"But who then will keep Merry in line?" Eowyn laughs fondly, busying herself with removing Windfola's bit and bridle so he can graze more comfortably. He is even less likely to wander off than usual, given the woodlands around them.
Once their horses are comfortable they may attend to themselves, and spread out a thick blanket and enjoy their repast while sitting on it. The cook has more than outdone herself, despite the short notice, and the abundance of breads, cheeses, cold meats, and other victuals is far too much for the two of them to manage.
There is no need for haste. The weather is fine, if cool, and the stream nearby provides fresh water as well as a babbling undercurrent of sound to their own quiet conversation. Eowyn, generous with her overabundance of food, tosses nuts and bits of bread for any squirrels or birds who venture nearby. Windfola, not to be outdone by woodland creatures, demands and eventually receives a small piece of cheese for himself and then contents himself with grazing alongside Mithlun.
An hour of time finds Eowyn still sitting on the blanket, with Faramir lying stretched upon it, his head resting on her lap. She strokes his hair with idle pleasure, looking around at trees. "Your land is a most beautiful one, Prince of Ithilien." She smiles down at him, for he does not look very princely just at the moment, his hair a wild tangle in her lap and his body sprawled comfortably, and just a touch of strawberry jam at the corner of his mouth. She laughs and leaves off brushing his hair to attend to that. "And, it seems, a bountiful one."
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timeasmymeasure
gonna timeskip because writing people eating is boring. LMK if edits needed. =)
Date: 2018-09-11 09:58 pm (UTC)Once their horses are comfortable they may attend to themselves, and spread out a thick blanket and enjoy their repast while sitting on it. The cook has more than outdone herself, despite the short notice, and the abundance of breads, cheeses, cold meats, and other victuals is far too much for the two of them to manage.
There is no need for haste. The weather is fine, if cool, and the stream nearby provides fresh water as well as a babbling undercurrent of sound to their own quiet conversation. Eowyn, generous with her overabundance of food, tosses nuts and bits of bread for any squirrels or birds who venture nearby. Windfola, not to be outdone by woodland creatures, demands and eventually receives a small piece of cheese for himself and then contents himself with grazing alongside Mithlun.
An hour of time finds Eowyn still sitting on the blanket, with Faramir lying stretched upon it, his head resting on her lap. She strokes his hair with idle pleasure, looking around at trees. "Your land is a most beautiful one, Prince of Ithilien." She smiles down at him, for he does not look very princely just at the moment, his hair a wild tangle in her lap and his body sprawled comfortably, and just a touch of strawberry jam at the corner of his mouth. She laughs and leaves off brushing his hair to attend to that. "And, it seems, a bountiful one."