Chapter 26: Freedom

[ Setting the scene: The remaining members of the Fellowship, Elrond, his daughter Queen Arwen Evenstar, his sons Elladan and Elrohir, Galadriel, Faramir, and many others are gathered in Edoras for the funeral of King Théoden. All save Éowyn are preparing to depart. Peredhil means Half-elven in Sindarin. The Vanyar are the highest and least corruptible of the High Elves. Nahar was the steed of Béma (the Rohirric name for the Vala Oromë) and the ancestor of the Mearas, kings of horses. Miruvor is a cordial-style liqueur made in Rivendell. Doriathrin was a Sindarin dialect spoken in the First Age realm of Doriath.]

11 August 3019 (Third Age), Rohan

“The end has arrived at last. I knew it would be difficult beyond imagining, and yet it is worse.”

“For me as well, brother. But we still have a few hours before we face the final sorrow. I am unaccountably restless, wishing for aught to distract myself, for I find meditative silence to be of little help quelling my internal turmoil. Perhaps that’s why I’m wasting time by speaking my thoughts out loud.” He frowned. “Peredhil, indeed.”

“Be not ashamed; mayhap even the Vanyar could not bear this burden with tranquility. Yet despite our struggle I deem silence the wiser path, for I would not spend these hours masticating on morsels of shared misery, lest that misery become a mighty and unconquerable feast when it is finally served.”

“Nor I. Still, it will be with us nonetheless, and about that there is naught to be done.” With a sudden, sharp glance to the left, he warned, “someone approaches on horseback.”

“Is this not exceedingly strange? For she is unaccountably early, and that’s not a quality I associate with...”

“I don’t think it’s her.”

“Then who? Did we not retire to this remote glade for its privacy?”

“We did. Yet, perhaps unwisely, I feel no urge to take up my weapon.”

“Nor I. If there is danger, I neither feel nor fear it. But if it isn’t her, who do you think has found us?”

“We will know soon enough.”

“Queen Evenstar! May I beg a moment of your time?”

Grudgingly, her mind roiled by the unexpected events in her immediate wake, her heart consumed by gloom at those still before her, she stopped and turned. “Of course, Steward. What can I do for you?”

Though he feigned equanimity, Faramir’s eyes quickly darted left and right, belying his distress. “Perhaps, my Queen, it might be better if...”

“ ... this discussion were conducted in private? Very well. I believe your quarters are closer than mine. Are they unoccupied?” As if I don’t know.

“Indeed, and in fact my request is born of that lack of occupancy.” He gallantly extended an arm around which Arwen looped her hand, but her curiosity was aroused by his response. That almost sounded like a proposition. Surely not! “I promise this shall not take long.”

“Whoever it is, she’s a skilled rider.”

“She?”

“Do you not sense this from the resonance of the hoof-falls?”

Elladan cocked his head, listening to sounds only the keen ears of Elves could hear. “Perhaps. But you speak with a surety I don’t share.”

Elrohir shrugged. “If I’m right, though, I can’t guess who it might be. Our sister can ride well enough at need, but she’s no master of horses, whereas this rider is moving at an unusual speed given the difficulty of the path. I’ve never seen our grandmother ride at any pace other than stately, but more importantly I can’t imagine what would now cause her to hurry, for all her cares and journeys are at an end ... at least on these shores. Yet who but the Firstborn could penetrate our seclusion so easily and purposefully? Since I’ve now accounted for all known Elven females within riding distance, my question remains: who could it be?”

Elladan’s mind reached out to his brother’s.

I know who it is.

Faramir paced, his expression a turmoil of doubt. In the space of a single day I’ve seen both halves of this whole dither and fret thus, mused Arwen. What are the odds?

The two of them had long agreed to ignore honorifics in private converse, and so Faramir proceeded without title. “Arwen, you’ve finally made the personal connection with Éowyn that we both desired.” It wasn’t a question, but he paused as if it was, waiting for an answer.

Oh, Faramir, if you only knew. “I have, and though it was long overdue, it was most welcome and promises many more worthy encounters in the future. She’s a most admirable woman, and I’m sure we will grow even closer as time goes on.” Resisting the urge to add some sort of personally amusing yet opaque innuendo, she pressed on. “But how do you know this?”

“I was on my way to see her, having ... well, having somewhat unceremoniously suggested a temporary nocturnal separation due to her intense, albeit understandable, distress yestereve, I felt that I should offer some sort of recompense this morning. Instead, I espied you departing her quarters. As it was still very early and I didn’t know how long you’d spent in her company, or even if she’d slept at all, I thought it better to leave her to her rest.” There was a curious undertone to his words, and she wondered what guesses he was making. If he presses me for the truth, what will I do? Surely I cannot tell him, for that must be Éowyn’s choice to make.

“I indeed passed many hours in her company, and the sun was awake before we parted.” It was an evasion, but not a lie. “If it helps ease your mind, I promise that her distress is far less than it was, and in that I believe I played a role. But you were, I think, wise to let her be.”

“I felt so. And yet, not even an hour later I learned she is no longer within these walls. Or, at least, no one has seen her since last night, save her guards ... who would only report that she has departed. No one, that is, except you. And so, as a last resort — and begging your pardon for the invasiveness of my inquiry — I must ask if you know where I may find her?” His tone bore concern and curiosity rather than anxiety or accusation, but she could tell that there was more behind it.

“Faramir, I tell you truly that I don’t know where she might have gone. Even I was slightly fatigued when I left, for emotions oft ran high, yet she spoke to me of no plans. I assumed she would sleep for a time, though she was awake when I last saw her.” He wore a small frown as he considered this answer. “But perhaps you wonder needlessly. You saw yourself that yesterday was, for her, traumatic beyond measure, and moreover she then passed countless hours unable to deal with her grief, instead fulfilling the traditional duties of her position by serving as attendant to a formidable and mentally exhausting company. Further, she is of the Rohirrim. Perhaps — and this is only a surmise — she felt a solitary morning ride over the open plains would be a more appealing form of restoration than mere sleep?”

“I had considered this, Arwen, and to hear you say it helps put my mind at ease. I suppose I could check to see if her horse is also missing, but I’m sure you have the right of it.” He sighed. “I admit that I’ve a selfish reason for asking, for I suspect my own presence adds to her anxieties.”

Now why would he say that? “I’m sure you are nothing but a comfort to her, Faramir.”

He began pacing again. “I don’t know. I wish to believe so, yet...” Abruptly, he stopped, looking up at her. “My apologies. You were clearly occupied by your own cares when I interrupted, and I would not keep you from them.”

Despite this politesse, he doesn’t actually wish me to leave. He wishes to know something, and believes that I know it. I shall have to navigate these waters with great caution. “Nonsense, Faramir. I believe Éowyn and I are now close friends, and as I’ve said to you many times at the White Tower, I would have us be so as well. Speak to me the thoughts that trouble you.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “There’s no escaping the insight of the Firstborn, is there? But what would I say? I’m full of questions, yet without a fully formed one to ask of you. I wish neither confidences nor secrets revealed. Yet I’m... concerned for her, and have been for some time. I’ve known no one to whom I could talk about this, for I know of no one to whom she is close enough save her brother the King, and that conversation I deem impossible. If you two are now friends indeed, then perhaps you can help me. My concerns must not come between that friendship, but...” He trailed off.

He’s consumed by doubt. For what reason? Or do I not simply delay while I search for the right evasions? For a conversation about Éowyn that can only be shared with someone close to her, yet pointedly not with King Éomer, can have only one subject. But even should I possess such knowledge, does he really believe that I would willingly share it with him without her permission? By the Valar, how shall I find my way out of this quicksand without betraying either trust or truth?

“Faramir, your wife loves you to the deepest reaches of her heart. Of that there is no doubt, and if you would credit the ‘insight of the Firstborn,’ you will believe my words. So if you fret with cause, why would you not instead present that cause to her?”

“I don’t doubt her love.” He paused for a moment, and she considered his plain statement. He speaks the truth. So what is... ?

“It’s difficult to explain this in a way that makes sense, even to me,” he interrupted, turning and walking to the window. Morning sun streamed through the shutters, rendering him two disrupted facets of one person, half in light and half in darkness. “I believe that she gives all of herself to me, as I give all of myself to her. But,” he continued, straining against some formidable internal barrier, “while she’s all I need and all I will ever need, I ... I...” He took a deep breath. “I believe she needs more than I alone can give her.”

It was all Arwen could do to withhold a gasp of revelation confirmed. It’s as I expected: he knows!

“Lady Éowyn, though you are most unexpected company, we nonetheless greet you in friendship. How may we offer comfort after your ride? Know, however, that we’re ill-equipped to supply much aside from converse and the natural amenities of the forest.”

She efficiently dismounted without securing her horse, freeing him to wander in search of sustenance and knowing he’d return at her call, then flung a small saddlebag over a nearby limb. Her form-fitting summer riding gear clung to her sinews and curves as a revealing second skin, but she was otherwise unadorned. The topmost buttons of her shirt were open, revealing the sweat-sheen glistening upon her elegant neck, and her long golden hair flowed unbound and wind-tangled. Her steel-grey eyes flickered around the small clearing before returning to rest upon the brothers.

“Sons of Elrond, this glade is not easy to reach, and in fact it’s essentially invisible to anyone who doesn’t know this land and its hidden paths well. Yet you are here, and I deem it is not by chance.”

Elladan glanced at his brother. What should we say?

The full truth is not ours to tell.

“It’s difficult to hide mere places from the Elves, Lady Éowyn, for we commune with the world in ways unknown to Men. The land whispers its tales to us. Though we cannot easily explain how such things can be, we knew this space even before we sought it. But if we offend by our presence...”

“Not at all. It’s merely hidden, not off-limits. Nor will I venture to ask why you’ve secreted yourselves here, for it’s neither my business nor to my benefit to know.”

“Then to what do we owe this most surprising visit, Lady Éowyn? For neither have you ridden straight to this nearly impenetrable glade by chance, yet we didn’t believe our location to be general knowledge.”

“Indeed it is not. In fact, I cannot explain how I knew you were here at all, yet instinct steered me and I found what I sought without delay. For I was searching for you.”

If they were startled, they masked it well. “For what reason, Lady Éowyn?”

“Please feel no obligation to call me Lady. Not just because I neither require nor particularly enjoy titles, but because I deem that you both know it to be untrue.” Elrohir’s lips pursed, but they otherwise offered no visible response to her pointed jab.

Looking them hard in the eyes, one after the other, she folded her arms and leaned back into a stiff, challenging posture. “In any case, since I have in fact found you I will ask the question that’s been preying on my mind: what did you two do to me at Dunharrow?”

Arwen listened attentively as Faramir spoke, though his meandering declamation was as much to himself as her.

“I do not hold to the dictum that there should be no secrets in love, for one must be their own person entire if a relationship is to be more than affectionate proximity. Thus I don’t begrudge my beloved her secrets, no matter how closely held, whether they reside in the past, present, or future. Nor can I see how demanding open acknowledgment of any secret benefits our love. But with Éowyn, there’s more to it than that, and she has repeatedly told me as much while saying less than she could. She bears intense shame regarding certain secrets ... ones she promises she’s willing to reveal if I should ask, despite obviously preferring that I don’t. Sometimes, it’s not entirely clear to me which she truly wants ... but I wish she could free herself of the associated shame and guilt, for I desire them no more than I deem she deserves them.” His shoulders slumped, as if finally succumbing under the weight of a burden long-borne. “I thought, perhaps, that she might find her own solutions during our time apart. Alas, she seems more encumbered than ever, and behind her eyes are closed windows and opaque curtains where before there were only battered shutters and rent veils. I don’t know what I can do or say to ease her cares. All paths seem ill, yet a failure to choose at least one seems no less wrong. Am I not tasked with her comfort? And if so, how may I achieve that aim? I’m at a loss.”

With that he stopped, gazing out the window as if insight might suddenly appear on the horizon. Arwen closed her eyes, contemplating the many ways she might mend ... or forever mar ... a relationship for which she suddenly bore immense personal responsibility. Had I known I would be drawn into and entangled by this web so easily, would I still have lain with Éowyn? The question answered itself. Of course I would have; that choice was irresistible, and perhaps even fated. But I’ve been incautious, and distracted my own troubles, and should have been more prepared for this eventuality. Faramir confirms all my surmises, but what can I say in return that doesn’t betray her confidence or build unwanted barriers between the Steward and me?

“Faramir, without knowing the details I’m uncertain how to advise you. It well may be that there is no one correct answer. Moreover, a solution that eases one day may trouble another. All I can offer without more information is this: you must not retreat nor withhold, but neither can you overprotect.” When he didn’t immediately respond, she continued. “More than anything, she fears losing those she loves and those who love her. Remember the early death of her parents, the beloved King she lost not once but twice, and all those who’ve fallen around her. Consider her brother — her only remaining family — whose life was forever in the gravest danger, but who could take up bridle, spear, and sword to escape losses she was forced to face at close range and in trammels. Think of the horror she endured before the gates of Minas Tirith ... and the dark days after, when it seemed that the end of everything was imminent, and nothing so much as any promise of healing or happiness.”

“Think on this as well: the two of you have spent more time apart than together, and though she loves you unreservedly, when you take up your life in Ithilien you will tear her away from her homeland and everyone she’s ever known. Her entire life has been loss without gain, grief without recompense, love without reward, and she has faced all of this alone. Now, unlooked-for, she has finally gained you. She has no experience living with, and for, another ... other than doting without hope on an ailing King who still perished at her side. She has given up much to reach this point, yet she has even more to give up. She has won your love but has no idea how to keep it, and thus fears that she will lose it — and you — as she’s lost all else.”

His silence lasted long, and she began to worry that she’d said the wrong thing, or too much. Finally, with grave solemnity, he replied. “I have intuited much of this, but only through shadowed glimpses. It’s painfully jarring to hear it laid out so plainly and directly. You are, of course, right, and though I’ve tried to quell these fears, I must give thought to how I can remove all doubt, for I will never abandon her. But while I would have her at my side at all times, I acknowledge that she’ll need to return to her homeland from time to time, and I will encourage that.” He dropped his head. “As for the rest: though I lack the intuition of the Firstborn, I deem you know more than you’re willing to say. Nay,” he cautioned, raising his hand, “don’t answer that. If I’m right, then there’s a reason, and as I trust both of you I must believe it’s a good one. Though I’m still not much closer to an answer to my dilemma.”

Arwen moved closer and pitched her voice in its most soothing tones. “Even were there more to say, you know I would not say anything if she does not. Neither of you would trust me if I did.”

He nodded, half in sadness and half in relief. “I hear and agree with you.” With a sigh, he continued. “Thank you, Arwen. My fear, at least, is partially quelled. Now I must seek resolution.” Suddenly earnest, he added, “I think she will need you, at times. If you would do her, and us, this kindness...”

Laying a supportive hand on his forearm, feeling the tension in his tight, trembling muscles, she answered, “of course I will be here for her. As she will be for me as well, for I know I can rely upon her. But I can also help you, Faramir. You only need ask.”

Looking back at the window, he opened his mouth to speak. No words came.

“Given that I’ve offered, I sense there’s indeed something else you wish to know.”

Grimacing, he continued. “For me to know her without reservation — every secret, every thought, every feeling — she would need to be me, and I’m not so narcissistic that I believe I could fall in love with myself. Still, I admit that I can’t entirely understand why, or how...” He shook his head, trying to clear his confusion. “No, it will have to be enough. I will trust in our love.”

“You may always trust in that, for it is infinite,” Arwen replied, but even as she said it she was filled with urgent anxiety, for Faramir’s expression was darkening into doubt. This is the most delicate moment yet. I could tell him what he wishes to know, but even by withholding details I would be betraying her in broad strokes. Yet I deem I cannot leave his question unanswered. If I could only make him see without...

She caught herself, suddenly rigid with surprise. For, as had happened while in Éowyn’s company, a solution arrived unbidden from the ether, fully formed yet almost reckless in its absurdity.

Surely I cannot do such a thing!

Her hand gripped his arm more tightly, her own tension growing in concert with his.

It might be the only way. But it’s dangerous — for both of us — and I must tread most carefully. Even as she considered her next step, a dissociated corner of her mind mocked the irony of the path that now opened before her.

“Faramir, look into my eyes. Trust, if you can. I may not be able to sate your curiosity entire, but I think I can salve it, and thus help you come to your own understanding.”

He stared at her with fierce intensity, and suddenly the raw masculinity of him suffused her body and rushed straight to her loins. He’s never before revealed a desire for me, though I’ve learned to expect such from all Men. I’m not even sure he is now; it may just be that what I’m about to do makes me interpret his gaze thus. I do admit he’s as handsome as he is vulnerable, and were many matters and people entirely different I would at least consider bedding him. But that’s not my purpose here. Not exactly, anyway. She moved her fingers to the clasp of her dress, which slid smoothly and silently down her body, leaving her clad in nearly transparent undersilks that highlighted her graceful curves. Faramir’s widening eyes didn’t wander lower, though it took a mighty effort, but he stiffened with shock ... and what was now an entirely unmistakable but fiercely restrained lust.

Placing a hand on his cheek, she looked up at him with open sensuality, their breath mingling in the air between. Standing on her toes and leaning forward, she kissed him.

Elrohir glanced at his brother, an entire silent narrative passing between them in less than a moment, then returned his attention to Éowyn. She remained in her confrontational pose, waiting for an answer.

“Since the surety in your voice suggests there’s little point in attempting to evade your claim, I would first ask how you discovered it.”

With a dismissive shrug, Éowyn replied, “I was in crisis last night, but the intervention of an unexpected friend helped me find clarity and, eventually, peace. Along the way, words were spoken that jostled open previously hidden chambers of memory. But though I may sound justifiably accusatory depending on your answer, I ask my question with all earnestness, for I do not know what you did ... only that you did something, that it has affected me in ways that remain unclear, and that I’m consumed with a need to understand it.”

Elrohir nodded gravely. “You have our apologies, first and foremost. Though you may not remember it, your need was beyond urgent and we felt we had to act immediately. But we did so without your knowledge or permission. For this, and for the consequences of what we wrought, we are sorry.”

The side of her mouth curled into a smirk. “I would need to know what you’ve done to know if I should accept or reject this apology.”

Again Elrohir glanced at his brother.

He resisted with both mind and body for as long as he could, but the compelling strength of her kiss held him in place. Eventually, he was forced to succumb, returning her passion with his own, pulling her into his strong arms, opening his mouth to let their tongues meet and tease. Breathless, she pulled away, her wet eyes evidence of her own vulnerability. Suddenly, as if snapping awake from the languor of a daydream, he reeled backward in panic.

“What have I ... Arwen, what... ?”

“What do you see, Faramir? What do you feel?”

Still stunned, he allowed himself the brief, illicit thrill of appraising her in more detail. Her firm, rose-hued nipples pressed through her sheer undergarments, begging to be caressed. Her lips were swollen, and behind her eyes was a slow-burning fire.

“I ... I see the Queen, and the wife of my beloved King. What I feel is irrelevant.”

She approached him again, lifting the wisp of silk over her head, revealing her gloriously naked body to his petrified gaze.

“Look more closely,” she whispered, pressing her luxuriantly soft flesh against his still-clothed form. His hardening shaft pressed into her belly. “Can’t you feel me? Am I truly irrelevant?” She kissed him with more heat than before, and any hope of resistance fled.

Éowyn sat against a tree, her face wearing yet another of the long parade of emotions that raged across it while Elrohir and Elladan wove their intricate and disturbing tale. Along the way she’d been compelled by their narrative to reveal much of her own history, for the two stories were inextricable, and the brothers shared more than a few knowing glances in response.

“I tell you truly that I only remember a crazed, headlong flight, running into someone or something, and then, of course, the dream of which you’ve spoken ... though now I learn it wasn’t just a dream. In fact, I remember it with far too much detail for it to be a mere dream.” She flushed and squirmed at the memory, and the faint perspiration that had evaporated since her arrival began to return. “As for the rest...”

“You were asleep,” Elladan reminded her. “A dream it was, whether induced or not.”

“With you two standing watch over my naked body? Or were you standing? Did you press your advantage, and if so how far? Nay: though I should — and still might — be angry at liberties taken without permission, that’s not my chief concern at the moment. For while I now have a sense of what you did, I still don’t know for sure how or why you did it.”

Elrohir looked grave. “Do you really wish to know? I warn you that it’s a potentially shameful secret known only to our family, its discovery is rooted in the gravest darkness of any Age, and as a rule we would not willingly speak of either. Nor is its method one of which you are likely to approve, especially in the sunlit aftermath. But as we’ve acted without your consent, you have earned this truth, and despite our misgivings we will tell you enough for your purposes ... if that is still your desire.”

By the mighty hoof-falls of Nahar, is that it? The very same thing that Arwen did to me mere hours ago? But no ... she said that she could only read what was already written, and that effecting change was not among her powers. So there must be a skill beyond what she knows, and it’s apparent that her brothers know the secret. Her flush turned to a burning flame at what this guess portended. I’m still sure that the only things to enter my sex ... or my other passage ... that night were my fingers, for I bore no evidence to the contrary, but certainly they must have touched me in some manner. And the taste ... I remember that flavor so vividly, and with all my experience since then I know I’m not wrong about what it was. What’s the matter with me, that I can’t summon outrage at this violation? Still, there will be time enough for that conversation later. While my rapidly weakening resolve remains, I must seek my last few answers.

“It is, but let’s leave that aside for a moment. You say you identified the loss of an inhibition that should have existed within me, and an elevated drive to ... well, I need not repeat an explanation you’ve already offered. I’ve told you who I believe was responsible for both. Wouldn’t it have been better to simply restore me to who I was before?”

“How were we to know who you were, having never met you until that day? We can see some of what was, much of what is, and even a little of what will be, but we are not seers; our knowledge must have a tangible source. We guessed the gross outlines of what had been done to you, but we fully discerned neither its author nor its method until now. Without that knowledge, it was as likely we’d damage you further as rebuild that which was lost. More importantly, I think you misperceive the skills at our employ. We are far from the most powerful of our kin, but not even Galadriel wields enough power to contest what Ilúvatar hath wrought without doing evil no less than that of the Enemy. I’m not even sure Mithrandir himself could have done what you suggest, for there’s little doubt that your antagonist employed some trick from Curunír’s perverted wizardry. It’s a most regrettable thing to have happened, and we might have mended it if we could, but...”

Elladan took up the answer. “ ... but you were in imminent danger, and time was running out. You would have followed Aragorn and the rest of us, for many of the same reasons you later secreted yourself among your own Riders ... except far behind and entirely alone, for you would have been unable to disguise yourself in similar manner among so small and familiar a company. The Oathbreakers would have taken you, first in body and then in mind, before you reached Erech, and that would have been a horrific fate indeed ... especially as the distraction might have rendered them unable or unwilling to answer Aragorn’s summons, with all the dire consequences that would follow. Did you not describe to us another dream that foretold this very outcome? Our choice was to act or to let you die in terror ... and worse ... within hours of our meeting. We’ve apologized for that choice and for making it without your knowledge or consent, but would you have bid us to carelessly embrace the alternative? Even then, know that we considered it ... for what we did, we did not do lightly.”