Warnings: Erm... fluff? I ought to start putting a sugar warning on these things... Rated by number of fillings...
Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case, the great Mr Tolkien. I just borrow them every now and then :) And I promise to give them back… eventually!
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Author's Notes: Written for
Previous Scene (because it's not archived here)
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T LIKE IT?"
"I mean..." Faramir paused, and looked up at Eowyn. She looked every inch the warrior woman she was, cutting an imposing sight standing there with her hands on her hips. Her hair was loose and framed her face perfectly. It would have been a beautiful sight were it not for the intimidating expression on her face.
"Well?" She demanded.
"It's just that..."
"Aragorn liked it." She pouted. He groaned. She turned around and stood there, waiting for him to make the next move.
"But I have more discerning tastes than Aragorn..." He flinched as she turned back round and glared at him, suddenly wondering if this was how the Witch-King died, maybe he insulted her cooking too.
"Well I'm sorry you don't like my stew. You can cook for yourself in future!"
Faramir paced around the great hall. This was the third day in a row that Eowyn had managed to avoid him. How, he wasn't entirely sure. Faramir thought that it was only him and Boromir that had known about all the secret doors and hidden passageways in the citadel of Minas Tirith. Ever since she'd cooked that stew for him and stormed out of the room he hadn't seen her. Three whole days!
He'd looked everywhere, left flowers in her room by way of an apology, but still he hadn't seen anything of her. No one could tell him where she was. Could or would, he wasn't sure which.
The thought that he had seriously upset her and caused her to flee from the city worried him immensely. He slumped in the throne that dominated the room. It wasn't that it wasn't safe in the wilds now, or that she was unable to take care of herself. It was simply that he missed her. And he couldn't tell her because she'd gone and disappeared because he'd offended her.
"Oh Eowyn, where are you?" He muttered to himself. He ignored the rustling he heard, imagining it just to be the breeze through the open windows.
"I'm right here."
"Eowyn! Where have you been? I was so worried!" At the sound of her voice, Faramir leapt out of the throne and turned towards her. She was standing at the back of the room, having concealed herself behind the heavy drapes that had always hung there.
"I've been here all the time. Well, not here, but around the citadel."
"I didn't mean to insult you Eowyn," He walked towards her, hands outstretched, fully expecting her to ignore him and brush straight past him on her way out of the throne room. He wasn't disappointed. He called out to her as she reached the door.
"If I'd have wanted a cook, I would have fallen in love with the head chef! Not you." Eowyn stopped, one hand resting on the door handle.
"You...?" She asked, without even turning around.
"Love you? Yes." Quickly, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her, a small sigh of relief escaping as she didn't refuse his advance. He held on to her tightly, breathing in her scent. "I fell in love with a strong beautiful woman. One who can hold her own in battle. I didn't fall in love with her because I thought she could cook. I fell in love with her because of what she was. A strong, brave woman determined to protect her family and her land."
"I'm sure she loves you too, despite the fact that she knows she can't cook." Faramir smiled and turned her to face him.
"I do love you Eowyn." He said softly before leaning in to kiss her.
"And I you Faramir."