29. His Horse-lady (Faramir)
By Nieriel Raina
Year 3020 Third Age
Faramir brushed back a drapery and glanced out the window. He watched his wife's gold hair trail behind her as she walked down the path to the gardens. He smiled. How different his life had turned out from what he imagined it would be. Never had he considered he might be married to such a courageous woman as Eowyn of Rohan.
Eowyn stooped to stroke the head and ears of a wolfhound before continuing on her way, the hound at her heels. His rustic wife was far from ordinary. How many could claim to have killed a Nazgul, let alone the Witchking himself?
But it was not because of her bravery in battle that he loved her. Her spirit captivated him. The most courageous thing he thought she had done was to leave her people and marry him, the quiet, unexpected Steward of Gondor.
He had been surprised when Aragorn kept him in place as Steward, but he enjoyed the task. He loved Ithilien and knew the land well. For many years this land had been as a mistress to him: calming him and cradling him in her soothing embrace.
Eowyn stopped at a gate and looked knowingly over her shoulder towards the window where he stood. She smiled. Her hair caught in the breeze and streamed over her shoulders even as her skirts were swept back, revealing her trim form, and making Faramir's heart skip a beat. How lovely she was! While Ithilien had soothed and comforted him, his wife lit a fire within him, making him burn in ways he had never imagined possible.
Letting the drapery fall back into place, Faramir hurried to the door and down the path to join his wife. Catching her up in his arms, he kissed her, not caring who saw them. He would never tire of kissing her perfect lips or caressing her creamy skin. Hand in hand, they strolled about the garden, until unable to contain his passion, he tumbled his wife under an apple tree far from sight of the path.
The proper ladies of Gondor would have been appalled. His horse-lady just laughed and pulled him closer, trailing her hands down his shoulders and back before reaching between them to undo his belt.
No, it was not the life he had thought to live, but he would not trade it for anything.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.