faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

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From:

withoutswords

She reaches up to him as he approaches, and though inwardly she is irked by how difficult it is, how little strength she has in her arms, the relief of holding him and being held is greater. "Faramir...the babe, have you seen him? Is all well?" There is real concern in her voice.

From:

theywhowait

He gathers her into his arms and sits down beside her.

"I have. Our little son! See, the wet nurse is bringing him in now. He is doing very well, for having caused such trouble."

From:

withoutswords

She turns at once, and Faramir will be able to feel how tense she is, how uncertain, as though steeled for some conflict she does not yet understand. The wet nurse smiles as she approaches--she is an older lady, and well used to new mothers in her profession--and then places the infant in Eowyn's arms.

Those arms shake a little, and if pressed she would claim that it is because of the blood loss she underwent, rather than any foolish nervousness. But this is a moment of reckoning, far more than the birth was. Pain and effort and injury are things familiar to Eowyn. This is altogether new.

But she has held babies before, and her arms know how to bend to accomodate one. She sits with Faramir's arm around her and their son on her lap, and looks down into the sleeping face. "He is so small," she murmurs. He is no smaller or larger than any other baby, in truth, but he seems small all the same, especially the tiny nose and fingers. She touches his hand, and even in sleep it automatically clenches around hers.

From:

theywhowait

He sees, but says nothing - she is stressed enough without him adding to it. Instead he curls his arms around them both, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Aye. A small bundle of trouble! But see, he knows you."

From:

withoutswords

"While asleep? I think not." But she tries to tug her finger away and smiles at his firm grip. She scans the face for signs of herself or Faramir, but they are hard to see in one so newly born. The dark fuzz on his head hints of his father's hair colour, however, and she smiles again at that.

"Hello, little one." Her voice is low, for this feels an oddly solemn moment. Their various attendants have all withdrawn to give them privacy for this meeting. She touches his nose, traces an eyebrow. "We will need to settle on a name, now that he is here." For they never had, though many options had been thrown back and forth. Éowyn had found she disliked the idea of choosing a name for certain until after the birth, if the child seemed healthy. She looks up at Faramir. "For your brother?"

That much, they had agreed on. Not Boromir itself, but a variation. She well knows how much his brother meant to Faramir.

From:

theywhowait

Faramir chuckles, spooning her from behind and watching mother and babe with love shining in his eyes.

"His grip certainly appears to!"

He nods, agreeing.

"I had thought about Elboron, perhaps?"

From:

withoutswords

"Elboron," she says, testing the name, and finding she likes it. She jiggles her finger a little in the baby's grip, smiling at the implacable tightness of it. "Westu Elboron hal!", she says quietly, then sighs, sagging a little more again Faramir, some of the tension seeping out of her, to be replaced by sheer exhaustion. She looks up at him. "I remember that you came to me, at the end. I do not imagine Elana was pleased, but I am glad of it. Thank you."

From:

theywhowait

He smiles at them both, proud and joyful.

"I couldn't bear to leave you alone. It's at least half my fault after all." He murmurs.

"I wanted to be there for you, as little as I could do!"

From:

withoutswords

The look on his face is wonderful to her, and reminds her of how he looked at her on their wedding day, the mix of pride and wonder and love, and deep happiness. "I do not think fault is the right term." She tilts her face to kiss his cheek, then turns back to look at their child.

Their child. That is an amazement. It does not yet seem real. She runs a finger gently down the babe's nose, and he scrunches up his face and mewls a little.

The rush of love and delight that fills her all at once makes her gasp, and she bends over a little, clutching at him. She cuddles him in tight, kissing his forehead, her eyes closed. A few tears gather.

From:

theywhowait

"Perhaps not." He smiles wryly. "But it seemed fitting as I watched you fight."

He watches as mother and child bond.

"You know, I did not think that anything could top our wedding night, but this... this is joy unthinkable."

From:

withoutswords

"It is," she whispers, curling in against him with the child held close. She looks up with eyes bright and wet with joy, and kisses him. That will have to express her feelings for her, for she has no words for this. It is a happiness so great it is almost painful, beyond anything she has ever known.

But even as Eowyn kisses her husband their son wakes more in earnest, and lets out a pitiful wail. Eowyn breaks off the kiss with a small laugh, mixed amusement and dismay as she looks down at the now squalling child. The cry summons the healer and wet nurse, who tut and take them all in hand.

It is not the done thing for noble ladies of Minas Tirith to breastfeed their own children, but Eowyn is from the Riddermark. She has duties to attend, aye, but made it clear well before now (in downright earthy language, which amused some of the staff and shocked others) that she would feed her child herself where possible. Would a mare refuse milk to its foal? No, and nor will she, for all that she is willing to accept the assistance of a wet nurse.

Determination is one thing, but Eowyn finds that the actual business is more awkward than she had expected, especially as she is weak after the birth. How is one to support one's elbows? But soon enough she and the babe are skin on skin and he's suckling--suckling hard, in fact, she did not expected something with no teeth to be able to cause such a pain! Clearly, motherhood is not for the faint-hearted. She winces a little, and her smile is rueful, but there is still that joy deep in her eyes as she looks down at him and strokes his head.

Edited Date: 2019-03-30 10:26 pm (UTC)

From:

theywhowait

He kisses her softly, rejoicing with her, until their sun wakes.

Faramir helps as best he can, but obviously this is something that he cannot do, and most of his help invovles staying close, pressed up behind her so that she may rest on him as she needs.

"You seem a natural!" he murmurs at least, once things are finally settled.

From:

withoutswords

Having Faramir to lean against is a help, not least as he can support her arms, for Eowyn is wearied to the bone. If his breath tickles her bare shoulders, that is a small price to pay. She snorts a little at his comment, for she does not feel a natural at this at all, though it seems to go well so far. And it is...not unpleasant, despite the hard suction. The softness of Elboron's skin is a wonder to her.

The healer's assistant is watching with a critical eye. "After this, you are to feed yourself and sleep further, my lady," she says, in a voice that strives to match Elana's brisk, not-to-be-gainsaid tones, and does not quite manage. "You can't hope to feed your little one unless you care for yourself as well, and you have healing to do!"

She looks at Faramir as she says this, her eyes pleading a little. Eowyn is notorious for working until she drops, and she lost no small amount of blood. Truthfully the apprentice suspects Mistress Elana would not permit this at all, not until Eowyn is in better shape herself.

From:

theywhowait

Faramir smiles reassuringly at the assistant.

"We will abide by the healer's restrictions." He assures her. "We both have some practice in doing so!"

Not necessarily well, or willingly, of course.

"And I will support her in whate'er she needs."

From:

withoutswords

Truthfully, Eowyn does not hear much of this exchange. She is still looking down at Elboron, leaning her head back against Faramir's shoulder as she does, her eyes heavy-lidded. After a few minutes she feels someone--the wet nurse?--try to take the babe from her arms, and protests, pulling him back.

But they only wish to switch sides, and that seems to make sense to her, so she settles and permits it. She strokes Elboron's head as he latches on once more. Dimly, she's aware of people speaking, but she cares little for it. All is well, even though she is so tired...for the second time that morning, Eowyn falls asleep while leaning on her husband, so deeply that she does not wake when eventually Elboron is returned to the wet nurse's care, nor when Faramir himself moves.

From:

theywhowait

Faramir watches as she falls asleep in his arms, as Elboron also settles, belly full and comforted. He thanks the wet nurse in a low voice and shifts them both to lie down, Eowyn cradled still in his arms so that he can be here when she wakes.

From:

withoutswords

When she does wake it is slow, far slower than her usual wont, and she feels awful. Her limbs are weak and her head pounding. She licks chapped lips and tries to speak, but it comes out as more of a groan.

From:

theywhowait

"Eowyn?" He stirs himself awake at the sound. "What do you need, my love?"

From:

withoutswords

She swallows a few times. "Water." It's still more a croak than a word.

He must help her drink it, and she is clearly annoyed by her own inability. She cannot even sit on her own. "This will not do," she mutters, glowering at her hands. "What happened, to weaken me so? I know childbirth is difficult, but this seems extreme."

From:

theywhowait

"Give me a moment." He nods and wriggles free, padding over to the nearby table where someone has kindly left them a jug and cups.

"I was told you bled heavily, which is doubtless the cause for your weariness." He brings her the cup. "But that you are out of danger, and I should not worry." he says the last with a wry acknowledgement of his tendency to do exactly that.

From:

withoutswords

She frowns, considering this as she drinks further. "I do not remember," she finally admits. "I have heard of such things happening, though I have not seen it myself."

For of course she has assisted at several births by now, as part of her training. And in the interests of research.

She looks up at Faramir, seeing him clearly for the first time since their interrupted dinner of...how long ago? Was it only the previous day? It seems far longer. And he looks exhausted, with careworn lines on his face despite his words of comfort. She can only imagine how she herself must look. The labour went on until dawn, she remembers. And what happened after the point where she no longer remembers?

"I frightened thee," Eowyn murmurs, only now realizing that he has had real reason for his fear this time, instead of the overweening hovering he has done for the past several months. She has heard more than one tale of a new mother bleeding herself out after a birth. Slowly--too slowly, for moving is so difficult!--she reaches for his hand, stroking the side of it with her thumb. "I am sorry, mðdleóf."

From:

theywhowait

"You were a little occupied." He nods, holding her close.

"You did." He murmurs. "I feared, but you are stronger than I."

From:

withoutswords

She sighs and closes her eyes, relaxing in the embrace, both giving and taking comfort from it. They lie together in silence for a time, grounding themselves in each other's presence.

"Well, is the result worth the effort?" Eowyn says finally, moving back a little so she may see his face. She wears a small smile. "Are you pleased with your son? Where is he?"

From:

theywhowait

He smiles back, moving to get up.

"Well, you certainly thought so last night! But then, you were half asleep, at the time. The wet-nurse took him so that you could get some actual rest - I will fetch him, so that you can look at him in the light of day."

From:

withoutswords

She grimaces just a little, for she remembers holding their son, remembers the name Faramir has given him, but beyond that she remembers little. It is a blur of exhaustion and pain and wonder all mixed. There is still pain, in truth, though she has not mentioned it.

But at that moment there is a light knock on the door, who proves to be one of the healers checking on them--not an apprentice this time, but an older woman, and behind her are servants bearing water and food and cloth. She reminds Eowyn and Faramir both that the lady has not eaten anything since the long hours of waiting before Elboron was born, and she will not heal if she does not eat as well as rest. Elboron sleeps for the moment, and she will do better to tend to her own needs before having him brought.

Eowyn wants to see her son, and her stubbornness is proverbial, but she has learned the perils of ignoring a healer's orders, not least because she expects obedience herself when it is she who gives such orders. So with a grimace, she submits, both to food and to an examination, and to a modicrum of cleaning such as can be accomplished while she is bedbound. And she does feel better for the last, and for a clean nightgown.

Faramir once more helps her to a sitting position, and she answers questions, including admitting to her pain and how drained she is. She and Faramir are both given strict orders as to her tending, what to eat, how long she is to wait before she tries moving, various activities she is absolutely not to attempt for some weeks (including, to Eowyn's utmost annoyance, riding a horse).

It takes more than a little time, and she looks more and more annoyed as the time goes on, for it all drains what energy she has. She only brightens when a soft cry from outside indicates that Elboron is awake, and being brought. Eowyn at once sets aside what is left of her broth and bread, her eyes fixed on the doorway.