faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

She snorts, but smiles. "You are unaware of how disruptive babies are, my lord, and how often they must be fed, if you think that a wise course. It is appealing but I fear will not be practical."

"It would save us a good deal of bother!" He points out merrily, but she's right and he knows it. "I suppose we could compromise on only part of the time."

She chuckles, turning her head a little further to kiss him. "Any time you wish to aid me in this, my lord, your assistance will be most welcome. Though you may not thank me if it is before dawn, and the third time that night, or worse."

He grins wryly.

"True. Tis all fun now...perhaps not after the fourth sleepless night! But I will do my best to aid thee."

"Mm," is her tired agreement, and she yawns. A moment later, so does Elboron, abandoning his meal in favor of snuggling against her skin. Eowyn smiles down at him through heavy-lidded eyes, stroking the down on his head. "He will have your hair, I think," she murmurs sleepily.

"As long as he has your eyes." Faramir reaches over to touch the baby soft cheek, marvelling.

"I think you had best snatch some rest, now that he is himself sated."

"He may have your eyes," she protests mildly, her mouth quirking into a smile at the end. "But I hope he has inherited my nose instead of yours, for his sake."

She loves her husband dearly and his manly beauty is considerable--but larger noses do seem to run in his family.

"I should," she agrees, then sighs and tries to sit, with difficulty componded by her own weakness and her arms being occupied with holding Elboron. "But I did promise to eat something first, little though the idea appeals. I will be a poor healer if I cannot listen to my fellows.

"I like my nose!" He protests mock dolefully, although secretly he agrees.

"True. Here, shall I take Elboron for a while?"

"I love your nose," she counters, smiling "But mine is the fairer. Yes, take him."

"This much is true!" He laughs, accepting his son carefully. He's still a little hesitant as to how to hold him, although once he's securely cradled he relaxes.

"He seems so small." He murmurs fondly. "And yet his lungs we already know are very loud."

The baby looks small indeed, cradled in Faramir's arms, against his chest. But Eowyn smiles at the sight, moved. "They are," she agrees, leaning her head against his shoulder. "And will seem louder yet when they wake you from a sound sleep. You have not much experience of babies, I think?"

"No." He agrees, eyes fixed on the babe in his arms.

"Lothiriel and Amrothos I only met as children, and we are the youngest of our generation."

"Mm." She yawns, though she feels hollow inside, and knows she should eat. But his shoulder is comfortable, and she is looking at Elboron. His head is so small compared to Faramir's hand. "My experience is hardly better, I fear. Much at second hand, little of my own."

"We will have to muddle through together, then." He looks up to smile at her.

"I'm sure with two of us, we'll work it out!"

"We shall. More foolish people than we seem to manage, after all."

She sighs, reluctantly sitting up again. She is wearied beyond belief, nauseated and shaking with exhaustion, but she knows part of the reason is how little she has eaten for the past...how long has it been? Time has become a strange uncounted thing since their interrupted meal. She frowns, looking at the window, but the shutters are closed. "What hour is it? Or should I ask, what day?"

"And that, I think, we can safely say neither of us are." He agrees.

He lends her his shoulder, although his arms are occupied with their son.

".... in truth, I am not sure." He confesses. "But I think it must be close to the noon meal, by now. Tis the day after your labor began."

"So short a time, for so much change!" She grimaces again, but slowly, carefully begins to eat her own meal. Her hand shakes a little. "It seems far longer."

"Perhaps tis because the change is itself so large. But you fought long and hard, last night."

"I did," she admits. "As long and hard a battle as I have ever faced, save one." Of which they speak only rarely, usually in the dark of night after ill dreams. She glances down at Elboron, whose mouth is open as he sleeps. "But with a greater victory, I think."

"A much better looking one, tis true." He teases lightly, turning away from the shadows.

That makes her smile, and her eyes are fond as she looks at him: always her light, the one who pushes away the dark, right from the beginning. Eowyn leans over and kisses his cheek softly. "I love thee."

He smiles at her and turns to kiss her cheek in turn.

"As I love thee."

The healers return before long, to take away Faramir and Elboron both, to scold Eowyn into finishing her meal and taking more rest, but her heart is a bit lighter this time as she submits.

The next two weeks pass in a haze. She remains kept largely to her bed for the greater part of it--much to her dislike, but when she does try to stand she is able to take only a few halting steps, and those with assistance. It crosses her mind more than once that she has had a nearer escape than the healers have admitted, if she lost so much blood as to leave her thus weakened.

The thought only makes her all the more determined. Every day she tests herself, walks a little further, a little more unaided. It is slow, faltering progress, but progress all the same.

Learning to mother Elboron is made of the same uncertain progress. She can do little to take an active part, while in the healers' care. He is brought to her whenever she asks, whenever possible, and she feeds him as she may, or sometimes simply holds him as he sleeps, his fingers wrapped hard around her thumb. He still does not look like either herself or Faramir, to her eyes, aside from his dark swatch of hair; he looks only like himself. Like her, he mostly eats and sleeps just now, a thought that makes her smile. Very well; they will both take the time they need.

Gradually her milk flows stronger. Gradually her steps grow longer. Gradually Elboron spends more time awake, looking around him, curious about the world.

They both grow stronger, until a day a few weeks later when Eowyn is again able to walk to the orchard of her own accord. Still slower, and not alone, but still under her own power, and Faramir's company and a few of his White Company to keep a discreet guard are no hardship to bear. The days have grown cold once more, and winter approaches.

But they are all wrapped warmly, the sun is shining through a break in the branches, and the trees provide protection from the wind. She and Faramir rest on a blanket on the ground with the remnants of a small picnic between them, Elboron lying on his back and staring up at them with the curious, faintly dubious expression babies have. They make faces, and he tries to imitate them, batting his fists restlessly at the air; and Eowyn laughs, the sound as strong as old, ringing merrily through the clearing.

For the first time in a long while, Faramir exercises the full extent of his authority to spent those first two weeks as much with his wife and son as he can, for once not feeling at all guilty for dumping as much responsibility as can be dumped onto his sensechal and council.

(Fortunately, Eowyn is dearly loved and the doting father's mood is well understood, and no-one begrudges the extra work)

This morning the first frosts were seen, although they lingered only moments before melting, and the trees are in full autumn display. Faramir smiles dotingly on the picture they make, and steals a leaf from Eowyn's lap to show Elboron, tickling his nose with it.

"How cold it was this morning! We will have to build the fires up to ensure he does not catch a chill." He muses.

Elboron scrunches up his nose, trying to push away the strange thing poking at it, and Eowyn laughs again at his expression. "Do not fret so. Our walls are well-built and keep out the wind, and the nursery one of the warmest of all our rooms."

And seriously Faramir, if you're going to hover over Elboron the way you hovered over Eowyn, she may well kick you in the head. Or worse, ask Windfola to do it for her.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

...we'll have to figure out somewhere to go with this now. Drat.

lol yes. Uhhhh... move towards an older child???

Ehhh at the least let's have a small timeskip for now. Yes? I can do that.

yes! Go for it~

/makes something up, maybe a month after the birth

Re: /makes something up, maybe a month after the birth

no subject