The food continued to come, course after course, washed down with ale or wine. The hobbits and Gimli showed no sign of slowing down, even as Keren was starting to wish for some fresh air as she felt so full she would burst.
"Where do you put it all, Pippin?" she asked, as he tried to hide a burp. He shrugged his shoulders.
Merry had told her that feasting in Rohan was notorious, and they would likely be up all night if they so wished, but the people were not known for their dances. No space had been cleared.
"But it doesn't matter," Pippin said. "Last time we just danced on the tables."
Merry nodded his head cheerily in agreement.
"Well I shall not be doing that," Keren said firmly. "Not even if I drink a whole barrel of ale."
Pippin was about to disagree, when he was interrupted by a rolling of drums and a blast of horns. All turned to the dais.
Éowyn came forward, an ornately carved goblet in her hands. She spoke in her low, clear voice.
"Now we drink to the memory of old Kings, and to the golden future of the new."
She passed the cup solemnly to her brother, and both stood still and silent as chords from a harp rang out, and a voice sang of all the Lords of the Mark, from the very founding of the line through to Éomer, who drank from the cup at the sound of Théoden's name.
"Let all our cups be filled," Éowyn cried, and servants sprang forward from the doorways with wine. She turned to kneel before her brother. "Hail, Éomer, King of the Mark!"
Keren raised her voice with all the others in the hall, and drank. "Hail, Éomer, King of the Mark!"
All eyes were on the new King of Rohan as he stepped forward.
"Now," Éomer's voice rang out, "this is the funeral feast of Théoden the King; but I will speak ere we go of tidings of joy, for he would not grudge that I should do so, since he was ever a father to Éowyn my sister. Hear then all my guests, fair folk of many realms, such as have never before been gathered in this hall! Faramir, Steward of Gondor, and Prince of Ithilien..."
No, no, no, please, no, was all that Keren could think as Faramir stepped forward. She should have seen this coming. She wished she could sit down – or better, run.
"...asks that Éowyn Lady of Rohan should be his wife, and she grants it full willing. Therefore they shall be trothplighted before you all."
Faramir took Éowyn's hands in his own, and together they stood before everyone in the hall. The King raised his cup in a toast.
"Thus is the friendship of the Mark and of Gondor bound with a new bond, and the more do I rejoice."
All raised their cups to their lips and drank to the happy couple. Keren mechanically followed suit. For the tiniest moment Faramir's eyes met hers. The look was not furtive, nor arrogant, nor cruel. There was no surprise, for unbeknownst to her he had seen her earlier in the evening. It was perhaps an apology, though he gave no outward sign that it was anything more than a passing glance. And something else was there too, which Keren took a little longer to process – embarrassment, and regret.
She looked down at the table, a stupid, bland smile on her face so as not to draw attention to herself. She felt a gentle, supportive hand at her back, and looked at Pippin on her left, but he was standing applauding and cheering with the rest. Of course he did not know a thing of what had happened.
But the person on her right did. He did not know all, but he knew enough. She turned to Legolas with a thank you in her eyes. He held her gaze a moment, then removed his hand from the small of her back.

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A Face in the Crowd: Faramir
FanfictionCOMPLETE! Book one in the 'A Face in the Crowd' trilogy, a LOTR fanfic. In the final days of the War of the Ring, meet Keren, a healer of Minas Tirith. She has never seen the sea, or the forests, or met a hobbit, or an elf. Her humble life means the...