I give Professer J.R.R. Tolkien all the credit for the basis of this story. ALL of Tolkien’s characters are his and I am simply borrowing them, with the full intention that people should see the characters in here as his wonderful creation. Thanks Tolkien!

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A fair, beautiful maiden stood looking out over the country she knew and loved best: Rohan, home of the horse lords. Her eyes wandered and she seemed to daydream… and to be searching for something. She started as a familiar, large hand touched her shoulder.

“Eowyn,” said her brother, a handsome horseman, “You have that searching look again. Yet I don’t think I have to wonder long at what it is about.”

Eowyn feigned annoyance as she took her brother’s hand off her shoulder. “You teasing older brother. You know whither my heart and mind wander yet you tease me, mercilessly!” She laughed as she looked into his eyes.

“Come, and ride with me, or let me have the pleasure of your company. It makes my heart grow heavy to know that someone is arriving who seems to have a great claim upon your affections.”

Eowyn’s color appeared to deepen a bit, and changing the subject she said, “A ride would be lovely. Truthfully, I was hoping you would ask for my company, and ride with me… so that I can beat you in a race!” She laughed and took off ahead of Eomer down to the stable yard.

Faramir lay thoughtfully looking up at the shadowy ceiling of his tent on the road to Rohan… and his fair lady. He turned over and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible on the itchy, small cot, and listened to the nighttime sounds coming from the outside of their woodland camp. He sat up, wincing as he felt a mild pain in his shoulder, where not long ago he had been shot by an arrow. However uncomfortable, it made him think of Eowyn, her shining eyes, golden hair, and the night when they had first met.

Deciding he couldn’t possibly sleep at the moment, he pulled a black tunic on, emblazoned with a silver tree. He tried as softly as he could to sneak out of his flapping and noisy green tent and walked across the dew-dampened grass, to where he saw a small orange fire glowing serenly in the chill night air. He was rather surprised to find a gruff looking dwarf sitting by it.

“Evening, master Gimli,” Faramir said, “You cannot find sleep either?”

Gimli chuckled softly as he warmed his hands over the fire. “That blasted elf. It’s not that I’m not tired, but that when he is restless there is nothing to do but wait for him and try not to fall asleep over this fire.” Gimli pointed to a shadow that was standing at the edge of the camp, and appeared to be looking intently into the space where the wood grew thicker.

“Is there something out there that I am not aware about?” asked Faramir, his curiosity piqued.

“Ah, yes,” responded the Dwarf, “Something that no one is aware about except that blasted elf!” Then he turned back to the fire, fingering his battle-worn axe. Faramir slowly stood up and turned to walk across the green to where Legolas was standing.

“Hello, Faramir,” he said, without even turning, even before Faramir was a few feet closer. Faramir said nothing, but his hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he looked into the wood where he presumed the elf was looking.

Faramir moved up to stand beside his friend and paused, looking at Legolas’ face. It seemed to him, half covered in shadow, that his eyes were not entirely focusing on the greenwood in front of him. They were wandering, wandering, in the strange, unknown paths of waking elvish dreams. Faramir marveled at this for a moment, as he had heard about it before, but never had seen his comrade in this state. He turned to go quietly, but he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked back at Legolas and the elf seemed to be entirely as he always was, his eyes traveling the path of the “real” world.

“I see nothing, now, but earlier I awoke for some strange noises disturbed me… I know not what they are or were… But they seem to have disappeared, and we needn’t worry. Except for Gimli. Little oaf. For some reason, he insists on waiting at the fire. Says I disturb him! I think it must be when I dream sitting or standing up… dwarves. Silly creatures, deep down.” Legolas’ light airy laughter silently echoed over the camp, as he walked back with Faramir, who too was smiling at how such two opposite races were best friends and ready to defend each to the death yet could tease at the same time.

Eowyn once again stood in her favorite spot, overlooking Rohan and the horses that symbolized it. The tall pale grass swayed in the steady and tormenting breeze. The lady’s eyes still ever searched for what she was looking for; and her whole face seemed to radiate a smile as she saw in the distance horsemen, yet still nothing but small and slowly moving dots.

“How good it is to see you!” Eowyn’s voice said over the commotion of all the rest. Her eyes traveled ever and anon to Faramir, who walked over, and looking at Eowyn as if there was no one else around he said, “Elen síla lúmenn’ omentielvo.”

Eowyn looked puzzled for a moment then laughed, “Faramir, you ever surprise me! Is that Sindarin?”

“Yes,” he replied, his eyes twinkling. Legolas extricated himself from a boring conversation with some guard of Rohan, and placed a hand on Faramir’s shoulder.

“Ah, my lady, so you think this fine man of Gondor has the gift of languages of the elves?” Eowyn’s face changed into more mirth as it dawned upon her. “Perhaps a little help from a certain Mirkwood elf has helped master Faramir,” Legolas said, “In translation, that means ‘A star shines upon the hour of our meeting.’ In truth, he had no idea what it meant until I told him.” Legolas laughed and walked back (avoiding the company of that certain guard) to Gimli and Arod.

“My lady,” Faramir said as he held out his arm to Eowyn, “Would you care to go on ahead with me?” Eowyn smiled and looked back at everyone gathered near the gates.

“Alright,” she said, “But only if you join me later on for a ride with the others. You cannot simply make the excuse of being hurt or too tired, or that you have ‘important duties to attend to.'” She took his arm and together, the strong and handsome man of Gondor and the White Lady of Rohan walked up along the golden path to the mighty and magnificent palace of Rohan.

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So, you didn’t fall asleep? Good! I hope it was to your liking; please review and feel free to pm with any constructive criticism/thoughts you have! Thanks for reading.