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It was the morning of their wedding. Éowyn's stomach contained butterflies...or were they fell beasts? She looked forward to the unknown, to their life together and the butterflies...or fell beasts stopped their flutterings. She reached down and felt the bathwater. It was warm and the scented mists of lavender and rose wafted up. She smiled as the comingled fragrance calmed her further. She slipped off her robe and stepped into the bath. She reached into the dish and scooped soft soap into her hands. Head on pillowed toweling she relaxed for treasured moments before the bustle of the day began.
Faramir looked in the mirror. The image looking back at him was smiling. It was his wedding day. He was about to marry the most beautiful woman he had ever known. Éowyn. Fire had melt the ice; Valiant and warm-hearted she waited for him now this day, because he had waited for her heart to catch up to his then. His heart beating with unexpected joy. Six months earlier he had the closest of shaves, but thanks to Pippin, that loquacious, mischievous, valiant little hobbit he was here in front of this mirror to realise... that he needed a shave!
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