Faramir is silent for a long time after she speaks, his eyes now fixed not on their hands but on a place on the stone bench next to where those hands rest. His breathing stays steady and quiet, his expression unreadable, should she look. He does not look at her face.
But their hands are still clasped, and there is some comfort to be found from that, the pressure and warmth of her fingers.
"As you wish," he says finally, his voice low. He squeezes her fingers in return briefly before releasing them--releasing her--and standing. He walks a few steps forward, looking East. The stars are bright in the night sky.
He looks out for a few more minutes, then half-turns back towards her, though his gaze remains fixed upwards. "There is to be a...a ceremony, of sorts, tomorrow morning. For my investiture as Steward." An event that, she will already know, is not one he will find comfortable. To say the least. "There will not be many attending, for I have no desire for it to be a spectacle, particularly not with the king to return to his throne so soon. This is a mere formality."
And the more firmly he tells himself that, the easier it will be to stand there and accept his father's ring, and the rod that has been made to replace the one that burned. Or so Faramir hopes. He looks at her sidelong. "Even so, it would...mean much to me, if you could attend. If you will."
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timeasmymeasure
Wasn't that the plan? ;)
Date: 2018-11-25 09:51 pm (UTC)But their hands are still clasped, and there is some comfort to be found from that, the pressure and warmth of her fingers.
"As you wish," he says finally, his voice low. He squeezes her fingers in return briefly before releasing them--releasing her--and standing. He walks a few steps forward, looking East. The stars are bright in the night sky.
He looks out for a few more minutes, then half-turns back towards her, though his gaze remains fixed upwards. "There is to be a...a ceremony, of sorts, tomorrow morning. For my investiture as Steward." An event that, she will already know, is not one he will find comfortable. To say the least. "There will not be many attending, for I have no desire for it to be a spectacle, particularly not with the king to return to his throne so soon. This is a mere formality."
And the more firmly he tells himself that, the easier it will be to stand there and accept his father's ring, and the rod that has been made to replace the one that burned. Or so Faramir hopes. He looks at her sidelong. "Even so, it would...mean much to me, if you could attend. If you will."