Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

[questionablewit]

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Brilliant ideas and clueless flailing all welcome.
AUs and cross-canon, drama and comedy and shipping.
Just throw stuff at me. It's all good.

Comments

[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.

[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.

[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."

[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."

[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."

have you read The Bride Price, btw?

[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."

i have!! :3

[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."

Probably we shouldn't go that extreme buuuuut it might be fun?

[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?"

maybe not that hardcore, yes, but some kind of contest etc would be fun

[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..."

I'd be at a loss for what should be involved though, I admit. Aside from horsemanship.

[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?"

hmm, i'm gonna try to do some research on this. we'll come up with something!

[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.

Do you want to be left to it or shall I research also? Good either way. =)

[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."

feel free to research yourself! the more the merrier :)

[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?"

brain made of mush right now, alas!

[whattheydefend]

He does know how much Éowyn's victory cost her, and covers her hand in his at the look on her face as she remembers it. He understands very well that difficulty, having similar experience. He too is lauded for for valor shown during a time of despair, and while he can accept the honor with grace, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, as it must in hers. But if it means people are more willing to accept their union without rancor, that is no small silver lining.

His smile firms and grows at her response. "Judging by the help you have already been to me, and the knowledge you have shared about the relations between a great house and the people who support it, I think you will be quick to earn good opinion. And yes, almost as completely--for to love you more than I do is impossible, and I challenge anyone even to match the depths of my affection. Though I am selfish enough to hope none attempt it!"

my turn for mush brain now!!

[freo]

She glances over with a small, grateful smile for his support, tightening her own hold on his arm in a gentle squeeze. She's aware Faramir knows better than any how she's feeling, for his own path has been no less rocky. Thankfully, such ill times are past them both and they have a far brighter and happier future to look forward to. Together. Still, the thought causes warmth to unfurl in her chest, no matter how many months she's had to get used to the idea.

Her smile, too, turns warmer at his response, for Faramir is ever her staunchest supporter-- a little chuckle escapes her when he gets to the end of his piece. "Even if they were foolish enough to try, that would be a pitiful, doomed attempt, indeed." Like it's as simple as that; to her, it is. "There is no man on this earth better and dearer in my eyes than you, my love."

We can procrastinate the stuff that needs brains!

[whattheydefend]

His smile is filled quiet joy, and he lifts a hand to caress her face. "Then I need not ask if you regret your part of the bargain. But what of your people? They too are proud, and justly so. What think you? Even if I succeed at every task I am set, will I soon be forgiven for stealing away the brightest star of Edoras? Or will some shake their heads and sigh over how you were sacrificed in a foolish alliance with the South? For you are held in highest esteem in the Riddermark, my lady!"

He is more teasing than not, but the question is a fair one. It is not only Éowyn who has something to prove.

[freo]

"You will be," Éowyn says with a smile. "For I know you, and I know my folk. If they doubt, they will not do so for long."

She lets that sit between them for a moment, before going on more solemnly, "Yet, I will not insult your reasoning and claim all are entirely happy, as you did not with me. But as you said-- if there are those who would disapprove, then let them. I do not think it is possible to please all, regardless of what we do."

Such was the inescapable truth of things. All they could do was their best, and leave any dissenters to their opinions. Smiling with more cheer, Éowyn squeezes his hand. "So, let us both try to instead focus on things that truly matter."

timeskip time, I think?

[whattheydefend]

"Such as returning to the feast hall?" He smiles ruefully, squeezing her hand in return. "We make very slow progress, I fear! I am surprised none have come in search of us by this point. Either we have somehow escaped notice, or I am held in higher esteem by your brother than I thought."

yess, sorry this took me forever and that it's so lame

[freo]

Éowyn bursts into joyful laughter. "It is most likely that Merry and Pippin are the real draw in that hall and distracting everyone quite superbly, my brother included. We owe the hobbits our thanks, I think."

With a smile, she tugs him along, with some regret letting go of his hand to move hers to the crook of his arm-- a little less familiar, as they finally pass under the arches of the entrance and back inside the Hall where, indeed, the hobbits are making a spectacle of themselves much to the delight of those assembled there. Though the sharpest edge of longing has been dulled by their little interlude, Éowyn and Faramir still keep close for the rest of the night as best they are able, exchanging glances and managing to hold hands occasionally, hidden from view underneath tables. But all feasts eventually come to an end; even Rohirric ones. Éowyn goes to bed that night with a near giddy anticipation kindling within her breast, the only thought sparing her from hours of tossing and turning being the fact that the sooner she sleeps, the sooner she will see Faramir again.

The following morning is as mild and sunny as the previous one, and breakfast nearly as hardy as the feast that came before. Éowyn takes pride in her hard work building up to these days, as everything runs smoothly; but she freely admits, if only to herself, that ever on her mind even more so than her duties is Faramir. As soon as she possibly may excuse herself from household matters, she seeks him out.

I didn't really give you anything to work with! Don't worry about it. =)

[whattheydefend]

The evening passes more agreeably for Faramir than it did before he and Éowyn were able to steal away for a little. They are able to talk a good deal more, if about less personal matters; he learns more of the Riddermark and the Meduseld, and tells her in turn more about their Elven visitors. And of course they are both of them surrounded by friends, the hobbits not least. When he does eventually find his bed he sleeps deep and well--though that may be attributed at least as much to the pleasantness of having a proper bed once more, as to the sweet anticipation of more of Éowyn's company.

That anticipation is the first thing he feels when he wakes, and he is quick to dress and make his way to breakfast. It is a crowded affair, if not as much as the feast of the night before, and he cannot find a glimpse of his not-yet-betrothed, who is no doubt busy with her own duties.

But there is no time for regretting this. Before he has even found his breakfast he is claimed by some of his cousins, who join him along with the Elven twins, Elladan and Elohir, with whom they have become fast friends. There is entertainment of some sort planned for the afternoon, it seems, but nothing for the morning--and while some of the travelers are using the time to catch up on comfortable rest, they are all of a more active mind, and remind him of a promise made the previous night to spar with a few of Eomer's Riders. After weeks of travel with no practice, they all need the exercise, it is claimed.

Faramir gives in with good grace, not least because he would welcome some activity himself, if only as a distraction to keep him from wandering in circles hoping to find Éowyn, which would lead to the dual snare of his being in the way of other people and relentlessly teased for mooncalfing (more than he already is).

So when Éowyn does eventually find him, it is in the training yards with a group of some twenty or thirty and a few spectators, everyone in borrowed armor and practice swords (only wood, for this). For the moment Faramir is standing to the side, though from his rapid breathing and the sweat on his forehead he has not been inactive for long. At the moment the twins are fighting off a group of five Riders on their own, their own connection and familiarity with each other's fighting style making them a force to be reckoned with even though they are outnumbered.

But Faramir, who whenever he is not fighting himself, has been half distracted by keeping an eye out for any stray glimpses of flowing blonde hair, sees her as soon as she approaches, and steps out to meet her, smiling broadly.

<3

[freo]

Word of mouth passes quickly, and Éowyn does not need to search for Faramir for long, heading to the training yards. She is not certain from whence the initiative came from, but she is not surprised that he is already getting drawn into sparring. But so long as he does not mind it... she certainly cannot say she minds seeing him like this, catching sight of him on the edge of the training ring only to realize he has spotted her first.

Éowyn's smile is as warm, affection evident in her gaze as she approaches; truly, what she really wants is to embrace him -- better yet, to steal a kiss or ten -- but none of those things would be appropriate in so public a place, and their betrothal still unannounced, besides. She halts by the open gate of the training ring, grasping lightly at a wooden beam with one hand. She may think she is practicing restraint, but her body language is rather clear to anyone with some wit to observe; the way she turns her face up at him, open and inviting, the way she unconsciously angles her body toward him. The lure of Faramir's presence is undimmed and unchallenged even by the spectacular show the Elven twins are putting up behind them, drawing the eyes of most other spectators.

"'Tis barely noon and already you are in the thick of it, my lord," she says with a laugh once he draws closer. "Have all your fears of fighting every éored in the Mark come true?"

o/

[whattheydefend]

Faramir's body language is every bit as transparent as hers, and though he is more aware of it (in both himself and in her), he cares not a whit. To him she looks radiant, and he all but basks in the warmth of her smile, his own expression openly tender. All his instincts scream for him to take another step closer, place a hand on her face and pull her in for a welcoming kiss. It is astonishing how strong the impulse is, and how unnatural it feels to restrain it.

"Not yet." He takes her hand and kisses the back of it, surreptitiously running his thumb along her palm in a hidden caress. That much, at least, he can do. "Not the twins around to be so helpfully distracting. I suspect they are doing it on purpose, and am most grateful!"

[freo]

Éowyn smiles as radiantly as Faramir deems her, giving him a look under her lashes at the kiss to her hand-- shivering a little as he brushes his thumb along her sensitive palm, the intimacy of the gesture as thrilling as the secrecy of it.

"I am equally grateful to them, as it gives us a moment here. Though sadly not one so private as I think we both would like." Her smile turns a little sly, a little knowing, at that. "I hope you slept well and found no lack in your accommodations?"

just bs, she doesn't need to go into detail, we'll timeskip a lot

[whattheydefend]

"They were lacking in only one respect," he murmurs, exchanging a coy smile of his own for hers. "And that will be amended in time, I trust. And yes, I slept most well, thank you."

He releases her hand with reluctance, but they are observed and should probably not be too obvious. Fortunately there are safer topics to hand, and he turns so that it will at least look a bit more as though they are watching the match instead of only each other. "Though speaking of fighting every Rider in the Mark, I am warned you have arranged entertainment for all your guests, for the next days. A series of games and tests of skill." He raises an eyebrow at her, though his eyes are twinkling with mirth. "I am also warned that no one intends to go easy on me, so perhaps my fears are but delayed a few hours."

He does not sound particularly fearful. On the contrary he looks remarkably relaxed. Which likely has to do with how near he stands to her.

will do!

[freo]

Éowyn blushes and lowers her gaze modestly as the implication of his words properly dawn on her, but smiles regardless-- rather widely, too. It is only a moment later when she looks up again, smiling on. "I am much pleased to hear it, my lord."

She is just as reluctant to let go, but let go she must. She longs already for the day when keeping up these appearances are not necessary. Too, she looks over at the ongoing bout, impressed by the prowess and elegance of the Elven twins. And yet, even such a display cannot pull her full attention from the man beside her, glancing back over with an arched brow of her own.

"So I have. A bit of sport to pass the time and amuse the guests." Her tone lilts casually, her smile turning a bit teasing at that. "No such tests nor challenges which you are not previously acquainted with, ranger of Gondor."

A perfect compromise, she thinks, between friendly gaming for the guests and satisfying the curiosity of the Rohirrim about her soon-to-be betrothed. It does not remove the fact entirely that eyes would be on Faramir more fastidiously than normally, but conducted under a communal, celebratory guise helps take some pressure off. She chuckles, shoulders shaking and eyes gleaming with similar amusement as his. "Oh, yes-- you appear fearful indeed by the prospect."