Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

[questionablewit]

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[withoutswords]

"He will not, for I will tell him of you every night before he sleeps. But speaking of sleep, make your farewell for now."

Carefully, so carefully, so as not to wake Elboron, she lifts him from her shoulder and hands him to his father. They will see him off properly when he and his company ride away, but that will be very different from this quieter moment.

[theywhowait]

"Goodbye, my son." Faramir accepts him carefully, rocking him and memorising the smell and weight of him.

"I go to fight for your future, as your mother remains to safeguard your present. Do not be too quick to grow, for I will be home soon!"

[withoutswords]

Elboron does not stir, wrapped in dreams as he is. But Éowyn memorized the sight, to keep with her: the small, still bald head, the large hand gently cradling it. Strength and fragility, side by side. "See that you are," she answers, for herself and Elboron both. "Soon, and unharmed, for we have great need of thee."

sliding just a liiiiiiiitle bit ahead

[theywhowait]

He leans over their son to kiss her softly.

"I will do my best! For all our sakes."

The next morning the Rangers of Ithilien ride out in solemn company. No bright banners or bright armor, but the dark colors of the woods to better blend in. But their faces are set and calm, looking forwards resolutely. Faramir is not the only one thinking of those who will wait to see them return, but they all have their duties to perform.

diiiiiiitto

[withoutswords]

Eowyn watches them ride out, and her heart tugs at her, and briefly she wishes she were accompanying them. But their son lies sleeping in a room behind her, and that pull is stronger yet, binding her here.

She does not resent the binding as she once would have. There is work to do, and she does it, speaking with the captains Faramir has left to tend Ithilien's defences in his absence, ordering the house, assisting the healers when she may. They know that however the battle goes, there will be much need of...many things.

Eowyn is no stranger to organization, nor to being prepared. Nor to defence.

Nor to waiting.

It is three weeks before the battle is wholly ended, and a rider comes ahead to tell Ithilien's lady that among those worst wounded is her own lord, and to beg for healers to be sent at once.

Eowyn rides with them, her face so fierce with determination that none dare gainsay her.

[theywhowait]

The healers are met by the outriders, the wagons pulling those unable to ride or walk, and amongst them, Faramir lies, breathing shakily around what looks to be nasty bruises on his chest, and bandages on his arms.

He opens his eyes when Eowyn approaches and smiles up at her faintly, eyes dark with pain.

"I am home, my love. In a rather bruised package, I fear."