faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

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From:

theywhowait

"No." He agrees, eyes fixed on the babe in his arms.

"Lothiriel and Amrothos I only met as children, and we are the youngest of our generation."

From:

withoutswords

"Mm." She yawns, though she feels hollow inside, and knows she should eat. But his shoulder is comfortable, and she is looking at Elboron. His head is so small compared to Faramir's hand. "My experience is hardly better, I fear. Much at second hand, little of my own."

From:

theywhowait

"We will have to muddle through together, then." He looks up to smile at her.

"I'm sure with two of us, we'll work it out!"

From:

withoutswords

"We shall. More foolish people than we seem to manage, after all."

She sighs, reluctantly sitting up again. She is wearied beyond belief, nauseated and shaking with exhaustion, but she knows part of the reason is how little she has eaten for the past...how long has it been? Time has become a strange uncounted thing since their interrupted meal. She frowns, looking at the window, but the shutters are closed. "What hour is it? Or should I ask, what day?"

From:

theywhowait

"And that, I think, we can safely say neither of us are." He agrees.

He lends her his shoulder, although his arms are occupied with their son.

".... in truth, I am not sure." He confesses. "But I think it must be close to the noon meal, by now. Tis the day after your labor began."

From:

withoutswords

"So short a time, for so much change!" She grimaces again, but slowly, carefully begins to eat her own meal. Her hand shakes a little. "It seems far longer."

From:

theywhowait

"Perhaps tis because the change is itself so large. But you fought long and hard, last night."

From:

withoutswords

"I did," she admits. "As long and hard a battle as I have ever faced, save one." Of which they speak only rarely, usually in the dark of night after ill dreams. She glances down at Elboron, whose mouth is open as he sleeps. "But with a greater victory, I think."

From:

theywhowait

"A much better looking one, tis true." He teases lightly, turning away from the shadows.

From:

withoutswords

That makes her smile, and her eyes are fond as she looks at him: always her light, the one who pushes away the dark, right from the beginning. Eowyn leans over and kisses his cheek softly. "I love thee."

From:

theywhowait

He smiles at her and turns to kiss her cheek in turn.

"As I love thee."

From:

withoutswords

The healers return before long, to take away Faramir and Elboron both, to scold Eowyn into finishing her meal and taking more rest, but her heart is a bit lighter this time as she submits.

The next two weeks pass in a haze. She remains kept largely to her bed for the greater part of it--much to her dislike, but when she does try to stand she is able to take only a few halting steps, and those with assistance. It crosses her mind more than once that she has had a nearer escape than the healers have admitted, if she lost so much blood as to leave her thus weakened.

The thought only makes her all the more determined. Every day she tests herself, walks a little further, a little more unaided. It is slow, faltering progress, but progress all the same.

Learning to mother Elboron is made of the same uncertain progress. She can do little to take an active part, while in the healers' care. He is brought to her whenever she asks, whenever possible, and she feeds him as she may, or sometimes simply holds him as he sleeps, his fingers wrapped hard around her thumb. He still does not look like either herself or Faramir, to her eyes, aside from his dark swatch of hair; he looks only like himself. Like her, he mostly eats and sleeps just now, a thought that makes her smile. Very well; they will both take the time they need.

Gradually her milk flows stronger. Gradually her steps grow longer. Gradually Elboron spends more time awake, looking around him, curious about the world.

They both grow stronger, until a day a few weeks later when Eowyn is again able to walk to the orchard of her own accord. Still slower, and not alone, but still under her own power, and Faramir's company and a few of his White Company to keep a discreet guard are no hardship to bear. The days have grown cold once more, and winter approaches.

But they are all wrapped warmly, the sun is shining through a break in the branches, and the trees provide protection from the wind. She and Faramir rest on a blanket on the ground with the remnants of a small picnic between them, Elboron lying on his back and staring up at them with the curious, faintly dubious expression babies have. They make faces, and he tries to imitate them, batting his fists restlessly at the air; and Eowyn laughs, the sound as strong as old, ringing merrily through the clearing.

From:

theywhowait

For the first time in a long while, Faramir exercises the full extent of his authority to spent those first two weeks as much with his wife and son as he can, for once not feeling at all guilty for dumping as much responsibility as can be dumped onto his sensechal and council.

(Fortunately, Eowyn is dearly loved and the doting father's mood is well understood, and no-one begrudges the extra work)

This morning the first frosts were seen, although they lingered only moments before melting, and the trees are in full autumn display. Faramir smiles dotingly on the picture they make, and steals a leaf from Eowyn's lap to show Elboron, tickling his nose with it.

"How cold it was this morning! We will have to build the fires up to ensure he does not catch a chill." He muses.

From:

withoutswords

Elboron scrunches up his nose, trying to push away the strange thing poking at it, and Eowyn laughs again at his expression. "Do not fret so. Our walls are well-built and keep out the wind, and the nursery one of the warmest of all our rooms."

And seriously Faramir, if you're going to hover over Elboron the way you hovered over Eowyn, she may well kick you in the head. Or worse, ask Windfola to do it for her.

From:

theywhowait

Elboron's face gets a soft laugh from his father as well, Faramir taking the leaf away obliginly.

"This is true. I only worry as he seems so small and fragile! Still, the lambswool blanket your brother sent will be a boon outside, I am sure."

From:

withoutswords

"So it is." Her look at him is fond, despite the slight warning of a moment ago. Faramir worries for all those he loves, but she well understands why. "As will the lined carry-sack your cousin Lothiriel sent. When I am allowed to ride once more, I hope to take him with me." She picks Elboron up, lifting him above her head, grateful for the renewed strength that lets her do so at last. "Do you think you will like that, my little one?"

From:

theywhowait

"He will, for he is a Rider's son!" He smiles at them both.

"We should take him to the stables to meet the horses, I think. Do you think he is old enough yet?"

From:

withoutswords

"Merely to meet horses? Certainly. They should get used to his smell as soon as may be, and he to theirs. I would have done it before now were I able." She grimaces a little, for it has taken much effort to convince the healers to loose the leash they have placed her in.

But she sighs a little and lets it go, turning a smile once more on the subject of this discussion. "But he is also a Ranger's son, and perhaps it will be that he prefers to move silently and stealthily through the forest like his father, rather than galloping wildly over the plains as his mother does." Her sideways smile at Faramir is affectionate.

From:

theywhowait

"It is good that they get to meet each other and get used to each other early." He agrees.

"If he does, I will be very glad!" He laughs. "And will obviously teach him. But I suppose he is too young, yet, to know!"

From:

withoutswords

"It might be wise to wait until he can walk," Eowyn agrees, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

From:

theywhowait

"I think it would be very hard to sneak when one cannot even crawl!"

He agrees mock solemnly, and kisses the laugh in her smile.

From:

withoutswords

"Ah, but perhaps he is ambitious!" She kisses him back sweetly, glad of the attention. They share a bed once more, and there are embraces and kisses--but not so many as before, for they are both busier, distracted by their new son and the reordering of their lives around him. So far it is all too much of a whirl for Eowyn to miss other attentions (and as she has been sternly reminded more than once, she is still healing)...and yet, it has been a long time, and she cannot but be a little wistful.

But before she can identify these feelings clearly, there is a sharp tug, and she breaks off the kiss with a gasp; Elboron has managed a lucky grab at her hair, and is now waving it back and forth after having given a sharp pull. Eowyn winces. "Definitely ambitious."

From:

theywhowait

((ooc: sure! Let's see... how about... ))

"Oh dear!" Faramir laughs and reaches over to help untangle her. "I see he shares my fascination already!"

Thus do the days go by - in the early stages, things are much the same, changes happening so slowly as to only be noticed on looking back. Day by day, Elboron grows more alert, and Eowyn grows stronger. They take him to the stables, where the horses snuffle at him curiously and one of the stable cats promptly adopts him, thereafter found occasionally curled up in his cot, somehow managing to enter through all the locked doors unseen.

Soon enough, he's big enough to go on further excursions, and now at last Faramir and Eowyn find the chance to get out of doors. The air, by this point, is definitely chilly, and there's snow on the ground as often as not - but they are both dressed warmly and Elboron is bundled up enough that he begins to look somewhat indignant at his sudden inability to move. They've gone as far as Henneth Annun. The waterfall does not freeze, being far too powerful for that, but the river above and the pond below does, a little, creating magical landscapes of strange crystalline shapes. It's too cold for a true picnic, but not for a brisk ride and a warm drink.

From:

withoutswords

Eowyn has been finding motherhood more difficult than she expected, hard as she tries. She loves their son, but she is tired, unnerved by the changes in her body that have not gone away since giving birth, and often short-tempered even by her own standards. Knowing that it all is typical of a new mother makes it no less irritating, and knowing she is being irrational makes it no easier to refrain.

But at last she has the healer's blessing once more to ride, at least for short distances. This is a longer ride than they have yet attempted, and she is determined to enjoy all of it, despite the necessity of going at a slower pace than she would wish.

And it is a beautiful ride. Winter in the forests of Ithilien is altogether different from winter in the Mark, where the winds blow sharp. Here things are softer, and the snow decorates the trees, create strange sculptures that sparkle in today's sunlight.

From:

theywhowait

Winter in Ithilien is certainly less cold!

Faramir watches her enjoy the new world around them fondly.

"Tis good to get out, again." He sighs happily. "Although this winter is a harsh one, we are, at least, in a good place to ride it out."