faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

Eowyn murmurs her contentment, nestling under the blanket and settling alongside him more closely. She is sated and replete, cocooned in warmth and love, his arm gentle around her. If there has ever been a time she was happier than this, she cannot remember it.

That pleasant, dozing state lasts for perhaps half an hour or so, at which point her insides abruptly revolt, and without warning she is forced to lunge for the side of the bed and the chamberpot there, heaving for several minutes as her stomach attempts to turn itself inside out despite being empty.

Faramir has drifted almost entirely back to sleep by then, jolting back to awareness with a startled whoof as she accidentally elbows him in her lunge.

As soon as he realises what is happening, he reaches over to pull her hair back from her face and hold her through the spasms.

"Should I fetch some ginger tea, love?"

She is dimly grateful that he holds her hair out of the way, for the comfort of his arm around her, even as she hates the way her body revolts against her will, churning and roiling to no purpose. Even after that part is over she remains, trying to force her body to calm.

"No." She pulls herself back up, lying on her back on the bed, still breathing hard. She grimaces, wipes her hand across her mouth. "No, I should prefer water, I think. And we are long overdue for breakfast, little as I like the idea at the moment." Some food will help, she knows, but it still has no appeal. She sighs. "I think the next months will seem very long."

He strokes her hair and waits patiently for her body to settle, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder.

"Alright. Do you want me to go and stoke up the fire a little, if you are cold? Or shall I braid your hair back?"

She cannot help but give him a look, half amused and half exasperated. "My hands still work perfectly well, Faramir. I am not made an invalid merely because I am expecting a child."

And he did promise not to hover over her too much. But he means well, so she relents a little. "But it is cold. We should both dress for the day, in truth...but I would not mind if the room were a little warmer first. And I would like some water."

He relents, aware that he is again hovering, and kisses her on the cheek before nodding and moving to get up.

"I will leave you to dress then, my love, and sort out a fire in the sun room and breakfast. With water."

She accepts the kiss willingly, a little sorry that her mouth tastes too foul for intercepting and extending it further, and more sorry that their idyll has been interrupted so thoroughly. But the day calls, and they can no longer postpone answering.

And she is cold. So she cleans up as needed, dresses herself quickly and warmly, shivering. She checks in with the housekeeper to ensure they have missed nothing of import, and with that reassurance that there is nothing pressing requiring attention she makes her way to the sun room. By that time, at least she is actually hungry, and smiles happily when she sees him waiting for her as promised.

By the time Eowyn comes out, Faramir has breakfast ready, the toast and eggs as well as the kettle for the water kept warm by the fire, as he peruses the few papers that had been delivered for him to see.

He looks up and smiles as she comes in, rising to greet her with a kiss.

"I did not know what you might like." He says fondly. "But I thought perhaps the toast and eggs might sit a little easier. Cook sent up some of the last of the wild dried apples, too."

She smiles warmly both befor and after the kiss, for this is one of her favorite times of the day. They usually breakfast in here, and the room has windows enough to be bright even on overcast days. It is one of the rooms they discussed building long ago, when first they arrived at Eryn Arnen, and its promise has been more than fulfilled.

She remembers too that it was shortly after deciding on the sun room that they first discussed the possibility of children, and one hand drifts back to her abdomen, marvelling over how things have come to pass.

Once more she kisses him, then takes her seat. She eyes the eggs a little wistfully. "Toast first, and tea. Then I shall see if I may brave the eggs as well. Is there anything of interest in those?"

She nods her head towards the paper. Emergencies tend to come with a messenger, but urgent news may still arrive written, especially from the further reaches or Minas Tirith.

"Nothing much." He passes them over to her as he is done.

"Reports on the state of the orchards and this year's harvest, as well as the state of our herds - all looking good, so far. We are progressing very much to our expected goals, I think! There are some requisition lists, I will leave those for the healers and horses to you, I think? But all looks well."

He grins at her hopefully over a cup of tea.

"We could go riding today. I don't think anyone would miss us if we went out to inspect the further fields and took a picnic with us."

She gives him a look, not at all fooled by the excuse of 'inspecting the further fields'. Though going by the smile at the edge of her mouth, she is amused rather than disapproving. "You wish a holiday."

The idea has some appeal. Things are about to change, unalterably, and she is still a little shaken when she thinks of it. The way her stomach roils a little at the smell off food only drive the point home, though she still is quick to prepare some toast and begin to eat it.

"I do." He agrees shamelessly. "I think we both deserve one! And in fairness, we have not been to inspect the further fields since we got here."

"No, for they have not needed our inspection, and likely do not now," she points out, smiling. "But I am willing to let it be our excuse, for your plan does sound delightful. And I know of a copse where the bluebells should already be out."

It is nearly springtime, after all. Not quite, but near it.

"We do not know that for certain." He says with impish seriousness.

"But a copse of bluebells, a nice rug, a light meal. These things do sound very attractive!"

"They do," she agrees. "And some time with you, with nothing to distract us, sounds more attractive yet." They spend much time together, as much as they can contrive, but for much of it they are busy. There is never a shortage of things to do in Eryn Arnen, and often Faramir is called away to Minas Tirith; sometimes she goes with him and sometimes not, depending on where she is needed.

Faramir is right: they have more than earned a small holiday. And have they not something to celebrate?

She glances over the papers he's handed to her, taking note of the numbers therein and what they imply. "Mm. I have things I should attend to here first, but they should only take an hour or so, and then I may be at your disposal." She matches his impish seriousness. "So think well on how you wish to dispose of me."

"I will have to consider this most seriously." He agrees and nods. "I have a few things that need doing also - nothing that cannot wait, but the soonest started the soonest completed!"

He kisses her on the cheek as he rises.

"If you wish for more tea, I left the kettle warming near the fire. Otherwise, my love, I will see you in a few hours."

She reaches up and caresses his cheek when he bends to her, closing her eyes briefly at the contact and smiling. Even on a day off, neither of them is able to ignore duty completely. And in truth she would not have it otherwise. Neither of them truly likes being idle, not for long. He is too used to responsibility, and she is too fond of a challenge.

Dealing with the papers occupies her enough for the other cup of tea he mentioned, and she idly consumes it (and the eggs, success!) as she makes notes and begins to draft a letter to one of their factors in Dol Amroth, regarding certain seeds that she wishes to purchase which are late arriving. She will need to plant them soon, if they are to be ready to grow when spring truly arrives...

All in all the time passes more quickly than she would have guessed, and it does not seem long before she has changed into a riding dress with split skirts and is saddling Windfola. She could have ordered it done, but it still pleases her--and her horse--to tend him herself, and she makes small whickering noises at him as he bats his muzzle playfully against her shoulder.

Faramir is there after her, but not too long, and his delay is explained by the saddlebags he shares with her, heavy with food and (probably watered) wine.

"Apparently, the cooks think we are starving!" He shakes his head in amusement at the wealth of produce in the bags.

"But give me a moment, Eowyn, and we can be off together."

Eowyn eyes the heavy saddlebags with bemused amazement. "They have noticed I have not eaten well for the past few days, I know, but I did not think they feared I was wasting away!" She turns rueful. "That or our news is already guessed, perhaps."

She takes the saddlebags from him and loads them onto Windfola, as Faramir tends to his own mount. By the time he is ready she is already mounted, and Windfola prancing in place, eager for a good ride. Eowyn looks vastly amused by her horse's impatience.

"I do not know if they guessed or if they merely worry, but as many of your known favourites as they could manage I saw them squirrel away."

He agrees, and laughs at Windfola's eagerness as he mounts - his own grey mare is as placid as ever. Mithlun never gets excited unless there's something to chase.

"I think we had best hurry, or we will be chasing Windfola and you across the plains!"

"Well, whatever the reason for their largesse, I will try to see it is not wasted. And I think you will be chasing us across the plains in any event."

Her grin is broad in anticipation, and it does not look like she has much intention of restraining Windfola once they are free to do so. But she keeps him reined in as they leave the stables and ride down past the village that supports the manor, until they're out on the main road. Only then does she give Windfola his head, and soon they are a white blur in the wind, racing towards the outer fields.

"Quite possibly." Faramir eyes the way Windfola is dancing. "I think he will not tolerate anything less than a gallop!"

Once they're out, Faramir laughs to see Eowyn take off, and clicks at Mithlun, who snorts her opinion of these young energetic types but obediently picks up her heels to run. They've no chance of catching them, but the joy is in the running, and not the catching anyway.

Edited 2018-09-08 08:09 (UTC)

Their rides often end up like this. Windfola, like his mistress, hates to be restrained; though he will be more calm once allowed to run wild for a time. They lead Faramir and Mithlun a merry chase for a time before slowing down near the further fields and choosing slower paces--and Eowyn demonstrates that there is at least a little joy in the catching, for she gives Faramir a kiss once he has managed it, though they stay on horseback for it.

The further fields, of course, require only a cursory glance to determine that they are in fine shape for the plowing months ahead. And once that is determined they are free to change their course towards the nearby woodlands. By now Eowyn knows the area around Eryn Arnen nearly as well as Faramir himself does, and they ride (much more slowly, with trees now surrounding them, to Windfola's disgust) through the forest until they find a small creek, then turn to follow it upstream.

They make idle talk as they ride, and from some unspoken agreement keep only to easy topics: the care of the house, word from mutual friends, nothing urgent. Eowyn passes on the details of her latest letter from Merry, including his confirmation that he is officially the tallest hobbit to ever have been measured, a fact of which he is extremely pleased, not least because he is now also on record as being slightly taller than Pippin. "Though Pippin, of course, protests this," she concludes, smiling a little. Without her even realizing, the hand not holding Windfola's reins is resting on her abdomen again, despite their not having been speaking about the baby.

Faramir often thinks he is fortunate Ithilien has as many plains as woods, or poor Windfola would be forever irritated! But eventually the spirited stallion has had enough to consent to walk again, and Faramir spends the time idly watching his wife with fond eyes as they talk about simple things.

"Poor Pippin! No doubt he has started to agitate about returning to Fangorn so that he might settle that score on his side. Did I not hear that he is courting now?"

"He is," she confirms, smiling. "A young lady with the unlikely name of 'Diamond'. I hope she knows what she is getting into." Pippin has calmed down a good deal since his younger days before the War of the Ring, but he remains Pippin. "Ah, here--"

Sure enough, there is a small meadow by the side of the stream, dotted with bluebells and a few lingering snowdrops. Eowyn dismounts and looks around, her expression as pleased as if she somehow conjured it personally. She smiles up at Faramir, still mounted. "What do you think? Will this do for a picnic, or shall we continue on towards the waterfall?"

Absurdly so. Also, I am mean.

looooool so terrible

do you really think Eowyn would get along well with pregnancy? She's not that patient.

lol sadly true

I think the best word to apply will be "tetchy."

looool he will make sure to supply backrubs and footrubs

Smart man. He's also welcome to play with/braid her hair so long as it's in play.

He is not at all opposed to this!

They should take the whole day off and go riding and meandering and talking. Yes?

absolutely!

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oh lord I've just realized how nervous/hovering he'll be when she gives birth

he will be the MOST anxious

Oh lord, the midwives will probably want to kill him. We have to write it.

looooooooooooool yes

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