She was sitting at her desk, carefully reading a reconnaissance report from the Captain of the Rangers, checking its details against a large map of Rohan and Gondor spread out on the table before her.

Her beloved Orc map, thought Faramir, glancing at the dashed and dotted lines and the esoteric notations on its surface.

Her paper child.

"Anything useful?" he asked.

"Possibly..." Eowyn turned the page. "He says that several of the farmers in the region of Parth Forod are reporting missing livestock."

"It could be wolves. Or bears, up there."

"Or it could be orcs," said Eowyn. "Especially as there has been a large band lurking here, just to the north, for several weeks. It would mean that they were moving south for the winter—and I have seen them do that before." She picked up her pen. "Will you be gone long?"

"Four, perhaps five, days."

"Remember to ask Aragorn for a copy of his new map of the Forest of Druadan. I have heard that his cartographer is very skilled." She hesitated. "Is Berengar going with you?"

Faramir bit his lip. "Yes..."

She said nothing; but her pain seemed to spread out across the room, filling Faramir's lungs and squeezing his heart. "Eowyn—"

She laid down her pen. "I must speak to Mistress Sieglinde."

"Wait..." He caught her arm.

"Faramir, I must speak to Mistress Sieglinde."

He held her fast. "You know that I would never betray you?"

"Physically," said Eowyn. "But what would that matter, now? And why should we both be miserable—all three of us?"

"I do not know what to do."

She threw up her hands, breaking his grip. "There is nothing you can do! Nothing any of us can do!" She turned back to her map.

"Suppose," Faramir began, quietly.

"Suppose what?" she asked, without looking up from her work.

"Suppose we were to have a child?"

She dropped her pen, and a large blot of ink formed on the map, unnoticed. "How? Do you expect me to sleep with one of the servants?"

"Eowyn!"

"Or perhaps seduce Aragorn next time I see him? Or Leg..." Her voice trailed away, and tears formed in her eyes. Then she added, loudly, "Or Gimli?"

"We could have a child."

"No, thank you."

"I am sorry."

"I must finish with this report. Captain Alfgar needs it back."

"Yes..."

"But there is something you can do for me, Faramir," she said, carefully erasing the ink blot with a pellet of fresh bread.

"What is that?"

"You can take my map seriously." She dipped her pen in the inkwell, and, very deliberately, turned her back on him.