It takes her aback, the steely, hard expression on Faramir's face-- Èowyn has never seen him display anger or even annoyance. He is so kind and gentle that to see him like this... it makes her feel a little conflicted. And yet, some primal part of her thrills at glimpsing this side of him, the warrior that hides within.
"I am. Unsatisfied by it," she says quietly after a long moment, slowly, an edge to her tone that speaks of dawning realization. "I had not understood how much until now, for there were more pressing concerns at the time. So much happened all at once..." She sighs. "Being merciful is noble and what we should strive for, and yet it feels like another instance where my wishes did not matter. Not that Lord Aragorn could have known them, or what I had endured when he interfered."
But still. Thinking of Aragorn now drives a keen flare of embarrassment and discomfort through her, recalling what happened next; awkward it feels too, the thought of telling about it to Faramir.
"Gríma slunked back to hide behind his wizard's skirts the moment he could. I was told that after the sack of Isengard, uncle tried to appeal to him one last time, to abandon Saruman. I confess the thought stings, that he would still attempt to reason with the Worm instead of writing him off like the wretch he was, after all he had done so willfully. Asylum? To him? Not ever!" Anger now flickers across her own expression, her temper hissing at her at the mere thought. No asylum and no mercy would Wormtongue ever receive from Èowyn of Rohan!
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2018-10-06 01:41 pm (UTC)"I am. Unsatisfied by it," she says quietly after a long moment, slowly, an edge to her tone that speaks of dawning realization. "I had not understood how much until now, for there were more pressing concerns at the time. So much happened all at once..." She sighs. "Being merciful is noble and what we should strive for, and yet it feels like another instance where my wishes did not matter. Not that Lord Aragorn could have known them, or what I had endured when he interfered."
But still. Thinking of Aragorn now drives a keen flare of embarrassment and discomfort through her, recalling what happened next; awkward it feels too, the thought of telling about it to Faramir.
"Gríma slunked back to hide behind his wizard's skirts the moment he could. I was told that after the sack of Isengard, uncle tried to appeal to him one last time, to abandon Saruman. I confess the thought stings, that he would still attempt to reason with the Worm instead of writing him off like the wretch he was, after all he had done so willfully. Asylum? To him? Not ever!" Anger now flickers across her own expression, her temper hissing at her at the mere thought. No asylum and no mercy would Wormtongue ever receive from Èowyn of Rohan!