Éowyn stepped into the garden, a small sanctuary tucked away on the sixth level of Minas Tirith. It had been neglected, overgrown with weeds and its white stone walls covered in a fine layer of ash. But here she could slip away--alone--before anyone else had wakened, to watch the sun rise over Gondor. And to think.
Faramir had asked for a betrothal last night and she'd said yes without even having to think about it. And that was precisely why she was here. She knew another's heart would be broken and she didn't know how to tell him.