Disclaimer: Tolkien the genius owns all, I own nowt.

Notes: This story is intended as a different take on the Eowyn/Faramir romance.  It

does not follow the development of their relationship as shown in the book!  It is quite

different, and has more than an element of 'Lady Chatterley's Lover' about it, so you

have been warned!  I was disappointed by the absence of the Eowyn/Faramir storyline

from the film, so I decided to write my own version, which is mostly concerned with

the emotional (and sexual) awakening of Eowyn from her cold state.  This begins

before she even 'meets' Faramir, as shown in this, the first chapter.  I mean no

disrespect to Tolkien by writing this story, nor do I wish to spoil for anyone the

beautiful original portrayal of this romance.  I hope that those of you who do chose to

read the story enjoy it, and please do review, whether you like it or not, and let me

know how you think it could be improved upon, etc.  I welcome ALL reviews.

This story is rated because it contains adult content, but it is BY NO MEANS graphic

or explicit, so you don't need to worry about that.

Thank you, and enjoy!

The Patient

Chapter 1: Lady Eowyn

Eowyn was restless.

She could feel the walls of her room start to close in around her.

This was not a new feeling, but it was one she thought she had left behind, when she

rode away to war.

She had been so sure of her fate - death.

A glorious, valiant death in battle.  She would have been at peace, and long

remembered for her bravery.  Instead her beloved uncle was dead, and she was once

more trapped in a gilded cage.  The houses of healing were beautiful and comfortable,

and she was well taken care of by the learned healers.  But now, though her body still

ached, her outer wounds were mostly healed and she had grown tired of lying in sloth

while she came to be fully rested.  What good would it be for her to be returned to

perfect health when it was too late to follow the captains Eastward and to war?

Eowyn did not wish to remain captive here if there was any chance that she might

catch up with the Armies of the West and her brother, and perhaps be granted her

glorious death after all.

Thoughts of her brother made the walls of the room start to blur before her eyes.  She

could see him riding forth, side by side with his good friend Aragorn.


That very name scarred her mind with its bitterness, and it swiftly brought the walls of

her room back into sharp focus.

Deciding that she had to do something, else go mad, Eowyn strode to the door of her

room and pulled it open with more force than was required.  It felt good to move

about again.  She could not go outdoors at this time of night without being seen and

fussed over, but she could perhaps creep about the house without being caught.

Exploring might help to clear her mind so that she could make a decision about what

she should do.

Eowyn could remember well enough what the downstairs parts of the Houses of

healing looked like, and it was for this reason that she chose a spiral staircase that

would take her upwards and into the unknown.  She did not know how long she

wandered the maze of passageways, pausing only when she came across windows that

looked out over the vast, inky night sky and freedom.

In time she came upon a door which had been left slightly ajar.  The warm glow of

candlelight was seeping out through the gap.  Eowyn could hear voices from inside

the room.  Her heart began to thud in her chest as she crept closer to the gap in the

doorway, intent on glimpsing whatever might be happening in there at this hour.

She could scarcely breathe for the fear of being caught as she brought her face close

enough to peer into the dimly lit room.

Eowyn soon saw that she needn't have been so concerned.  All of the people in the

room were facing away from her, and seemed absorbed in what they were doing.

There was a slender man sat on a table in front of her.  He wore no shirt or tunic, and

his back was to her.  It was clear that he was the patient.  Three healers, two women

and a man, were with him.  One of the women appeared to be applying ointment to a

wound on his front that Eowyn couldn't see.  What she could see was a freshly healed

scar that ran down the length of his narrow back.  It was raw and pink against his pale,

taut skin.  This man had been very badly hurt indeed, and in a recent battle, that much

she could tell from his posture and pallid complexion, and the way the healers were

looking at him.

Eowyn knew that she should move before someone saw her, but she was strangely

transfixed by the sight in front of her.  During her short, somewhat confined

existence, Eowyn had never simply looked upon the bare flesh of a grown man as she

did now.  His arms were muscular, and his tousled hair, dark against his skin, fell

about his tensed shoulders.  The dark coloured breeches he wore were low around his

waist.  She felt as though she couldn't tear her gaze from him.  Though she could not

see his face, Eowyn fancied she could feel the warmth that was emanating from his

body from where she stood, across the room.

She took a deep breath and moved away from the door suddenly, for she was afraid

that she might give herself away.

Her heart continued to thud, even as she made her way down several sets of stairs and

gradually found the way back to her room.  Her mind was now preoccupied with the

image of that pale, naked torso, and though even in the privacy of her own room she

blushed to think of it, she could not rid herself of the thought.