Eowyn tossed her head, the red-gold tresses glittering in the scarlet sunlight. “I want to go with you!” She protested. Faramir sighed.

“Eowyn… love… I know it is hard for you-” Eowyn interrupted, her normally kind voice hardened with an edge of steel.

“No, you DON’T know. You’ve never been left behind… watching the men saddle, mount and away gallop… watching the sun catch on the spears, and seeing the shining blades disappear, not knowing who will come back or who will die… or if any will return at all!” Her brave voice broke, and a tear slid down her cheek. Faramir touched her shoulder. His voice was sad, longing.

“Yes, darling, I do know. And I would give everything in the world if I could still know. One battle, Eowyn, one battle – you do not, truly understand the terror and hate of war.” Eowyn sniffed and pressed her brow against Faramir chest. The cold metal flashed with the sudden movement.

“Let me tell you a story, Eowyn…”

Young Faramir hurried to catch up to his older brother, the proud and noble Boromir, favored by the steward. “Boro-miiir!” His voice held a streak of anger and rebellion. “Papa said I couldn’t go… ask him if I can go, Boro-miiir!” he pleaded. Boromir’s light brown hair touched Faramir’s red hair as he leaned down to hug his sibling.

“Now, Faramir, you know you can’t go. I already asked Father!” Faramir wishfully reached out to touch Langhelset, Boromir’s long, fancy sword. The shining steel breastplate matched the sparkling hilt of Langhelset, and Faramir self-conciously ran a hand over his simple brown leather vest. His waist proudly wore a beautifully-fashioned wooden dagger, but it was nothing compared to Langhelset. Faramir sighed. Nothing was ever right!

Eowyn’s eyes searched Faramir’s. “Well?” she asked, like a little child. “What happened?” Her eagerness amused Faramir.

“My first battle was shockingly different from what I’d imagined – I hoped for glory, valour, and victory-but I got humiliation, pain, and fear. I ran – ran from battle, after my leg was hit by an arrow. I managed to stumble beneath a shelter of trees, until I heard chanting and singing and victorious cries. I slipped out among the men and began to cheer with them. Nobody ever knew – but Boromir and now you, Eowyn… Boromir is dead…” He glanced at the sky. “By…! It is late! I had better go.” He gently kissed Eowyn. “I love you… and Barahir. You must stay for me… And Barahir! Hya!” So went Faramir of Gondor.

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