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Dear Nessa running with the wind, Eowyn was going to lose her sanity. And, according to some ladies, she never had much of it to begin with.
Like—what proper lady of the royal house of Rohan would run around barefoot, punch like a gate guard and wear armor? She knew noble ladies of Rohan liked to pretend they were these ethereal, proper women, like those from the court of Gondor.
And it wasn't like Eowyn couldn't be graceful and feminine; she just got bored with needlework and really liked the fact that she wasn't helpless in a batte. She chose to be this way, not feeling a need to change herself to fit in among other ladies. After all, she wasn't like the other ladies. None of them had gone to fight the Nazgul king.
She was the sister of the king now, a sought-after bride, but she paid no mind to those who tried to get her favor. None of them was interested in her as a person. A pretty face and status were all they wanted from her. And only one bothered to talk to her—a young, respected lord from Gondor. The shy and kind man, who had talked to a silent lady from the neighbouring kingdom staying in the healing house while the joined armies had gone to battle the hordes of Mordor. The one who had looked at her with awe when she had told him what she had done, leaving the safety of Helm's Deep. And she, in turn, had grown intrigued by him, finding his views on things fascinating.
And ever since the war's end, Eowyn always made sure to join her brother when he went to Minas Tirith. She went there, not to be flattered and occupied by Gondor's best bachelors. No, she went there to visit a friend and another friend, who she hoped could become something more. It was nice nice to have Faramir as her friend, yes, but she really wanted to try and deepen their bond.
But the well-educated idiot seemed not to take a hint. He was interested in her; she knew that. His longing sighs and looks told her as much, but he never did or said anything more than a friend would when they met. He told her about new books he'd read; he showed her exotic plants from the south of his land. He never put to words the feelings that lingered in his eyes.
And, since for once the shieldmaiden actually wanted to hear them, she was pretty annoyed.
She tried everything. She dressed nicely and acted just like the Goondor ladies. She sang and played the lute. She even wrote poetry—not that she'd ever admit to that to anyone who would have asked.
She talked to him too, but he always kept this proper formal distance, eagerly talking about the beauty of nature and other things a man could talk to a lady about.
She even grabbed his hand—gracious Manwe in the clouds, good thing she had pretended to trip, because her crush almost ignited the drapes in the room with his blush. She wasn't sure what would have happened had he known it all had been just a ploy.
Luckily, she had a friend to brainstorm with and to cheer her onward. Queen Arwen was her ally, albeit an unlikely one. At first, Eowyn had been somewhat bitter towards and wary of the elven princess from the north, but since getting to know Aragorn and realizing that he wasn't her type, and getting to know Arwen and realizing that she was more alike her than many ladies of her own species—Eowyn was more than happy to be friends with the fair Noldo.
Together, they came up with an idea for a romantic ride with the young lord outside of the city. Arwen wanted to visit a small grove at the slope of the mountain and Faramir, Eowyn and a handful of guards were to accompany her. While the Nolo meditated and the guards watched over their queen, Eowyn and Faramir were supposed to have a small walk amongst the trees.
Where Eowyn had a small trap prepared. Nothing fancy, just a pile of rocks at the foot of a ravine where she could stick her foot and be very much in need of saving by the lord. Hopefully he'd take a hint after that.
Otherwise, Eowyn swore to Varda Elbereth herself, she was going to quit waiting for him and take matters into her hands. She was sure Arwen could smooth over the Rohirrim princess throwing the well-known lord over her saddle and riding off with him.
Eowyn spent the whole ride to the groove talking to Queen Arwen. The Noldorin princess wasn't as good a rider as Eowyn, but she was much better than many other ladies Eowyn knew. For starters she used a real saddle, not the terrile contraption meant to torment both the horse and the lady riding it. Both had leggings under their dresses. so they didn't have to worry about skirt hems riding too far up.
Eowyn spent a long while admiring Arwen's steed. It was a dappled gray stallion named Rana. The men rode behind them, allowing ladies to set the pace. The landscape was pretty, even if there still were signs of battle that had been waged on the fields around the city. The shadows of the trees that lined the road they were traveling down were providing nice shadow and the breeze carried pleasant scents.
But really, Eowyn wasn't paying much attention to the scenery. It wasn't her fault, she was too busy sighing in awe at the beautiful creature the elf rode. He was taller and sleeker than most wide-spread breeds of horses from Rohan. The majority of horses from Eowyn's time were stocky, strong-legged war horses that could carry a man in armor. Arwen's horse was clearly built for running, for speed, and for endurance. His gray mane was braided, as was his long tail. Bells hung from the reins Arwen held. His saddle was light and magnificently done, the blanket under it adorned with the signia of her house. His gait was smooth and graceful. Eyes like brown gemstones looked at the world with serene intelligence and he had no trouble walking next to Eowyn's mare—a beautiful palomino with a golden coat and a pale mane that Eowyn called Eleanor.
"If all goes well today," Arwen smiled when she saw Eowyn's gaze straying back to her steed when they rode into the groove. "I shall allow you to ride on Rana."
"This offer is greatly appreciated," Eowyn grinned, blushing a bit.
The small wood was a lovely place, with lush greenery and smells of vegetation lingering in the soothing shadow the trees provided. The group dismounted on the edge of a meadow that hid in between the trees. Horses were set to graze, the guards taking their spots around the area, while the queen of Gondor sat in the middle of the glen, among wild flowers, mindless of her white gown. She glanced at Eowyn, winked, and then closed her eyes with a long sigh.
Elves were weird; that was a well-known fact. They were immortal and powerful beings that often did bizarre things. They slept with open eyes and walked on snow barely leaving footprints. They sang of ages before the Sun and the Moon wandered the sky. They treated other races like younger siblings, which often more than annoyed these interacting with them.
Yet, Eowyn had always longed for an elder sister to share secrets with, to talk and seek advice from. And she found that and more in that elven princess, the one who remained behind while her race left for the Blessed Lands, never to be seen again.
Eowyn took a deep breath of her own, it was time to follow through with her plan. She would've been lying if she said that she wasn't anxious and more than a bit excited. She cast a glance over to Faramir, who was standing nearby and looking dashing in his dark blue and green outfit. His hair fell in waves around his handsome face, eyes...
...Dear Vana, he was looking at her!
Eowyn felt her cheeks grow hot and her heartbeat speed up as she cast her gaze away bashfully. She could face a knight in a sword fight or enter a race, but withstanding Faramir's gaze without getting butterflies swarming in her belly and her knees going weak was beyond her.
It wasn't her fault that the young lord has the most piercing, most hypnotizing gaze ever!
Eowyn swallowed, clenching her suddenly sweaty hands in the sleeves of her dress. She was Eowyn; she was going to see this through and...
"Princess Eowyn?" said the smooth voice that haunted her dreams. Eowyn almost jumped when she realized that Faramir had approached her, standing a proper distance away from her, peering into her face. "Would you accept an invitation for a walk? Queen Arwen will take at least an hour."
She gasped at his offer, looking at his hand lifted in between them. It was a golden opportunity; now she didn't have to ask him to go for a walk with her. She smiled, tilting her head shyly and glancing at him through her eyelashes as she lifted her own hand to touch his own—a mere touch only, she suspected at first.
A shiver ran down her spine when his calloused fingers wrapped around her own not-too-delicate ones. She had expected him to let go of her hand, but instead he held onto it: gently, but firmly. She looked up to his face and barely kept in the sight that wanted to escape her.
There was no calculation in his gaze: no cold, no surface-deep emotions she had seen in so many other eyes. No, he looked at her with honest, genuine affection and hope. A small, adorable smile curled up the corners of his lips.
In a daze, Eowyn allowed him to bring her towards a small path that led out of the meadow and meandered between the trees. She walked beside the man she wanted to walk beside. Faramir still held her hand, but now his grip grew lax as he focused on showing her herbs and telling her about their healing properties. Usually Eowyn would have been listening intently; some of these herbs, after all, weren't well-spread across the plains of Rohan.
But not today. After a while, she got herself out of her daze and looked around more closely. They weren't going the right way. She had to do something; otherwise, her plan would fail. Gently she removed her hand from Faramir's grasp, brushing her hair over her shoulder as she did. Her gaze strayed from the plant he was showing her and went to the right, where her ravine was located.
"Princess?" Faramir asked, Eowyn taking a step towards her ravine.
'There was a noise," she improvised. "I better check it out."
"A noise?" He looked to where she walked. "Wait, princess, let me accompany you. That may be a wild animal."
Eowyn cast a glance over her shoulder to see him hurrying after her, so she did the only one sane thing in this situation. She ran. She ducked under the branches and leaped over twisting roots. She could hear her companion trying to keep up with her, and she knew that she didn't have much time before he caught up.
She got to the ravine and looked around, finding her trap. But before she could move closer to it, a disaster struck her.
Well, if one decided to call the second son of the late Steward of Gondor a disaster.
It was long afterwards that she learned that Faramir's mantle got caught on a branch when he ran after her. It didn't slow him much and tore a long rip in his mantle when he pulled at it. But it was enough, putting him off balance and taking his focus from the blonde woman in front of him for a few crucial moments when she'd stopped her dash.
With a very un-lady-like curse in her native tongue, Eowyn fell to the ground, having enough presence of mind to outstretch her hands to prevent herself from hitting the thick carpet of dead leaves and grass with her face. A shout of an alarmed male was all the forewarning she got before a heavy weight collapsed over her lower back and legs.
The green mantle the young lord wore fell over the pair on the ground with majestic grace and flutter of fabric settling over their frozen, shocked bodies.
Birds, startled for a moment by the sudden appearance of humans and their shouting, resumed happy chirping overhead. A breeze swayed the branches and grasses.
Eowyn was not sure what to do now. A part of her wanted to just erupt in totally, not hysterical laughter at her foiled plan and the whole situation. A part of her was just happy that they were together—even if sprawled on the forest floor. And there was a part of her that was embarrassed at being in such a position with a very handsome young man.
She was about to say something to the man whose face pressed against her shoulder blade, but at that very moment the aforementioned breeze brought to her the smell of food.
She lifted her head and looked around to see that from the branches of one of the ash trees near the ravine hung a basket wrapped in cloth.
"A basket?" She frowned at that sight. From what she'd gathered, this small forest wasn't a picnic destination for people of this land. As soon as she spoke, Faramir crawled off of her, allowing her to sit up herself. She shook her wild mane of hair from her face and looked at the lord, who was blushing fiercely and looking to the side.
"Are you unharmed? I apologize thousandfold," he said, looking at her. He ran a hand through his hair. Eowyn shook her head to assure him she was fine and took no offence."I guess you found my secret surprise for you, princess."
"Eh?" asked the princess of Rohan, blinking at the man.
"I planned to finish our walk here, so we could enjoy some sweets before we returned to Queen Arwen. Just... To talk, like we used to in the House of Healing."
Eowyn blinked at that again, then she realized the meaning behind his words. At court there was always someone watching them interact: a bunch of nobles or a gossipy maid, or ladies in waiting.... Back then there had been only them two, walking around in the gardens or sitting on the walls, and looking to where their friends and family had gone. No one had tried to eavesdrop on them. Now each sentence they exchanged had to be carefully prepared, so no one overhearing them talk misunderstood them.
"Ah, so this is why you chased me so closely, to try and stop me from discovering your plan," she giggled at him and waved her hand towards the ravine. "I might have devised a plan of my own to spend some time with you as well, my lord, so I will be more than happy to stay here for a while, especially if you have some apple pie in that basket hanging over there."
"Rohirrim and their horses do seem to like their apples," Faramir teased, and Eowyn, a brave and noble daughter of Rohan, had no other choice than to jump to defend her people's diet choices.
And, as educated as the Gondorin lord was, he had never expected a frontal charge from a Rohirrim lady.
So, there was no struggle from him when Eowyn launched herself forward and tackled him to the ground, laughing and preaching that the Gondor people with their cheesecake knew nothing about real taste in sweet delicacies.
"Your lousy pie has nothing on real good cakes, you just wait, I will make you some and you will see!"
Back at the meadow, surrounded by lush nature, Queen Arwen's lips twitched as she tried not to smile at the antics of her friends.
'Truly,' she thought, 'have they not heard of apple cheesecake? Well, if not, I'm certain sooner or later they will reinvent it.'