Summary: Just when he thinks things are going all right… it turns out they’re not.
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!
Author's Notes: Written for el_esteleth by request over here. Yet another continuation from here – I’m making a habit of this!
Feedback makes friends!
“You had me so worried.”
“Yes, worried.” Faramir nodded. The hunting party had come back, most injured and Eowyn had just grinned at him.
“You needn’t be worried. You know I can take care of myself.” With a huff Eowyn turned and stalked from the room. Faramir ran a hand down his face, wondering how it was that he managed to succeed in annoying Eowyn so often. This wasn’t the first time and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last time.
With a sigh he crossed to the doorway, hoping against hope to catch a glimpse of her as she disappeared down the corridor. What he hadn’t expected was to see her leaning against the wall outside the door.
“Faramir, you knew when you met me that I was more than capable of defending myself. Did I not prove myself in battle?”
“And yet you still persist in treating me like some helpless maiden.”
“I can’t help it!” Faramir protested. “It’s not that I think you’re helpless. I just worry about you getting injured. It hurts to see you hurt.” There, nothing but the honest truth. He swore he could hear an echo of Boromir laughing at him in his head, but he paid it no mind. Especially when Eowyn cupped his cheek and smiled at him.
“My darling Faramir.” Evidently what he said had worked and he mentally poked his tongue out at his dead brother.