancing for quite a while…”

Her cheeks are rosy. She shakes her lovely head and answers, “Faramir, how could I ever tire of dancing with my husband?”

And I find myself as completely in love with her as ever.

We continue to step with the music, and each pace that pulls me away from her causes a strange lack of enthusiasm. But with each pace that draws me nearer her, a wild joy takes me, and I dance with graceful abandon.

If we are all fools in love, then I am the greatest fool of all.

I have not given her an answer, and she is gazing at me, awaiting it. But what words can describe how much I love her, how I wish I could dance endlessly so long as I danced at her side? How can I tell her how utterly overcome I am by the tenderness shining in her eyes?

Now she is watching me uncertainly, perhaps unsure as to why my reply is so long in coming. “Faramir?” she ventures tentatively. “Are you feeling quite well?”

I am suddenly acutely aware of the dancing couples surrounding us, and sadly remember that bubbles, though beautiful, eventually vanish. An impulsive desire to kiss her, here and now, ruined bubble or no, takes me, but I know full well that it would be an impertinence. I content myself with stepping near her and taking her hand, all thought of dancing forgotten.

“I am wonderful,” I hear myself say. “I have a life and happiness with the one I love, and am slowly realizing the full enormity of it, the wonder of it all. I feel wonderful!”

I care not that several guests hear me, just as I cared not that our first kiss was in the full view of the city. Her answering radiant smile is the only thing in this great room that holds any charm for me.

I may be a fool, but I am a happy fool.

A/N: Poor Éowyn. She's really not sure what's going on with her husband tonight, and had to ask him twice whether he was feeling well. But she's glad to hear him speak to her in so free a manner, all the same.

This is possibly my favorite chapter, but I'll reserve judgment until I've written the fourth one. :)