faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

"As am I!" He says fervently, and grins, pleased to have made her laugh.

"It cannot be helped, and it will flatter them greatly, which will make things easier all around!"

"I am sure she will greatly enjoy it - you know she looks up to you! It will please her to be able to demonstrate her skill, I am sure."

He laughs. "I suppose I should try and endeavour to encourage you to behave, at this point, but I do rather wish the same myself!"

She blushes just a little to hear her sister-in-law looks up to her, for it is a strange thought, just as it is still a strange thought to know she has a sister at all. Though she could not ask for a better than Lothiriel, whose easily delighted and slightly impudent nature charms her.

Though not as much as it charmed her brother, who adores his young wife. It is good to be able to tease him as much for doting as he once did her, when she and Faramir were first courting. She could not see him more happily wed, and that is always a great joy to her, for Eomer is dear to her above all people save only her own husband, and even then it is a near thing. That his wife is Faramir's own cousin is the cream of the jest.

She laughs again, marvelling at her own contentment. "Perhaps we might tempt you to try it?" she teases. "You are trained in stealth! Surely you could slip away with us for a night and walk unknown in the crowds."

In actuality it is she who would have the most difficulty being anonymous in Gondor, given her long, bright hair. She may need to hide it under a cap, as she did as Dernhelm...and would that not shock Gondor, if she wandered around Minas Tirith disguised as a boy? But Lothiriel would think it a grand scheme.

Faramir chuckles, shaking his head.

"Walk unmarked? Aye, I probably could. Fire-juggling? That, I will leave to the experts! But you would have to hide that lovely hair of yours, my wife, if you plan to pass unnoticed!"

Lothiriel is slight and flexible, and passes easily as someone much younger - or a boy, in fact, when she wishes to, although no longer as easily as she has grown and developed. But she's also been fire juggling since before the war, and knows it well.

She reaches up to brush her hair away from her face. She still prefers to wear it long and loose, rather than binding it up always as a Gondorian lady would, though she will certainly tie it out of her way when needed, and can arrange it as skillfully as any. The fact that Faramir loves to stroke her hair is but an extra inducement.

"I have bound it up before, and walked dressed as man with none knowing," she points out, then laughs ruefully. "But disguise my hair as I may, there will be no disguising the babe I carry by that point, so I must abandon that option. A shame; I would have enjoyed that, a little. Though I too will be content to leave the fire juggling to your expert cousin, and merely applaud her skill."

"That much is true." Faramir smiles and does reach out to do exactly that.

"I suppose we could put you in a cloak, but that would only tell everyone that you were trying to hide! But I think we can certainly enjoy the performace."

She turns in her seat, so she can lean her head against his chest instead of his shoulder, giving him freer rein to play with her hair. If she were a cat, she would purr. "Mm. Not a cloak. A head-scarf of some sort might suffice, if we darkened my eyebrows, or if it were after nightfall." Which it would need to be, most likely, for the fire juggling to be viewed at its best. "At least promise we shall view it. I swear I will not give your cousin's game away, not for all the world, if she should take part again this year."

Her hand rests idly on her belly, as it has for most of the day, as though she might feel the child growing within. She is not even aware of the new habit.

He runs gentle fingers through it, carefully working through the knots.

"That much I can do! It is a rather spectacular, if dangerous, an exhibition."

He smiles to see her hand rest there, and thinks that she will do much better than she fears.

"And I hardly need to ask her - she enjoys the thrill, I think."

"It is not a skill we would practice much in Rohan," Eowyn says, somewhat distractedly. The touch of his hand on her hair is most soothing. "We must be more careful with fire, for things are dry and burn easily, and a wildfire on the plains is a disaster when it occurs. But in the Stone City, or on the sands of Dol Amroth, I can see how it would appeal. Alas that I cannot take part in some game myself, but I doubt trick riding is a sport much seen on the streets of Minas Tirith. And besides, it would not be fair."

There is that slight edge of pride at the last, for there are no horseriders like the Rohirrim, and all know it.

"You would be too good for them."

He laughs softly in agreement.

"Unless some of the Rohirrim would agree to a competition, perhaps. We could always ask? But the fire juggling came to us from the merchantships, and is most popular in the coastal fiefs."

"No, no. I was merely musing on the thought." Her voice sounds more dreamy now, and the hand resting on her abdomen idly strokes in place. She would be several months with child by that point, and knows better than to take risks on horseback in such a condition, even if she's never been in such a condition before.

Her thoughts are a little muddled; the truth is that she's tired, and Faramir's gentle ministrations to her hair are starting to make her a little sleepy. But she has no desire to move, not just yet. It was a long, unrestful day of fretting herself in circles with amazement, and this is much more pleasant. "What other games are there, aside from fire juggling and staff fighting? Have you never thought to enter any?"

He smiles down at her fondly, loving how relaxed she is in his arms.

"Oh, the usual. Archery, for me, and swordsmanship also, although Boromir and I had an agreement never to enter at the same time. Tests of strength, and agility. There is a horse race, although nothing so great as the Rohirrim must have, I imagine."

"Mm. I should like to see that. It is hard to imagine someone outshooting you." Relaxation is not a state that comes naturally to Éowyn. Except for times like these. "We have many races, yes, both short sprints and longer ones for stamina. And some astonishing Riders, who can do acrobatics on horseback. Perhaps some of my countrymen could be persuaded to demonstrate."

"Legolas does so all the time!" Faramir laughs softly. "But if you mean amongst my people, then I do declare that I am the current reigning champion, yes."

He strokes her hair and delights in how easily she relaxes. "I do hope they can be - it would be good, I think, to see and learn new skills from out allies."

She smiles findly at this mention of their mutual friend. "Legolas doesn't count. He's had hundreds of years to practice." Her eyes are closed now, the better to appreciate the soft feel of his fingers trailing through her hair, and she snuggles into his chest a little more. "I'll suggest it to my brother, if I remember. Remind me, next time I write him? It is a good idea."

"I will." Faramir smiles down at her, still stroking gently through her hair.

"It would be good for all of us, I think. A reminder of the ties between our people." He keeps his voice low and soothing. "It will put a little spring back into Gondor's guardsmen too, I should think, to learn new skills that they might challenge their friends and allies properly."

"Mm." Her voice is low, for she is half-asleep, lulled by the warmth of his chest under her cheek and the tender touch of his hand. "My people like to show off. They would enjoy it."

"Then we shall surely do so." He murmurs softly, smiling to see her drifting off. Once she is asleep he carries her back to their bed and lays her down, climbing in next to her, marvelling at the miracle in his arms.

"Ah Eowyn." He kisses her forehead softly. "How blessed I am!"

He is careful enough that she does not wake, or perhaps she is simply worn out by the day that she sleeps deeply enough to not be stirred from it. In sleep her face is softened and open, not childlike but quieted. Awake, her emotions ever flit across her face, her expressions echoing her quick thoughts. Stillness is only her natural state when she is at rest.

She sleeps long and well, past her usual hour of waking despite having fallen asleep so early, and wakes fuzzy-headed. Her stomach is, again, somewhat turbulent--but this time she smiles to herself, remembering the reason.

There is still a warm weight on the bed next to her, the sound of steady breathing. Without opening her eyes she turns towards it, fits herself against the long length of her husband. As she does so she realizes that while her laces have been loosened, she is still in the dress she wore yesterday, and at that she chuckles a little. Sighing a little, she places a kiss on Faramir's shoulder, the part of him nearest her mouth. She is lucky to have such a husband, and well knows it.

He watches her for a time, basking in the glow of shared happiness before he drifts off himself, and does not stir until the morning.

"Good morning." He answers her kiss with a sleepy mumble, yawning as he bestirs himself, leaning over for a half-asleep kiss.

She makes a wordless pleased noise as he kisses her, still half-asleep herself. She has not felt so well rested for many days, and while most of the time she rises early and quickly, today she feels more languid.

So instead she reaches for him, keeps an arm around his back to pull him close even after the kiss drifts to a conclusion. After several sleepy minutes, she murmurs, "I think we are rather late, this morning. I wonder that no one has come to rouse us, though I confess I am glad of it."

For this is a rare treat, to lie warm and quiet next to Faramir and feel unhurried.

He nuzzles against her fondly, half-dozing in the morning light.

"Mm." He mumbles against her neck, waking up enough to smile at her sleepily.

"Perhaps they had thought to allow us a slight break - we have been working hard, of late."

"We always are." It is not a complaint. His hair is tousled and messy, and she combs it with her fingers. "Perhaps we might take the morning off. Part of it."

He leans happily into her fingers.

"Well. If no one has come to call us, I assume this means there is nothing pressing. Perhaps we could simply lay here until someone does?"

He reaches for her hand and begins to kiss her fingers, one at a time.

"I am not minded to move." Her breath catches at the gentle touch of his lips on her calloused fingertips, and she watches as though hypnotised as he moves from one to another. "Particularly not while you are so attentive."

He smiles and kisses her palms.

"Well, I am not minded to leave bed just yet..."

He offers suggestively.

=D

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Get him talking for a few minutes and she'll fall asleep on him.

he's so pleased by this thought

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