Disclaimer: Nothing in this chapter is mine.

It's done!! It's over!! The fic is DONE!! COMPLETED!! celebrates madly

Sorry for not posting this earlier. :)

Oh yes. I am giddy. Couldn't you tell?

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Chapter Nine: Mirth and Celebration

Faramir sat beside Eowyn at the head table, thinking quietly to himself, as the men around him laughed merrily. Eomer had ordered a feast not only to celebrate their safe return, but also to commemorate the completion of restoration work in the Westfold. As he had commented at the time, 'We are long overdue.' Looking around, Faramir could definitely agree with him. As he cast his mind back, he couldn't think of a feast he had enjoyed half as much in a long time. [Perhaps,] he thought to himself, as he glanced over his right shoulder at Eowyn, [perhaps the company is better than normal.]

Eomer's hearty laugh broke through his thoughts, as it so often did. He smiled, as Eomer made some joke about him and Eowyn in a good-natured way, then looked with foreboding at what Eomer held in his hands.

"Well, Faramir, what do you say to honouring us with a song or two? You did promise to play for me sometime." Eomer waved a gittern at him with a knowing grin.

Flustered, Faramir tried to think of a way out of it. "I'd rather wait…"

"Please, Faramir? I never knew you could play an instrument." One look at Eowyn, and he knew he couldn't refuse her.

With a sigh, he pushed his chair back, away from the table, and took the gittern into his own hands. Immediately, the occupants of the Hall turned to cheer him on, and as he stood up, Eomer directed him to a small stool in the middle of the Hall. "But there's so many people…" he said, staring at the crowd of men, women, and children, who were all facing him, waiting for him to begin.

"Oh, don't mind them. You're among friends," Eomer encouraged him gently. Then he raised his voice loudly. "The Lord Faramir will honour us with a Gondorian song, if you will have him." A simultaneous 'aye' rose from the crowd, followed by a burst of applause, as he took his place on the stool. From the corner of his eye he saw Eowyn approach, gleaming brightly in the torchlight and dressed in green, and he knew what he would sing.

Sae flaxen were her ringlets,
Her eyebrows of a darker hue,
Bewitchingly o'er-arching
Twa laughing een o' bonie blue.
Her smiling, sae wyling,
Wad make a wretch forget his woe!
What pleasure, what treasure,
Unto those rosy lips to grow!
Such was my Chloris' bonie face,
When first that bonie face I saw.
And ay my Chloris' dearest charm -
She says she lo'es me best of a'!

Let others love the city,
And gaudy show at sunny noon!
Gie me the lonely valley,
The dewy eve, and rising moon,
Fair beaming, and streaming
Her silver light the boughs amang,
While falling, recalling,
The amorous thrush concludes his sang!
There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove
By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
And hear my vows o' truth and love,
And say thou lo'es me best of a'?

He glanced back at Eowyn, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of happiness. And he knew what her answer would be.

Well? What think ye? I have NOOOO clue what I'm doing next, but hey! I'm DONE!! celebrates

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BTW – the song is verses 1 and 3 of "Sae Flaxen Were Her Ringlets" by Robert Burns. Sappiness!!

Hope you liked it!! Thanks to all my reviewers, who are all awesome!!