“It is a wilderness!” Éowyn regarded the tangled thorns and thistles in dismay.
“We can make a garden here,” said Faramir. “And a farm. The land has great potential to yield a bountiful harvest.”
A year later, Éowyn, together with the whole household stood in the same place. The land was now cleared and the ploughman stood ready with his team.
“May Yavanna bless us with her fruits!” cried Faramir. He poured out wine upon the earth as libation.
The lead horse snorted, impatient to begin.
Faramir walked beside the horses as the plough cut furrows into the rich earth.