The Moon in Ithilien

They had quarreled. Afterwards, Eowyn couldn’t remember what had started the argument or how it continued past that point. Both too hardheaded and too new at being married to have any practice at making up, the Prince and Princess of Ithilien ended up glaring at each other.

“This is no good,” she said at last, baffled.

Faramir looked down towards the bustling hall of their newly built home and shook his head. “No. We cannot solve this here. Let’s go to the stables.”

They crossed the courtyard and entered the low building. There, amidst the odors of new pine boards and horses, stablemen worked steadily. Eowyn took in the scene, then slanted a glance at her husband.

“Do you think that your Rider bride will only speak sense around horses?” She could feel her shoulders tightening up as if to prepare for a new quarrel, the same muscles she had used to hold a shield and sword.

Faramir replied in soothing tones, “By no means; I think we ought to talk away from all these people.” He quickly chose a pair of horses and pulled out saddles and a sack of basic supplies. With the reflex of her years of riding, she fell to saddling one of the horses, checking girths and adding extra blankets to the saddlebags. She had no idea where he intended to go, but this late in the day they might well be out when the chill of evening fell.

They took a twisting path through scattered forest and the hills of Ithilien and along a defile that narrowed until they had to leave their horses behind. Eowyn had not spoken since they set out, not wanting to restart the argument they’d left behind. Faramir led on silently, although he glanced over his shoulder at her. A little after sunset, the path itself vanished. The way grew rocky and slanting, and Faramir stopped from time to time to take his bearings. The full moon’s beams glanced through rare gaps in the hilly land to the East. Eowyn, placing her feet with care, could only see a yard or two before her.

At last they climbed over a small ridge and the way dropped rapidly, growing darker as they made their way beneath a ridge down which a stream fell. When they finally came to the stream, he drew her up on a rock that stuck out from the hillside nearly her own height. From its top, he stepped through the thin screen of water. She followed and found herself in a narrow stone room, utterly dark except for a muted glint of star shine behind the waterfall.

Faramir unrolled a blanket and sat. She threw herself down gratefully beside him. They’d traveled more than half the night, and experienced horsewoman though she was, she hadn’t been able to sleep in the saddle in Ithilien’s rough terrain. After the last couple of miles on foot, Eowyn was only too glad to rest. A chill breeze blew through the spray, whistling past them into some deeper cavern behind. Eowyn looked up towards him, but her husband’s face was lost in the darkness.

“What is next? Are we to talk here?”

“Now, Heart, we wait,” he answered. The endearment he spoke so casually robbed her of any inclination to argue. Instead she leaned into him where he sat and they rested there without speaking. After some time, Eowyn shifted her stiffened body. She saw the movement of her knees more clearly then, and when she turned her head, Faramir’s profile in faint outline, mouth slack in sleep. She must have slept as well.

“Faramir, it’s almost dawn,” she said softly, knowing that he would wake at even a slight sound. “We’ve been here several hours.”

He stirred and wrapped his arm around her, turning to tuck his nose in against her ear. “Then it’s exactly time. Look through the Window.” She shivered at the feel of his chilly nose, but leaned into him nevertheless as she looked out again at the falling water.

A line of silver dripped down through the pouring sheet, followed by more, glittering like white fire. Slowly the ripe edge of the moon slipped down, a gleaming pearl in the depths of the falls that sent sparkling light all around it. She watched raptly as it shimmered, moving slowly through the rushing curtain of water. Finally she looked over to Faramir, only to find him watching her, rather than the begemmed waterfall.

“The moon gives Ithilien its name,” he told her softly. “But for me, White Lady, you bring the moonlight to this land. I do not want to be at odds with you.”

She threw her arms around him. “Then I vow we shall never quarrel again while the Moon touches this Land of the Moon.”

“I vow the same,” he declared, and sealed the promise with a kiss. They had no more need of words that night.

A week of such sweetly brilliant nights followed as Eowyn could not have imagined. It seemed that the glow of the Moon suffused the whole of Ithilien. They had only to look up to the sky to be in perfect accord.

At the end of the week, however, there came a morning when Eowyn went to the hall to break her fast and found one of her husband’s squires waiting for her with a written schedule for the day. Three bites into her porridge and two lines into the schedule, she leaped up and raced from the hall to confront Faramir. When she found him in the forecourt, preparing to leave for the day, her wrath doubled.

“You set a meeting for me with the delegation from Harad! And now I see that you plan to disappear for the day and leave me to deal with them by myself!” she cried.

“You grew up in the household of a king, Love,” he soothed. “Diplomacy is as bred into you as honor.”

“Honor! I don’t speak even a word of their language, you – you -” just as she ran out of words to express her outrage, he caught her hand.

“Please, let us not argue, Eowyn. Waning half moon,” he reminded with a nod towards the sky. She followed the gesture and saw the flattened orb beginning its descent.

With an effort, she reined in her temper. It felt as if she’d ridden a horse full tilt at an obstacle only to have it balk at the jump at the last moment, leaving her dizzy with unfulfilled momentum and dangerously loose in the saddle. Just as she would have on a shying horse, Eowyn regathered her control. After a moment, she felt able to give her husband a bland smile. “You are right: We should not argue. I know you will agree, when you think it through, that we ought to welcome the Haradrim together.”

He smiled then, his familiar fond humorous smile. “Indeed, Love, I think that we must, or be forsworn. It seems that we must resign ourselves to live without quarreling, for when is the Moon not in the Land of the Moon?”

For the most part after that, the Prince and Princess of Ithilien did live without quarrels. Although they started many, they never could keep them going once one or the other had inquired as to the phase of the Moon. That inevitably dissolved them both in laughter, particularly when Eowyn would slip up behind her husband and whisper, “The Moon won’t show her face for hours, so I really do intend to argue this time.”