WHITE YULE FOR THE WHITE LADY

Rating: G

Pairing: Éowyn/Faramir

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings and all its characters are the works of the genius Professor J.R.R Tolkien.

Summary: Éowyn dreams of snow. Drabble.

Dedication: For Kaellana who requested a É/F drabble in my livejournal.

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Sleep slowly eluded the Lady of Ithilien, and she stirred in the warm embrace of her still sleeping husband, fluttering her eyes open. This time, her dreams had been of Rohan, the country of her birth; the rolling plains and lofty mountains, the silvery strait of Snowbourne… though her beloved home was now the fair, green land of Ithilien, Rohan would never leave her heart while it still kept beating. More precisely, she’d dreamt of the past Yule’s and the white snow that covered the vast plains under its soft cloak each winter. The approaching Yule would be the first one without snow for Éowyn, for Ithilien was too far into the south. It would be odd, for sure, but she would get used to it eventually. All that mattered was the presence of her loved ones.

Rising carefully so not to disturb Faramir’s slumber, Éowyn allowed herself a moment to gaze upon the beauty of her sleeping husband, marvelling yet again how this genteel, learned Captain of Gondor could have seen hope and warmth in the cold, desperate shieldmaiden of the north. Éowyn smiled to herself. She thanked Bema every day that he had. Gently, she reached out a pale hand and brushed a wisp of ginger hair from his forehead, afore sliding out of the bed, reaching for the blue mantle that Faramir had once draped about her shoulders on the wall of the Houses of Healing. Even though Ithilien got no snow, it was still chilly in the winter mornings.

Breathing a soft gasp of surprise, Éowyn stared at the window of the bedchamber, questioning for a moment if she saw correctly. Slowly, she walked by the window, a wide smile spreading on her lips as she touched her fingertips to the glass; the bottom of the pane was sprinkled with beautiful frost flowers that melted under the warmth of her skin, leaving the tip wet. But even that paled in comparison of what she saw when she lifted her gaze up as looked through the frosty window. Thrilled, Éowyn pressed her damp fingers over her lips, a quiet laugh of delight escaping them.

Snow.

There was snow on the ground, even if only a very thin layer. The substance sparkled lightly in the brightness of the morning sun, sprinkling the verdant green bushes and lush branches of the trees with white.

“Éowyn?”

Faramir, having been awoken by the absence of his lady, gazed quizzically at Éowyn from their bed, wondering what had caused such joy in his beautiful wife. Éowyn turned her head and gave him a beaming smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Faramir, come see! It has snowed outside!”

“In Ithilien?” Faramir wondered aloud, pushing aside the covers and joining Éowyn by the window, wrapping his arms around her as he breathed in wonderment at the sight. “I have never seen snow before today,” he finally remarked softly.

Tilting her head to the side, Éowyn questioned, “Never?”

“Never,” Faramir confirmed with a smile. Bending his head slightly, he brushed his lips against Éowyn’s temple, bringing a fond smile to his wife’s lips as she recalled how similar the first kiss he had ever given her had been.

“Then I am happy that this has now been remedied, my lord,” Éowyn replied warmly, folding her own hands over Faramir’s that rested on her belly. “Even if there is only a little.”

For a moment, they stood still and silent, revelling in the warmth of their embrace and the beauty of the snow-covered ground.

“It appears this land welcomes you anew, beloved,” Faramir murmured against her golden hair. “A white Yule for the White Lady.”

Turning around in his arms, Éowyn smiled softly at him as she placed her palm against the side of his face, her eyes shining as she whispered the words she rarely spoke aloud but felt more keenly than any, “I love you, Faramir.”

Unnoticed by the gently kissing couple, large flakes of snow began to slowly drift down from the skies.

THE END