faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

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From:

theywhowait

"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."

From:

withoutswords

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.

From:

theywhowait

"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."

From:

withoutswords

"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.

From:

theywhowait

"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!"

From:

withoutswords

"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."

From:

theywhowait

"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."

From:

withoutswords

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.

From:

theywhowait

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."

From:

withoutswords

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.

From:

theywhowait

"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!"

From:

withoutswords

"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.

From:

theywhowait

"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 Date: 2018-09-08 08:09 am (UTC)

From:

withoutswords

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.

From:

theywhowait

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?"

From:

withoutswords

"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?"

From:

theywhowait

"I almost feel sorry for the lass." Faramir agrees wryly. "But he has matured some, and Merry will keep him in line, I am sure."

"Ah!" He smiles at the location and then turns his fond gaze to her.

"Aye, I think this will do nicely. There's space enough to sit and for our horses to graze, and shade too."

From:

withoutswords

"But who then will keep Merry in line?" Eowyn laughs fondly, busying herself with removing Windfola's bit and bridle so he can graze more comfortably. He is even less likely to wander off than usual, given the woodlands around them.

Once their horses are comfortable they may attend to themselves, and spread out a thick blanket and enjoy their repast while sitting on it. The cook has more than outdone herself, despite the short notice, and the abundance of breads, cheeses, cold meats, and other victuals is far too much for the two of them to manage.

There is no need for haste. The weather is fine, if cool, and the stream nearby provides fresh water as well as a babbling undercurrent of sound to their own quiet conversation. Eowyn, generous with her overabundance of food, tosses nuts and bits of bread for any squirrels or birds who venture nearby. Windfola, not to be outdone by woodland creatures, demands and eventually receives a small piece of cheese for himself and then contents himself with grazing alongside Mithlun.

An hour of time finds Eowyn still sitting on the blanket, with Faramir lying stretched upon it, his head resting on her lap. She strokes his hair with idle pleasure, looking around at trees. "Your land is a most beautiful one, Prince of Ithilien." She smiles down at him, for he does not look very princely just at the moment, his hair a wild tangle in her lap and his body sprawled comfortably, and just a touch of strawberry jam at the corner of his mouth. She laughs and leaves off brushing his hair to attend to that. "And, it seems, a bountiful one."

Edited Date: 2018-09-11 09:59 pm (UTC)

From:

theywhowait

"Perhaps Sam?" Faramir opinions with a laugh. Sam and Rosie seem to be adding to their brood every time they turn around, and surely Merry and Pippin are nothing compared to their horde of fauntlings.

It is exactly the best sort of day for this sort of thing - not to warm, not to cold, peaceful with the world around them at rest. Faramir smiles drowsily up at her.

"I am always glad to know that the place where my heart loves is joyful also to the lady who holds said heart!"

He kisses her finger as it tidies up the jam.

"The bounty of our fields reflects the work we have all put in, I think. And I am glad for it! It gives me great hope that this land will do well in the years to come."

From:

withoutswords

She chuckles when he kisses her finger, running it playfully along the line of his mouth. "I am certain it will. It will take more time yet, but Ithilien will once again be the garden of Gondor." It gives her great pride to be part of that reclaimation, which seems of a piece with her own healing. All the work she puts into their country is repaid in literal abundance, a thing far more rewarding to her now than the warrior's work she once longed for. Here, they will build something that lasts beyond themselves.

She laughs a little at that thought, wonderingly. "And we shall have a child to see it, and pass it all onto after we have finished all we can do. What a amazement that is!"

From:

theywhowait

He makes playful attempts to catch her finger as she does so.

"A child to whom we can give this land to." He agrees, smiling lovingly up at her. "And he or she, one day, to their own children."

From:

withoutswords

She laughs again, skillfully dodging out of reach and tapping his nose. "I can barely yet imagine the first, much less those who may follow! It is still little more than a daydream, for all that has been upsetting my mornings."

From:

theywhowait

Considering he is reluctant to actually leave her lap, this is not hard!

He pouts at her for the tap, but his eyes smile.

"True. Early days yet! But you know me, Eowyn - I am a dreamer, and this dream is a very good one."

From:

withoutswords

Eowyn laughs at the expression on his face and resumes playing with his hair. "Early days indeed, my love," she says wryly. "To dream of the third generation when the second has not yet made an appearance. It is a good dream, but lacking a little in practical details."

Clearly, she is the pragmatic one of the pair of them.

From:

theywhowait

"But just think!" He grins up at her.

"One day in the long distant future, you and I will be grey-haired and old, and sitting in this same spot, and around us will be our family. Who will, I hope, all have your lovely hair!"