Fic: when only the moon (Eowyn)

[swatkat]

The other day roga said we should write stories about things that grow, because it was Tu Bishvat. It made me think of Eowyn at the end of ROTK. I'm not sure why I wrote *this*, though. With an extra dose of pretentious purple prose. *facepalm*


Title: when only the moon
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (bookverse, AU)
Pairing: Eowyn/Faramir
Words: 490
A/N: Not mine. This is AU. Title from Dylan Thomas' In My Craft or Sullen Art. Please, say whatever you want.
Summary: Eowyn is a shieldmaiden, her sword-arm broken, and what does she know of growth?

+

She is a leaf in his arms, trembling in the wind, drifting further and further away from the world of Men and into the white light.

'My lady,' he whispers, later, when the world returns. His breath is warm against her skin. 'My glorious shieldmaiden.'

Moonlight seeps through the curtains, caressing his skin, his face as he sleeps. He is as stern as the stones of fair Minas Tirith; as noble.

Her sword-arm throbs, ice and venom, and she wills herself not to dream.

+

The Queen looks at her with her knowing, Elven eyes.

Eowyn is a shieldmaiden still, of the House of Eorl and the House of Húrin, most noble Stewards of Gondor. They call her the White Lady of Rohan, and sing ballads in her praise.

There is compassion in the Queen's eyes, pity, and their sting is as of arrows.

+

'Tomorrow we ride to Osgiliath, lady. There is much I hope to show you.' Lord Faramir, immersed in his scrolls: her Steward is also a scholar. He puts them aside as she approaches.

'The City will miss its Steward, lord.'

'It is not too far away,' he smiles. 'And it is the king's will.'

Ithilien, it is said, was the garden of Gondor: desolate now, by the fallen old city. She will ride with her lord and tend to the garden, heal with her touch and watch things blossom.

Eowyn is a shieldmaiden, her sword-arm broken, and what does she know of growth?

+

Swift is the wind, and quick her steed, the finest of the stables of Rohan. Beside her ride the men of Gondor, green-clad, singing of joy, of hope.

Dernhelm rode with the Rohirrim, and did not believe he would ride again.

Eowyn did not wish to.

+

Osgiliath was once a fair city. Now there are ruins: wounds and scars, memories of the Enemy's fell shadow. Ashes, from the pyres of fallen heroes.

+

At night she sits by the fire, and he tells her tales of olden days: Númenor. In the firelight he is as stern as the stones of fair Minas Tirith; as noble.

A chill wind from the East rustles fallen leaves all around them, and Eowyn draws closer to the fire.

Her sword-arm feels numb: like ice.

+

Voices call her name in the darkness, whisper ill things in her ear. He is not by her side when she wakes.

She sees him at a distance, motionless in the moonlight.

'Many battles we have fought here,' he says when she draws near. 'Many nights, with no other wish than to survive the night.' The moonlight caresses his skin, his face, and when he turns to face her, there are shadows in his eyes.

Dernhelm rode with the Rohirrim, who sang of death and darkness: Eowyn knows.

Her sword-hand meets his, clasps. His hand, against hers, is cold.

They stand, staring at the moonwashed stones of the city.

+++

Comments

[roga.livejournal.com]

I have shivers running doen my spine - this is gorgeous, and I haven't read LoTR fics in three or four years but this drew me right back in.

(And yay! You wrote!)

And have I mentioned this is gorgeous? ♥

[swatkat24.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I've never written LOTR fic, and I have no idea where this came from, so I'm glad you like!

[zulu]

Oh man, that is gorgeous. Loved Eowyn's uncertainty when turning to a new purpose, and the fact that she and Faramir have some of the same demons. Really well done.

[swatkat24.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Eowyn and Faramir reduce me to incoherent flaily love.

[thedeadparrot.livejournal.com]

I love this, the rich, breif glimpses, the uncertain but present hope. And your Eowyn is gorgeous. Seriously.

[swatkat24.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I do love Eowyn - I've loved her ever since I read the books, but this is the first time I'm writing her.

[delle.livejournal.com]

I LOVE YOU AND I LOVE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[swatkat24.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you like! Thank you. *g*

[lyras.livejournal.com]

I don't care what you think of the language here - I love it :). It's beautiful and elegant and perfectly in keeping with the books.

He is as stern as the stones of fair Minas Tirith

Ah, beautiful.

[swatkat24.livejournal.com]

Not too purple? I wanted something that fit with the bookverse, but you know.

Thank you for reading.

[sk56.livejournal.com]

Yes, it is very rich prose, and I don't know how much longer it could be without breaking up (like a sauce made with butter, perhaps) but it is lovely as it is, and you should be pleased.

[swatkat24.livejournal.com]

I wanted to do something that fit with the bookverse, and it got... rich, as you say. The idea of writing longer things in the Tolkienverse is intimidating.

Thank you!

[catsma.livejournal.com]

Yummy...and thank you, this is beautifully crafted.

I didn't know you did LOTR, you sneaky thing you...LOL

[swatkat24.livejournal.com]

I didn't know I did LOTR, either! I know not where this came from! Thank you for reading. *g*

[ijemanja.livejournal.com]

This is glorious and haunting and oh Eowyn. Just lovely - I'm so glad I found it. (Scanning back through flist.)

Oh, and um, hi. :)

[swatkat24.livejournal.com]

She lives! *waves madly*

And thank you. *g*