We're going to pretend we never saw that. All of us, okay? That didn't happen.
So my sister came over to do some artsy-craftsy stuff on Monday, and while she was testing out her ink stamps, the doorbell rang and since I was upstairs, she went to get it. "You have an empty box," she says. Well, she's joking, but it's this gigantic box that's almost featherweight because whatever's inside it is much smaller and lighter than you would expect and I think I'm rambling because I haven't had my Drixoral yet, but the point is, I open the box and it's from an Amazon third-party seller because one of y'all (thank you so much, byshinyobjects!) has sent me a Faramir.
He comes with a sword and a cloak and two sets of hands and A BIG-ASS LONGBOW. He is AWESOME. (Although I'll be damned if I can figure out how to get that sword into his sword-gripping fist. I'll take my own pictures tomorrow, but here's the official ones I grabbed from the Sideshow Toy site until then.) Also, he has very good manners, as he immediately presented his sword and bowed his head.
"I was sent to comfort a fair and valiant lady beset by sorrow?"
"Oh, honey, you have no idea."
So I sit him down for a debriefing ("which will be nothing compared to the one the valiant lady gives you, let me tell you"), and I really didn't mean to, but I'm pretty sure I scared him a little. I mean, not even just about Eowyn--he's going into unknown territory to meet two future kings of Gondor, two Elven princesses, a vampire-hunting gypsy, a cross-dressing pirate queen, and a very small polar bear, among others.
So, you know... with watching the inauguration, and all... I decided I didn't want to deal with it. I mean, God knows how Anna would take it--although, 1) he's got a sword and a bow, which should get him in her good graces to start with, and 2) he's not a sparklepire, so he's got that going for him. But... you know. It would be a big day for Eowyn, Anna's volatile, the shelf's more crowded than ever... I just didn't want to deal with it right then, and I don't think Faramir did either. So I let him camp out in his box downstairs in the kitchen for the night (also, I brought him some pie). He did fine--he's used to roughing it, of course--although I think I heard a tiny mutter of "Boromir wouldn't be scared" at some point.
So, okay. Today. Nothing blows up. That's cool. (I mean, obscenely vast understatement, but you see what I'm getting at.) After dinner, I poke my head through the door and watch everyone on The Shelf do their thing for a while (the two Aragorns are smoking pipes while the Arwens braid each other's hair, Anna and Elizabeth are polishing their boots, Galadriel's reading Lyra a bedtime story), and I don't really know what to say, and then Purple Arwen catches me watching and she knows something's up. She always knows when something's up.
"What are you up to now?"
"What is she up to?"
"I don't know, but I didn't hear her scream. It can't be an Edward."
All I can think to say is, "Can you guys be cool?"
Of course that totally gives the game away.
And what happens next, it's all so fast--the Aragorns exchange wary looks, the girls scramble to their feet, Galadriel waves a hand and Lyra just falls over where she's sitting--
"What? She doesn't need to be awake for this and you know it."
--and Anna and Purple Arwen drag Eowyn away from New Moon and shove her forward. Eowyn's still mentally half in the book--you know, that sleepy-startled look when you're pulled away from reading--and she's not sure what's going on, except that suddenly everyone is looking at her. Like, looking at her.
I nod in a very tiny, pointed way in Galadriel's general direction. Galadriel glides forward: "Welcome, noble prince. I am Galadriel, the Lady of Lórien, Queen of Laurelindórenan, daughter of the House of Finarfin." Aw, hell, y'all, she's bringing out the big titles. I don't even know what some of that shit is. "You are welcome on our Shelf, Faramir, son of Denethor."
Eowyn stops dead. You can actually see the moment where she realizes what's happening and who she's looking at hit the whites of her eyes.
"What's going on?"
"She needs it bad and he's gonna give it to her."
"Oh, man, have I been there."
"And this," says Galadriel, gently pushing her forward, "is Eowyn. She's been waiting."
Faramir gives her a very low, courtly bow.
I don't know what sets Eowyn off, exactly--all he does is reach out to take her hand, but you can just see her shrink away from him. You know how cats draw themselves back without actually going anywhere? It's kind of like that. It's a very... bristly kind of movement.
"I am also a daughter of kings," she says, her chin high, and I can see Purple Arwen facepalming behind her. "I am Éowyn, daughter of Éomund," (oh Lord, y'all, she's got the accents out) "sister-daughter of Théoden King--"
"His niece, not like his actual sister-daughter--"
"Oh, thank God, this shit was getting weird."
"--Lady of Rohan, conqueror of Pelennor, a shieldmaiden of the battlefield, and I wait for no man."
Fair and strong is her face, her hair a river of gold; she is stern as steel, she is a morning of pale cold spring, she is... walking away? She's walking away? SHE WENT BACK TO READING NEW MOON? WHAT THE HELL?
Faramir's standing there staring at me and I'm staring at him and everyone's staring at everyone else and none of us have any idea what the hell just happened.
"I think... her dignity intervened."
"Well... shit. Didn't see that coming."
So... that could have gone better.
Needless to say, more as this develops.
(More from the Secret Life of Dolls.)