Storm

Storm

A/N: This is about my fourth revision of this story, and it's taking a turn towards the dark side - which I like! It is much more angst-filled and Eowyn is by far more resistant to my ever so beloved counsellor, which is much more IC for her. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the revisions; I think it's shaping up to be much better than it was. Picture for this story is taken from Vereena's Grima/Eowyn fanfiction archive, which in its heyday was the place for all things G/E. It has since come to a standstill, which is a great loss to us all. Thank you, Vereena, for all your hard work, and thanks for the lovely Photoshopped pictures you did of our dear counsellor and his Lady...

Dark clouds were brewing overhead. I could see them looming ominously as I urged my horse to move faster. It had been raining hard at Helm’s Deep, and I was soaking already; should more rain come, I would undoubtedly catch a chill. To suffer from such an illness could potentially be fatal, alone as I was and riding in the midst of abandoned country. However, I had many miles to travel before I would reach my destination, and I knew that no matter how hard I rode, the rain would never wait for me.

My husband Faramir was camping on the edges of Fangorn Forest with a large party of his Ithilien Rangers. They were searching for one of their number, the youngest, whose name was Angaran. He had been sent on a scouting mission and had disappeared, his trail leading far into the land of Rohan. He never returned, much to the chagrin of Faramir. Angaran's ailing mother had placed the boy in Faramir's charge when he was very young, and Faramir saw Angaran in a sort of fatherly way. Knowing Angaran could be in danger had caused him great distress, and nothing I had said or done had soothed him.

Secretly, in my heart, I was not displeased that Faramir was to travel towards my home country. It had been overlong since I had been permitted to ride freely through the plains of my homeland, and, trapped as I often was inside the walls of Minas Tirith, I desired the vast, empty expanses that Rohan offered. When Faramir had told me of his intention to depart, I begged to ride with him. At first he flatly refused. He could not afford to bring me along with him; I would only be a burden; I could potentially find myself in serious danger. I persisted, and at last Faramir relented.

His riders often grumbled that I should not be with them, but it was all in good humor, for Faramir's riders loved me overmuch and were apt to spoil me. They played silly tricks to impress me and often asked with deep awe of my battle with the Witch King and the illness that soon befell me after. I soon grew weary of repeating the story each night, but they were good listeners, and I cannot deny that I appreciated having such an attentive audience.

In Gondor, when Faramir was gone, many of the women sneered down on me and spoke of my achievements as though they were indecent. "Men's work," they would say, "And woman's folly." They often said such things of me; they believed me inferior because of my Rohirric lineage and my inability to perform any of the usual domestic tasks. I cannot cook or embroider or draw; I am fine enough at dancing, but not elegant or graceful on my feet. My singing voice is fair enough, but deeper and, according to most standards, unfeminine. As far as Gondorian society was concerned, I had nothing worth offering their sacred Steward. Sometimes I felt that way myself.

I never revealed my feelings to Faramir, of course. He was not at home often enough for me to speak to him deeply and in earnest about anything. When he was with me, we spent our too brief times together celebrating and enjoying, taking nothing seriously. But the brevity of our life together had grown tedious, and I longed for something solid and strong, something deep and rich that I knew could withstand the trials of all lifetimes - something I had thought I had experienced with Faramir towards the ending of the War of the Ring. The strong love I had so cherished between Faramir and I seemed to have faded to a certain fondness, as of friends; and I grew weary of pretending that it was otherwise.

I had hoped to have chance to speak to him of my feelings, in the hopes that he might soothe my fears, but travel had proved rough and tiring, and when at last we retired to our tent he was soon asleep. I had not the heart to speak to him of such matters when his own heart was so heavy with other things. He fretted so for Angaran, and I often felt a wave of sympathy for his pain.

Yet as the weeks had passed I soon felt as though I truly were an extra burden to the group. I was not nearly as swift and silent as they in my skirts, and I had never been trained to move as they did through the shadows of trees and cloud, scouting and finding marks that would lead them to their prey. I was not capable of these things and there was not time to teach me. Instead, I spoke to Faramir one night of visiting a few of the places dearest to my heart in Rohan, and then returning to meet him as swiftly as I would. He was more easily persuaded in this, but grew angry when I insisted that I ride alone. "Times are still dangerous, Éowyn," he had warned me. "I will not see you come to harm, with the blame at my hands."