faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

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From:

theywhowait

"I trust thee." Faramir smiles at her. "You may think yourself ungentle, but you have been nothing but, with this loving heart."

Aragorn laughs and Arwen winks at them both approvingly as they pass them, and Faramir blushes a little but holds his head up high. The negotiations the next day are boring, but necessary, and both of them are too well trained to their duty to shirk from it now.

He comes up behind her, and catches her around the waist, burying his head in her hair.

"What I would give for this process to be expedited!"

From:

withoutswords

She starts a little as he sneaks up behind her, but recognizes him before more aggressive instincts can kick in. She relaxes into the embrace, reaching a hand back around his head. "A great deal," she agrees. "Save only that then your visit would end."

From:

theywhowait

"True." He sighs and relaxes, now that she is here in his arms.

"Perhaps we will be able to steal a little time on this ride."

From:

withoutswords

"With your cousin present, and all our guards, and who knows who else?" She turns her head and kisses his cheek. "I think not, alas."

And sure enough at that moment footsteps approach, the light quick steps of a hurrying maid, and Faramir barely has time to release his betrothed before Lothiriel joins them.

It is a good ride all the same, particularly after the necessary, tedious business of the morning. The day is cool but bright, the breeze gentle and from the west. More than once, Eowyn or Lothiriel between them seize the chance to gallop a while, from sheer trapped energy, and if Eowyn and Windfola can outrun all of them, they at least restrain themselves enough to not be impolite.

When not racing, the conversation varies. Lothiriel demands an account of how they met, which Faramir and Eowyn between them provide, neglecting some of the more private details. She demands too an account of Eowyn's fight with the Witch-King of Angmar, for it was a great victory and one the maid clearly admires. That, Eowyn refuses to give, demurring that the songs already being sung tell the story better than she may. But a shadow crosses her face as she says it, and she is grateful when Faramir, ever observant, is quick to change the subject to another, easier subject.

Despite herself Eowyn stays a little more quiet afterwards, though she smiles and stirs herself to further conversation. This girl will be her kin, after all, and her curiosity is born of innocence and good will. But Eowyn is not sorry when their ride comes to an end. Lothiriel thanks them both and promises to see them at dinner, and pulls Faramir aside for a private word as Eowyn excuses herself to tend to her horse. She takes more time than is perhaps needed at the task, refusing to leave it to the stablehands but instead brushing and grooming him at length.

From:

theywhowait

"Sadly true..." Faramir murmurs, and then that is all they have time for.

Lothiriel is clearly much taken with Eowyn, who she clearly idolises - but she is very young still, in many ways. A sharp mind, but a young spirit, one whose family has clearly tried to protect, the baby of the family. She asks without understanding of what she might wake with her questions, all unknowing.

Faramir nudges her away when he sees that Eowyn's darker memories have been raised, and to Lothiriel's credit she takes the hint and turns the talk to bright chatter about Rohan instead.

(She is also quite taken with Rohan's King, in an entirely different fashion to the hero-worship she views Eowyn with. Faramir is not entirely certain if he should be worried, and if so, who he should be worried for. He's never learnt so much about Eomer's eyes before.)

When he finally escapes, he returns to the stables, hoping to catch another brief moment with his bethrothed, away from prying eyes.

"Eowyn?" He calls softly.

From:

withoutswords

Eowyn is much lost in her own thoughts, and does not hear him at first. But Windfola whickers as he approaches, recognizing him as a friend, and by the time he is in view she has as mile on her face. They are still not alone, truly, for the stables are always populated; but there are only a few others present, and they are busy with their own tasks. "My lord?" she answers.

From:

theywhowait

"I am sorry for my cousin."

He apologises, coming over to offer Winfola a rub.

"She is, as you can tell, very young, still. She will not do so again."

From:

withoutswords

Eowyn waves her hand briefly, dismissing this. "She meant no harm, and she is far from the first to ask such questions. There are many who think is strange that I have no desire to boast of my great victory."

The words are light enough, but her face is still shadowed, and she looks at Windfola's flank as she brushes it, instead of meeting his eyes.

From:

theywhowait

"That I know." He comes over to rest his hands around her waist, not impeding her movement.

"But it does not make the shadows any less real, nor painful. Oh Eowyn! I would that I could sweep away your grief! But since we both know that pain is pain, and wounds always ache when stirred, I will say only this - I am here, beloved. In whatever way you need me."

From:

withoutswords

"You do comfort me." Eowyn closes her eyes and leans back into his embrace, welcoming the closeness of him. "It is not that," she says quietly. "Or not only that. I--there is something I had not yet told you."

She sighs, standing still for a moment in his hold, then puts down her brush, stroking Windfola's side a moment in farewell. "Walk with me? We should speak of this, a little."

From:

theywhowait

"Of course." He blinks, and moves to let her lead the way.

"What is it, Eowyn?"

From:

withoutswords

She shakes her head a little, a silent request for him to bide a while yet, though she takes his arm as they walk out of the stables. She leads him...nowhere in particular, in truth, merely a little away from the crowds that are always present near the royal stables and cavalry grounds.

When she has gathered her thoughts enough, she begins, her voice low. "It was some months ago. My brother offered to spar with me, as we did when we were younger, and as I judged myself in good enough strength once more, I was glad to agree. But then--"

Her voice falters, as it never falters. She frowns, irritated with herself, and continues. "It was the first time I had tried to wield a sword since the Pelennor, and I...could not. As I reached for it, I was back there, with the Wraith-king before me. I could feel my shield-arm broken at my side. I could almost swear I felt His breath on my face."

A great shudder runs through her body, one that has nothing to do with the cool air. She stops walking, turning her face towards the wind as though it can cleanse her of the memory. "Every time I have tried has been the same, to one extent or another. The few times I did succeed, my hand shook so badly that I soon dropped it once more. I have tried to overcome this, but so far I have not."

Faramir will know how difficult that admission is, and that she thinks less of herself for failing in this is obvious. She meets his eyes for the first times since leaving the stables. "I have met others with the same sort of injury, as I am sure have you. It is as well I have chosen another calling, for I do not think I will ride into battle again, though it shames me to admit it."

Frustration is written clear on her face, along with an unwonted uncertainty. It is not uncommon for those who have seen too much of the horrors of war to reach a point where they cannot face a return, and she has counselled several such in her work as a healer...but Eowyn still expects more of herself, and has not yet come to terms with her failure.

Edited Date: 2018-06-11 12:54 am (UTC)

From:

theywhowait

Faramir follows, content to walk beside her and give her what comfort touch and his presence might.

He frowns, worried but her faltering, but he stays silent, giving her the time and space to work through it. And when she is done he pulls her into his arms and kisses her fervently.

"Oh brave! Oh Eowyn. I'm so sorry, my love. That you should have something so much a part of you so rudely stolen!"

From:

withoutswords

The kiss is welcome, but the words more so, and her face lightens as she hears them. She touches his face with gentle fingers. "How do you always know what to say?" she murmurs, stroking his cheek. "Yes, that is it exactly. Even though I had decided to lay my sword aside..."

She doesn't need to finish. She worked hard all her life for her skills and place as a shieldmaiden. To choose another path is one thing, but to have the old path taken from her is hard. Even without the injury to her pride, it is hard.

She leans up and kisses him again, out of gratitude for being so understood, and by the time the kiss ends she looks more herself. She clasps their hands together, looking down at them. "It is my hope that I will be less troubled by it in time. Here--" She looks around at the training fields, at the Golden Hall up on its hill. "Here I am too torn, still too much trying to fit into an old life no longer suited to me. When I am less surrounded by memories, I think I will not mind so." A smile flits across her face, and she squeezes his fingers. "Another reason why I am impatient for us to be wed. As though more reasons were needed!"

From:

theywhowait

"A choice that you make for yourself is always kinder to bear than one made for you." He agrees, leaning into her hand although his eyes search her face with fond concern.

"As do I! You have trained hard and earned your skill fairly - for it to be stolen is cruel."

He nods, understanding. "Even as I felt stifled by my father's robes and offices. A fresh start will do us both good, I feel."

Faramir leans over a little to kiss her gently. "When we have time, if you wish it, I am always available for you to practice on. And if you gain again your skill, or if you do not, you will always have my love."

From:

withoutswords

She lets out a low laugh of relief. "I am glad to hear it, and will as gladly accept that offer, once we have settled ourselves in Ithilien. Although...you made your promises to a wild shieldmaiden of the North, and I wondered a little if you would regret the change." She steps an inch closer to him, leaning her head on his chest. "Not much, for I have more faith in your heart than to fear aught. But a little."

From:

theywhowait

"Well, I like to think that I am a fair swordsman!" He smiles at her laugh. "Perhaps it is the wild shieldmaiden who would learn! Either way, I anticipate you will have a few tricks you can teach me."

He pulls her closer, marvelling once again that she permits him to see this side of her as well. He tips her chin up and kisses her.

"Tis alright to fear so long as it does not stop us - we both know that! But I am here, always."

From:

withoutswords

She gives him a Look, and pokes his side. "I know full well that you are a swordsman to be reckoned with, Faramir, Captain of Gondor," she teases. "And I do not doubt there is much you could teach me, if only I may steel myself to learn it! But I am glad to know that you at least will think no less of me if I cannot."

She will think less of herself, in that case--but he is right, it will not stop her, and will only push her to strive harder. Eowyn does not give up easily.

She tilts her face up to his willingly, kissing him long and slow under the afternoon sky while his hand cups her face, and the taste of his mouth warms her like sunlight. It's not the rush of heat that kept overtaking them yesterday, but something more intimate. Inwardly Eowyn marvels, not for the first time, at the depth of connection between them, a thing entirely new to her experience.

They are interrupted after a few minutes, by a distant cheering sound from the training yards, and when Eowyn turns to look she can see, far off, someone in Gondorian livery waving his arm and cheering on his Captain in his...endeavors. She chuckles, though she does flush a little, not that any is near enough to see save Faramir himself. "I think your men are pleased for you," she murmurs.

From:

theywhowait

"I will not." He promises her solemly with a kiss. "How could I, knowing the sort of injury you have had? But I think you too stubborn to allow our Enemy to triumph without at least attempting to laugh in his face - and I believe that your spirit is far stronger than he knows. The way of the blade may not be yours any longer, but it is your right to at least have that much back."

He looks up and makes attempts at a stern shooing off, but his men only laugh back at him, although they do kindly turn away to at least allow them to pretend at privacy.

Edited Date: 2018-06-13 03:24 pm (UTC)

From:

withoutswords

She chuckles a little. "It is true; I am stubborn. One of my faults, but at least in this I may turn it to good advantage." Her expression takes on that slight edge that he may remember from the first days of their meeting, one of determination, though now it is not so grim and fey as it was. "I laughed at him once. You are right: I shall do so again. But I will wait and choose my battleground with more care."

Eowyn, undaunted by the teasing, smiles at the mock-sternness on Faramir's face, and takes his arm once more. "Shall we walk a little more out of range?" she asks, almost demure except in that her eyes are twinkling with mirth.

From:

theywhowait

He smiles and cannot resist kissing that smile, so bright and strong.

"Stubborness is only a fault when one does not apply it correctly. My aid I pledge to your battleground, in whatsoe'er way you require it."

He sighs at his men in fond exasperation, immediately diverted by her hand on his arm.

"I suppose we should, as I fain they will be watching no matter what I say!" He says in mock exasperation.

From:

withoutswords

She leads him onwards, that smile still on her face. "I have endured similar from my people. As you saw last night!" The last she adds ruefully, remembering how they were stopped and teased as they attempted to escape from the feast for a time. "I suppose it is good to know at least that they do not disapprove of the match."

From:

theywhowait

"Your people love you." He smiles at her, and ignores the cheerful whistle as they pass one of his guards.

(Said guard also tips his head very politely at Eowyn)

"That is true - although it is none of your business!" He scolds another gaggle of soldiers in Gondorian livery at the gate, clearly watching them more than working. They scatter with good natured laughter.

"I swear it is worse because Boromir is gone and Aragorn already wed, and so I am the only one they can take out these sentiments on!"

From:

withoutswords

"And yours love you." She holds back a laugh as Faramir chides his men, as they wander off chuckling at his expense. It is all well meant, and she resents none of it. "That is probably the reason. The wedding of the king was a time of great joy, and songs will be sung of the day for generations. But it is you who the people have known and followed for years, so their delight in your delight is the more personal. Certainly that is the case for me and my people, and most glad I am of it."

She squeezes his arm. "Also, you are not so high and out of reach as the king! It is hard to tease a man who has stepped out of prophesy and legend, and not nearly so satisfactory."

From:

theywhowait

"Perhaps I should try and cultivate an air of mystery to discourage them... but I fear it might only backfire!"

He grins at her shyly.

"I am glad that they approve though - it would not have mattered what they thought, but it warms my heart to know that they do."