Faramir Fiction Archive

The Song of the Steward and the King (NC-17)

Written by Raihon

19 March 2006 | 32932 words

Chapter 10 – A Call to Duty

Early the next morning, Éowyn’s preparations for departure woke Faramir before he was fully rested. She had donned her riding gear and looked boyishly handsome in the dim blue light. “Are you departing anon?” he asked sleepily. When he tried to rise, he realized his body ached.

“I want to ride with the dawn today. I will ask a porter to fetch my trunk and yours tomorrow,” she said, hoisting a large leather pouch over her shoulder, “and I will take some food from the kitchen so that I may break the fast by the river.”

Faramir stumbled into his dressing gown and went to gently embrace his wife. “May the dawn bring you a bright new day, my love,” he said, tenderly kissing her hair. When he pulled back to see his wife’s face, her eyes were cast down.

“Faramir, I am ashamed. I…” she seemed to struggle for words and then say no more.

“Then we must share the shame,” Faramir said, taking her hands in his own. “Or choose to accept that we are but human, with passions born of both darkness and light.”

“But Faramir,” Éowyn said, gazing up at him in distress, “is not our love a thing of the light? To sully it with a lust for death as I did last night…”

“For death?” Faramir whispered passionately. “Last night you moved me with your lust for life, my love!”

“And dragged you down into my darkness!” Éowyn protested.

“Why not seek strength in the love of your husband when the darkness touches you? Why not draw from him draughts of the spirit of life to sustain you when you can no longer feel its force inside you? I gladly would give you all that was in me to see you through a hundred dark nights of the soul.” Faramir then embraced her again. “Be not ashamed. Be human. And be my wife, for the day will come when I will call on you to similarly see me through.”

Éowyn sighed and pulled away. She gazed at him solemnly, but her eyes were bright and keen. “I will not drain a hundred nights of light from you, my love. I will build my strength through work and, if it be willed, by bearing and raising children who will make Gondor proud. Faramir, I know my own worth, but I would have you know that I strive one day to equal your kindness and wisdom.”

Faramir ached with tenderness for his wife. When she spoke from her heart, she burned him like the summer sun, and yet like a plunge into cool water, always took his breath away with the strength of the will behind her words. “You are a balm to me and there is no one on this earth who could give me more honor with such words,” he said at last.

Éowyn raised her eyebrows. “Is there not one other?”

Faramir smiled and shook his head. “No, Éowyn, for me, your regard reigns over the love of all others.”

Éowyn’s nodded her approval and she began to smile. She kissed him softly. “I will see you tomorrow.” Then she tied back her hair, donned her cloak and went to the chamber door. “Give my regards to the King,” she said over her shoulder as she left the room, and winked at Faramir.

Faramir lay briefly back down on the bed and shook his head, smiling. What man could equal such a wife? he wondered. Well, certainly not one who let the day take him unawares, he thought, and rose to dress.

In a day, the court was to disperse for the season, so there was much business to be resolved. Faramir’s morning was filled with meetings to work out the new plan to reallocate men from military service to agricultural brigades. In the afternoon, he reported to the Council his plans for assigning the brigades along the eastern shores of the Anduin.

“But what of Anorien and Lebennin?” asked the Captain from Pelargir.

Prince Imrahil jumped in, “it is not customary for the Steward to order the business of the feifdoms.”

“But our losses in the near feifdoms are so great that we must make sure men are assigned where they are most needed,” said Forbald, the Lord of Lossarnach. “For now, I would prefer the Steward’s advice and oversight.”

Imrahil exchanged looks with Hirdon, the Lord of Pinnath Galen. “I would seek not to burden my nephew further. Though Dol Amroth repairs its fleet and directs the re-establishment of trade in Gondor’s main port cities, our energies are not so scattered that we cannot also oversee our own food supply.”

Lord Golasgil of Anfalas and Lord Dervorin of the Ringlo Vale nodded in assent.

Faramir gave a tight smile to his Uncle, knowing that his generosity was motivated mainly by concern over his own sovereignty under this new King. During the war, and for years before, Dol Amroth and the lands it oversaw had thrived while Minas Tirith and the people of its lands dwindled. The lords of the inner feifdoms had little to loose from placing themselves under his command and much to gain while they were still in such dire straits.

“I seek not to burden you further, Lord Steward,” said a Lord of Lebennin, with a sharp look to Imrahil, “but you have the knowledge to expand your plan for Ithilien to the rest of the near feifdoms, and you would have the full cooperation of my officers in implementing the plan.”

Faramir nodded his head thoughtfully, but his chest grew tight with worry.

Aragorn looked from Imrahil to Faramir. “From Minas Tirith we must maintain the defenses, work with the Dwarves in rebuilding the defenses of the cities and towns, establish our relations with the freed lands, and govern the kingdom. Still, someone from my staff could coordinate the brigades for Lossarnach, at least.”

Aragorn looked to Forbald, who looked to Faramir.

“My Lord,” Faramir said resignedly, “no one would suggest that the King should also resolve the problem of agriculture, but already my energies are torn between three poles: I am charged with assisting the Elves in restoring the greenspaces of Ithilien, reestablishing farms on the eastern shores, and cleansing the land of the lingering stench of Mordor. As much as I wish to think I could discharge all these duties to the fullest, I am forced to admit that one or more of these efforts will fail if it is on me to assure the bounty of the autumn harvest in the lands to the Anduin’s west and north, as well.”

Aragorn nodded and gave Faramir a sympathetic look. “You are right. This is too much for even a most capable leader to manage alone. But you have a helpmate in at least one these matters: what say you to the idea that the Lady of Ithilien should officially be charged with managing the restoration of gardens and forests? She has already devoted her energies to these efforts and is fully capable of taking on a role of greater responsibility than she has thus far been given. If you would grant it to her, I would happily approve her as the Warden of the Land in Ithilien.”

Faramir was stunned by the wisdom of the King’s proposal. His mind raced forward to how Éowyn would react – she would meet the challenge with the fervor of a warrior to battle!

Aragorn raised his eyebrows inquiringly. “Perhaps you think it too soon to take your new bride’s attentions from home and hearth?”

Faramir burst out laughing. “Nay, Lord! I live to see her smile and nothing would give her greater pleasure and satisfaction than what you propose. Once again your insight into the hearts of your subjects works to benefit the Kingdom. She will accept this duty with gratitude, I am certain.”

Aragorn smiled and his eyes shone with pleasure. “I am glad you approve. We must not overlook our women when we search for great talents – we need every keen mind and strong hand in the Kingdom to be hard at work,” he said, pointedly looking at certain members of the Council. To Faramir he said, “tomorrow I will ride with you to Emyn Arnen to make my request of Éowyn in person.”

Faramir showed his surprise, but concealed his pleasure that the King would accompany him home. And then, like the tumbler of a lock clicking into place, an idea opened to him and he began to conceive another way the King might help his wife escape the ghosts of her past. But first, he still needed to know…

“…issue of your duties stands yet unresolved, Prince Faramir,” the King was saying. Faramir quickly directed his attention back to Aragorn. “The agricultural issue is of utmost importance and it will yet take many years to restore light to the Morgul Vale.”

Faramir nodded. “My efforts there have met with limited success. Some lingering evil works its fell magic there still. Only those of my men who withstood the black breath of the Nazgûl have been able to go with me there. Even so, none of us can stay there long or we would be driven mad. We have been limited to scouting Minas Morgul. Though the city appears deserted, it should remain under watch.”

“Very well. I see no reason for you to pursue the problem of Morgul while other tasks are more pressing. Let us set up a permanent watch at the crossroads. Since you have turned over the command of the Rangers in the north to Mablung, you may now consider yourself relieved of the military duties I have charged you with.” The King flashed a smile at Faramir. “Will you agree to stay at Rín Tôr Nín for the time being, or will you miss ranging the hills, eating fresh killed game, sleeping under the stars, and risking your life for glory?”

“I will miss these things, but not overly much,” Faramir said, smiling.

“Good,” The King said loudly, then muttering under his breath, “I, for one, will be glad to have you closer to home.” The King then said to the others, “it is settled then. Prince Faramir will lead the efforts to restock our pantries and see us through another winter.”

In contrast to his grief of the night before, Faramir now felt filled with purpose and with overflowing love, not just for his King, but for his life and his land. With great enthusiasm, he recruited some of his old comrades-in-arms to survey the condition of farmlands West of the Anduin north to the vales of the White Mountains. He went to the archive and assigned two clerks the work of gathering the information on acrage estimates and troop sizes in the inner feifs. He wrote up instructions to Beregond regarding the more permanent establishment of his personal guard at Rín Tôr Nín, and talked with Mablung about how to arrange a permanent watchpost at the crossroads.

He then spread his good cheer at dinner, toasting the Lords and charming their Ladies. When he rose from the table, he stood behind the King’s chair and clasped a shoulder in each hand. “I know not for certain that it can be done, but I now think that it can,” he assured the King.

Aragorn smiled up at him warmly. “I delight in your mood, friend.”

Arwen placed a hand on top of Faramir’s. “There is even greater glory before you than behind you, I think,” she said in her ethereal voice, “and even greater joy, because the battles before you involve not weapons, but hard work and wise words.”

Faramir smiled and bowed his head. “Your words fortify my faith, my Lady.”

Aragorn reached up and laid a hand on top of Arwen’s. Faramir felt a tingling heat coming from Arwen’s palm into the back of his own hand and he was reminded again of Aragorn’s touch at the time of his healing.

“Shall I find you in your chamber later?” Aragorn asked, and when Faramir nodded, he said, “I will come when I am able.”

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