faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

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From:

freo

"...No, you are right," Éowyn agrees with a tiny sigh as he pulls back, following suit and lifting her head to meet his gaze. As always, he soothes her the way nobody else can with one look alone, bringing a tender smile to her own lips. She closes her eyes and kisses back gently, softly-- one pale hand coming up to cradle his cheek.

"You are completely right," she repeats once they part from the sweet kiss. "Let us cast off such dour thoughts when now we have weeks worth of time together ahead of us. We will make the most of them, and create memories to sustain us for when we must part again."

It would not be forever, as hard as it would be; and after, they would be reunited for nothing less than their own wedding, never to be parted from each other ever again. The hour has grown even later and darker, and Éowyn chuckles softly, lips curving into an amused smile as she thinks back on her excuse to draw Faramir aside. "I am afraid we did not see much of the view I promised you..."

From:

whattheydefend

"So we shall," he agrees, leaning against her so their foreheads touch. Having her so close to him is a joy and blessing indeed, and he cherishes it. "And this greeting will not be the least of those. I assure you I seen the view I wished to see. Although, I cannot say I have had my fill of it..."

His eyes twinkle down at her, for he is obviously not speaking of Edoras.

From:

freo

Her cheeks blush prettily even as she breathes a laugh, smiling in fond amusement and bashful pleasure both. "You flatterer," she accuses in a murmur, entirely without heat. "You shall give me a big head with all these pretty compliments."

From:

whattheydefend

"That was not flattery," he corrects, still smiling at her. "Nor even a compliment. It was merely the truth. But if you fear for your head, I will try to hold my tongue."

From:

freo

It is an entirely expected correction, and Éowyn's lips twitch. "I was simply making an observation. I did not say you need to stop," she points out primly, the effect ruined completely by the gleam of mischief in her eyes.

From:

whattheydefend

He chuckles and reaches for her hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing her fingers, lips lingering against the knuckles. "If you wish me to stand here and list all the attributes you possess that I admire and adore, my lady, I will gladly do so. But we will be standing until dawn before I run out of them, or possibly longer."

From:

freo

Her eyelids lower a little heavily as she watches him kiss her knuckles under her lashes, smiling a small -- and frankly, rather besotted -- smile.

"That sounds like an extensive list, indeed. You have been busy, these past months." A hint of a fond chuckle chases her words, even if a regretful sigh follows soon after. "Perhaps some other time, then. We should return soon before they send out a search party-- much as I would rather stay with you. Even if we did nothing but stand here until dawn."

From:

whattheydefend

His own smile is just as besotted, not that he seems to mind. He sighs at her words and nods agreement, acknowledging their justice.

But he bends his head and kisses her again first, slow and lingering. If it is the last opportunity he will have to kiss her this evening, he would make it a memorable one.

From:

freo

She echoes his sigh when his lips cover hers, closing her eyes and framing his face with her palms as she kisses back. It is a slow, loving kiss and yet has such intensity and longing right beneath the surface; Éowyn all but melts against him, a sweet little frisson coursing through her body. If memorable was his intention, he certainly succeeded with that.

"If that was meant to make our return under the public eye more tolerable... it did not," she breathes with a slightly rueful, thready chuckle once they part, her breaths coming a little heavier than usually. If anything, such a kiss only makes her more reluctant to let go of this stolen moment.

From:

whattheydefend

He hums slightly as she leans against him and pulls her closer, one arm locked around her waist and the other cradling her back. She shivers a little in his arms and he takes a deep, shuddering breath, sweeping his tongue against hers one last time before breaking the contact.

"It was meant to help sustain me until our next opportunity." His voice is lower than usual, his breaths more husky. "But I think it has achieved the opposite effect, and succeeded only in making me more impatient." All he wants is another kiss, and another, an endless succession of them.

He raises a hand to her face, cupping it in a broad, calloused palm. His thumb strokes her cheek, and he sighs, unwilling to step away from her even by a few inches. "We should return, little as I wish it."

From:

freo

"Trust me; I know precisely what you mean." A faint breath of laughter follows, a tease on the tip of her tongue about her own impatience having rubbed off on him-- they had said as much in their letters. She does not wish to part even for a moment; to lose the feel of him against her, his strong arm wrapped around her waist. Leaning into the touch of his hand, she echoes his wistful sigh and nods her head.

"I know," she says quietly, curling her fingers around his wrist. Somehow, they would have to find the will to move away from each other and return to the polite pretense. At least after their trothplighting is made public, they would have a bit more leeway; not much, but some. They would have to endure. Lifting on her toes a little, she pushes in for one last kiss; murmuring tenderly once it ends, "I love you."

From:

whattheydefend

"I love you," he answers, brushing his nose against hers before sighing and stepping back, reclaiming her hands and twining their fingers together. "And I am most glad to be reunited with you, even if this interlude is all too brief. Even if I may only look at you from across a room, it is still preferable to mere memory and words on a page."

From:

freo

"I feel the same," Éowyn sighs again, this time with a small smile. She squeezes his fingers gently. "Come-- this will not be forever." In more than one regard. She lets go of his hands, only to take his arm; one of them must make a move to return inside, or they will stand here prolonging this moment for as long as they can.

"We will have better opportunities to spend time together-- after uncle has been laid to rest." And once Meduseld gets a little less crowded with visitors; as honored as she is by such lofty company, it is only Faramir's that she longs for.

From:

whattheydefend

They still stand closer to each other than they ought, and he does not care, even if it means they walk very slowly as they resume their circle around the Meduseld. Perhaps all the more so for that reason. "We will," he agrees. "In how many days will that take place? And is there anything I might do to aid you, either in preparation or more personally? I know it will be a day of many mixed emotions."

On the same day as Theoden's funeral will be Éomer's official coronation--as well as, Faramir hopes, their own trothplighting. Such, at least, Éomer has intimated to him.

From:

freo

"Three days hence," she replies a bit somberly. "A day of sorrow it certainly will be, but also of joy." For knowing Théoden will finally rest with his kin, for the proper beginning of Éomer's reign... and, she hopes, for a joy far more personal for her and Faramir. Smiling warmly, she tightens her fingers slightly against his arm as they walk.

"Your offer is considerate, but you are our esteemed guest. I would not dream of putting you to work, my dear lord! All is well in hand with practical arrangements." It is a gentle, fond chide, albeit no less firmly meant. "More personally... I will take much comfort and strength in simply knowing you will be there, Faramir."

From:

whattheydefend

He shakes his head. "Guest I may be, but I dislike being idle as much as you, Eowyn! I do not doubt you have all things well in hand, but if you wish to make use of me, please do. Or else I will find myself doing naught but sparring with your countryfolk, who seem most curious to test my mettle. A reprieve would be welcome from that onslaught!"

He sounds more amused by the prospect than intimidated, despite his words. But at her last sentence he takes her hand and kisses her fingers briefly. "Whatever comfort I may offer you is yours, beloved, and gladly given."

From:

freo

"Ah, I see," Éowyn laughs. "Your true motivation is revealed; you wish merely to escape the trials my folk would set before you." Her eyes dance with fondness and mirth even in the low light, every word nothing but a playful tease. Her expression softens with affection and appreciation when he takes her hand and kisses her fingers, teasing forgotten for now.

"I know it," she murmurs, smiling tenderly. "With you here, there is no sorrow or hardship I could not endure."

From:

whattheydefend

"Will they set trials?" He looks as though he more than half-expects her to say there are. "There are no more Simarils, so I cannot fetch one for you, but anything else I will undertake, if I must."

From:

freo

"That is well, for I have no desire for Elven trinkets," Éowyn answers a little wryly, smiling. Only she would call the fabled jewels responsible for so much strife and upheaval something so irreverent as trinkets. "As for your question... let us say that I should not put it past my kith and kin. We have but time before the funeral, after all."

From:

whattheydefend

He laughs outright as she dismisses the legendary Silmarils, ruinous in their beauty, as naught be Elven trinkets. It is perhaps as well that none of the Firstborn are near to hear of it, but he is vastly amused, and pulls her in close so he might kiss her head. "Then I am forewarned! What should I expect, or may you tell me? And will you be present to cheer me on, as I hope you would, or too busy with other matters?"

From:

freo

"You are in the Mark now, my lord. You may assume it will be a test of strength and skill." Her smile at the kiss lingers for a moment, before she sighs, sounding a little chagrined. "Were I not the King's sister, this would not even be an issue. My father had to also pass some kind of trial upon wishing to wed my mother. I cannot help but find it a little foolish, truthfully," she confesses in a murmur, but at the same time knowing the old ways were difficult to change.

She has not broached the topic with Éomer yet, whether he intends to demand this of Faramir; but as it had always been done in the Mark, why not now? It is just the thought of Faramir having to prove his worth somehow to the Rohirrim, to be deemed worthy of her hand when she had herself already deemed him more than that feels... unjust. No matter what tradition dictates.

"In any case, we will both know more soon, I should think. And if or when the time comes, I would not be anywhere else but right there, lending you my full support." She smiles crookedly, evidently teasing as she goes on, "It is not too late yet to reconsider throwing in your lot with a Northern barbarian..."

From:

whattheydefend

"That I had presumed," he says, not without irony. The Rohirrim are great believers in strength and shows of strength, and not subtle. More intelligent than they are credited by their Southern brethren, but not subtle. "I do not mind, beloved, truly. I would suspect that as with most wedding traditions it is less a matter or proving myself, and more a matter of entertainment--and such entertainment is usually at the groom's expense! But after the years of hardship both our people have endured, it seems a small thing. I trust I will not make too much of a fool of myself."

He will certainly endeavor not to do so, for all that he speaks lightly of the coming contest, for her honor as well as his own. But what matters most is that Éowyn herself think well of him, and that surety he already has.

When she teases him, he gives her one brief, raised eyebrow before ducking his head and kissing her again, just as passionately as earlier, utterly heedless of anyone who might be nearby. And then once he has begun it is difficult to stop. His hands somehow end up on her shoulders, then her face, as he makes a thorough job of demonstrating that he has no intentions whatsoever of reconsidering. It is several minutes before he forces himself to break away, breathing hard. "I hope that makes my wishes on the matter clear?"

From:

freo

Not subtle in the least. Much as Éowyn takes pride again in her house and heritage, she is also aware of the differences between Gondorian and Rohirric cultures. She may make all the barbarian jests she can, case in point, but she would be lying were she to claim she had never wondered -- in those brief moments of doubt when their separation weighted most heavily on her -- if perhaps there was some truth to the jokes. It is not in her nature to wonder and doubt thusly, not very often at least, but some things were simply too important to take for granted.

"That could never be possible," she denies with a smile to the possibility of him looking like a fool, knowing it is a response only an utterly smitten person would make and not caring one bit.

She cannot feel bad for teasing him with such a reward! For she can hardly call it punishment, either. Sighing against Faramir's lips, she matches his passion every step of the way, tangling one hand in his hair like she has a habit of doing. When they finally break apart, her cheeks are pink with a flush and she also has to catch her breath for a moment before attempting an answer.

"A most persuasive argument, my lord. I am much convinced," she breathes on a happy chuckle, gazing at him warmly but with some solemnity, also. This is no longer a tease, but a legitimate concern. "And what of your own folk? Are they still content to see their much beloved Steward wed a Northerner and set her up as mistress of Ithilien?"

Slaying an enemy as mighty as the Witch-king in battle was all well and good, but that only went so far, the way she sees it. In her mind, she has a duty just the same to prove to the people of Gondor that she would make a worthy wife to Faramir-- to say nothing of her role as the future Lady of Ithilien.

From:

whattheydefend

He can see her concern is real, and smiles, brushing her hair from her face. "In the past, perhaps it might have been more contentious. It is true there are a few on the Council who like it not at all, since our betrothal means they cannot manuever things as they wish, to their own benefit. And I doubt many of the noblewomen of the city will look on you with love, having stolen off with my heart before they had any opportunity to attempt to snare it themselves!"

Faramir is a modest man, but no fool; the Steward of Gondor would have been a prize worth catching by any reckoning, second only to the King. He is more than a little relieved to be spared all the matrimonial matchmaking that would have been his fate, had he not met Eowyn. Alas that he is not spared the political manueverings of the Council as well.

He takes her hands and squeezes them, then takes her arm once more as they resume their slow walk. "But you reckon without recent events. I do not mean only your own victory; though that was a great thing indeed and did much to endear you to the city, for they were much harried by the Witch-King and knew something of his evil. Many of the soldiers revere you as a figure out of legend, to be almost worshipped, and already songs are sung of it."

His expression is not unsympathetic there, for he knows that such a position is at least as much uncomfortable as it is an honor.

"No, I mean that the people of the Mark are now held in high esteem, for everyone knows that had you not answered our call, all would have been utterly lost on the Pelennor. I do not deny that there are jests about Northern barbarians, just as your people speak of we stuffy, prudish Stone-folk. But there is great love between our people, and it is felt all the more now, not least as our kings are sword brothers. There will be some who disapprove, certainly, just as there are those of the Mark who dislike your leaving to be wed to a milksop from the South, I imagine. But truthfully..."

For once, his smile is a little shy. "Truthfully, I do not care what they think, and hope you will not either. If we are to have difficulty on that front it will be in Minas Tirith. But we will make our home in Ithilien, and I think that by working as hard as any, as I know full well you will, you will soon win the hearts of all there almost as completely as you have won mine."

From:

freo

Éowyn tips her head to the side and presses her lips tightly together to stem a particularly smug smirk, attempting to affect primness. It is not an entirely successful endeavor. Or at all.

"I daresay I can live with their scorn." No, she would downright relish in it; if these women were petty enough to hate her simply for earning Faramir's love and regard, then none of them would have been a good match for Faramir to begin with-- even were she not in the picture. She cannot say she pities any of them. And these political issues? Well, Éowyn knew better than to think there would not be any of those. She is sorry, however, that it falls upon Faramir to deal with them.

All of her smug amusement flees her, however, when they resume their walk -- as slow as they can reasonably manage to stall for time and delay another separation -- and Faramir tells her of her reputation among the soldiers. She frowns, biting her lip in indecision. How strange it is, that not too long ago such tidings would have pleased her immeasurably; indeed, it would have been a dream come true. Now, she is less taken with the idea, though she recognizes the honor therein and does not spurn it. But her valor was won during her bleakest, most desperate hour, and she had paid a great price for it. She needn't say any of this out loud, though. Faramir already knows it all.

She does not quite snort, but there's a certain weight to her huff of breath that almost makes it so. Whomever would mistake Faramir for a milksop was as foolish as those petty noblewomen he spoke of a little earlier, and worth little regard as far as Éowyn is concerned. She tightens her grip slightly on his arm at that shy smile, responding with a warm, loving one of her own.

"I do not. Yours is the only opinion and regard I truly care for," she says, and it is the earnest truth. "But, I still wish these folk who will join us in Ithilien would think well of me. I want them to have a Lady they may be as proud of as their Lord." At least she would work hard, just as Faramir said, to make it so. Her smile turns more teasing, albeit fondly so, as she glances over. "Almost as completely, hm?"