“Come in, Frodo,” said Éowyn, turning from where she stood by the window.
Frodo bowed deeply. “At your service, Lady.”
“I cannot imagine any service left for you to perform,” Éowyn said with a smile, motioning for him to join her. She pulled two chairs next to each other and they both sat down. “It is we who are in your debt.”
“There is no debt between us,” said Frodo. “You killed………. you killed that…….” He swallowed hard.
“Merry told me about it,” said Éowyn softly. “The Lord of the Nazgûl wounded you grievously, and had continued to hunt you.” She took Frodo’s hands. “He is gone, Frodo. But if not for your cousin Merry things might have gone less well.”
Frodo drew her hands to his lips and kissed them. “Thank you, Lady.”
“And I thank you, Frodo. Please just call me Éowyn.” She smiled at him. “Is Frodo really your name?”
“Yes, La---- Éowyn. Frodo. Frodo Baggins.” Frodo saw her confused look. “Is something wrong?”
“Forgive me,” said Éowyn. “After learning that Merry is actually Meriadoc and Pippin is also Peregrin, I just assumed……….. We know very little about Pheriannath, Frodo. I assumed that you would have another name as well.”
“That is understandable,” said Frodo. “Merry and Pippin are of the most important families in the Shire. Although I am related to them both, my family is rather a minor one.” He smiled. “A fairly disreputable one, at that!”
Éowyn laughed merrily. “We should get on well, then! I fear I have been the cause of much talk and embarrassment to my own family over the years!”
“Perhaps you are both more than what you seem,” said a soft voice from the door. Frodo and Éowyn looked up to see Faramir standing there, smiling at them. “Here I assumed you were trading stories of battle and courageous acts, while all along you are trying to outdo each other in poor reputation!”
Faramir entered the room and pulled over another chair. He sat down, winking at Frodo. “What do you think of her, Frodo?”
Éowyn blushed. “Lord Faramir……..”
“I have met no other maidens of the race of Men, Faramir,” said Frodo matter-of-factly. “However, I cannot imagine there are others as lovely.” He plucked an apple from a nearby bowl and crunched into it. “Or as brave.” He grinned. “What do *you* think of her?”
“Now really,” said Éowyn, undecided whether to be angry or amused. “You speak of me as if I was not here in front of you. That is hardly chivalrous.”
Faramir ignored her. “That is the trouble, Frodo,” he sighed. “All I do is think of her. I am unable to think of anything else.” He took Éowyn’s hand. “Unlike you two rascals, I am of a very fine family,” he continued. “I will have to teach her how to behave.”
“And I will have to teach you manners,” said Éowyn tartly. She tried to pull her hand back but Faramir would not let it go.
“And gentleness,” he murmured.
Éowyn reached up and caressed his cheek with her free hand. “And love,” she whispered.
“I see your dilemma, Faramir,” said Frodo. “How can you concentrate on anything else?”
“What about food?” asked Pippin, suddenly appearing in the doorway. “Can she cook?”
“No, Peregrin,” Éowyn sighed.
Faramir continued to gaze into her eyes. “In all of Minas Tirith’s long history there have been no Halflings in the city.” He chuckled. “Now suddenly they are everywhere.”
Frodo laughed and got up. “Come, Pippin, I think Gandalf is calling us.”
Pippin frowned as Frodo pushed him out of the room. “No he isn’t.”
“Yes he is.”
“But----” Frodo simply turned Pippin back around so he could see Faramir and Éowyn, deep in a passionate kiss. “Oh.” Frodo started to lead Pippin away.
“No, Frodo, the stairs are *that* way. Come on, you’re bound to get lost unless I’m with you. However did you find that fire mountain without me, anyway?”
“I can’t imagine. Hey, get your own apple.”
The hobbits’ voices grew fainter as they disappeared down the corridor. “You know, Frodo, you may have started out as just another disreputable Baggins, but you’ve come a long way.”
“So have you, Pip. So have you.”
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.