Sparring of Swords
Chapter 5 – The Surrender
by Siberia

They lose control of their hormones again! And no chaperone, on top of that. Tsk, tsk, tsk! ;-p

The White Lady bared her teeth at her opponent, and she groaned loudly in irritation. She resented being at the mercy of someone's blade tip. Her voice roared with defiance. "I will have my revenge at our next sparring match. Just you wait! I will not be defeated so easily. I will find away to even the score!"

Faramir smiled warmly. "I have not no doubt, my Lady. You nearly murdered me on several occasions! Has anyone told you how bloodthirsty you look when you fight? No wonder Éomer and Théodred can hardly match you in battle. Your ferocity alone probably scared them out of his wits!"

Despite her fury at being defeated, Éowyn could not help but chuckle at his statement. She graciously accepted it as a compliment. "Why thank you, my Lord."

The Steward disposed of his weapon and offered his hand to his future wife. Éowyn raised her arm, pretending to accept his palm, when she quickly moved her foot beneath his and tripped him. The Steward fell flat on his back, and was briefly stunned by the sudden impact. She swiftly took advantage of his moment of weakness, raising herself up onto him. She straddled his body in between her legs to pin him onto the floor. As a gesture of both affection with frustration, the maiden smacked Faramir hard against his chest.

"Ow!" he yelped. "That really hurt, you know. You say that you are no longer a Shield-maiden, but you obviously still retained her savage nature!"

Faramir tried to lift himself up from the floor, but his betrothed abruptly pushed him down again with the force of her arms.

"I told you I would get even, one way or another!" Éowyn shouted proudly. "You are staying on the ground until I feel like letting you go."

"You cut my hand! Please, I have to go stitch it."

"No, you cannot escape so easily from me!"

The Captain gazed up at his betrothed, his annoyance clearly spread out across his features. "I won our joust fair and square! Do not be such a sore loser."

"Loser?!" the Lady of Rohan cried. She slapped him violently once again.

As his future wife continued to stare down at him, Faramir discerned that something had changed abruptly in her demeanor. Éowyn seemed to be watching him closely, her grey eyes examining his face with great scrutiny. He did not need his Númenorian insight to tell him that she was lustfully appraising him. The young man suspected that the aggression from their sparring was silently fueling her excitement. Despite his own best efforts to ignore his earthly cravings, Faramir himself began to take notice of many things; her beautiful exposed flesh, her rapid breathing, her flushed cheeks, her reddened lips, how lovely she looked as her golden hair strands slipped loose from her braid, and how incredibly close her body was to his.

"Oh, why do you have to be so sweet and adorable, Man of Gondor?" she asked helplessly as her fingers traced the contours his features. "You insult me endlessly, and yet I simply do not have the means to resist you."

"You actually think I am adorable?" Faramir replied with a loving grin. "I have not heard that in a long time. I think only my mother called me that. Oh, and uncle Imrahil, too, whenever he felt like teasing me."

"And," Éowyn continued, "may I add that you are very graceful when you fight. Of all my years training as a Shield-maiden, I do not believe that I have ever seen anyone move so beautifully in combat like you do."

"Thank you, my Lady."

"And since you do not seem able to say anything nice about the Rohirrim, that is the last compliment you will ever get from me, you arrogant, obnoxious Gondorian pig!"

Faramir glimpsed at the maiden sweetly while he pouted his lips, pretending to look like a hurt, sad child. "Oh! That is very mean!" he cried.

The White Lady's heart melted to see her Lord so adorable-looking, and she lowered her mouth unto his, kissing him in a motherly fashion. Her face then hovered just above her beloved, for she wished to feel the warmth of his breath while they conversed together. Éowyn spoke with a playful voice while she caressed his face. "Well, perhaps I can offer you one final kind word, just to make you feel better. Have I ever told you what a lovely, handsome man you are?"

"No, but I did see it in your eyes this morning when you caught me more than half-naked!" the Steward exclaimed loudly.

Éowyn laughed cheerfully, recollecting the wondrous images his lissom figure. "How did you know?!" she demanded. She sighed at his uncanny ability to read her heart. "Nothing ever escapes your meticulous attention, does it?"

Raising his fingers to trace the curve of her lips, Faramir replied, "No, my love, especially when it concerns you."

"Well, at least I know what magnificent delights await for me on our wedding night!" Éowyn declared as she smiled maliciously at the thought. "I truly believed I turned around fast enough for you not to notice."

Faramir rolled his grey eyes, and spoke to her with an accusing tone. "You certainly did not! I saw how you lingered at my entrance with your mouth wide open, just staring at my body."

"I could not help it! 'Tis your fault if you had to be so… stunning," the maiden answered defensively.

"That does not change the fact that it was very rude and inconsiderate of you. But I guess I should have expected that from a Rohirrim woman raised with such unrefined manners."

The young Captain winked at her as only as he could. It possessed both a sly malice and a boyish charm. Éowyn found his gesture to be at once enticing and insufferable. Her face grew even more red than before as she pounded her beloved's chest with both her fists. "Take back that slur!"

Despite the soreness he felt, Faramir gazed defiantly into her eyes. "Never."

The Lady of Rohan abruptly grabbed him betrothed by his collar. Her grip was tight, and it seemed to choke him, for Faramir immediately began struggling for air. She was still violent from the sword fight, and he was uncertain as to how far Éowyn would carry on this prank. As much as he had enjoyed provoking her, he quickly realized he would have to stop his mischief or else risk being close to death. The young man knew of only one method to tame her hostility. Though he still feared for his self-discipline, Faramir raised his uninjured hand, burying it into her thick hair. He then swiftly pulled the maiden's soft lips unto his, surrendering his mouth completely to her.

Hungry for his passionate touch, Éowyn accepted her betrothed's offer without hesitation, and shut her eyelids. At once, her hold on him lessened, for she was no longer able to concentrate on her task. Almost immediately, her senses became inflamed; his wooded scent drove her mad with desire, and his tongue sent tingling sensations wildly throughout her body. The maiden's left hand searched frantically for Faramir's raven hair, finally entwining itself deep within its soft strands. Her other hand gripped his chest, her fingers sensuously caressing the muscles that lay beneath his garment. After several moments of being locked in this wondrous exchange, Éowyn could not longer resist her impulses and she promptly began to loosen the first few buttons of his shirt. The sensation of her bare palm against his skin made her future husband gasp.

Gently pushing her face away, Faramir swiftly broke their embrace. "Oh, my love…" the Steward managed to breathe, his concern wreaking havoc across his features.

"Shhh… do not say anything…" the White Lady whispered, moving her mouth down to capture his tender lips once again.

Faramir leaned his head sideways, the source of his future wife's pleasure sufficiently beyond of her reach. "Éowyn, please," he pleaded. "I am going to dishonour you soon if we do not halt this at once. I do not wish for that to happen."

"I love you with all my heart, Faramir," the maiden replied firmly while she passionately kissed his neck and cheek. "Nothing your body does can offend me."

The young man struggled to restrain his lust while Éowyn continued to provocatively stroke his chest. "Even so, my Lady, we really must stop. We are both lost losing control…"

"Just a bit longer," she purred. "A little more cannot possibly hurt us."

"And you think you are the only one having problems resisting," Faramir retorted, feeling completely helpless beneath the glare of Éowyn's beauty. Despite the strong objections of his mind, they were not enough to prevent his heart from muttering out loud, "Oh alright, just a little…"

Cursing at own his weakness, the Captain gave his future wife his mouth once more, which she welcomed whole-heartedly. Faramir then proceeded to shift his wounded hand over his beloved's body to grasp her waist, pulling Éowyn closer to him. He lowered his other arm from her hair and briefly held her pale face in his palm before his fingers delicately traced her neck. Before he knew it, his hand stroked gently all over her exposed flesh. His lips sought desperately for her shoulder and her upper chest, leaving a trail of fervent kisses in his wake. Éowyn's moans and sighs excited Faramir even more as her lips pressed against the surface of his chest, quickening his already rapid breathing.

The raw energy from their sparring fed profusely into the lovers' torrential passion, its intensity increasing dangerously with every touch they exchanged. Only the Valar know what might have occurred if they were not interrupted by the sudden shuffling of feet…

The suspense is going to kill you, right? ;-) Please post a review!