By this time, Éowyn's got up, taking the candle with her, to kneel in front of the fireplace and lay out the fuel. When he speaks, she looks over her shoulder at him, the faint light of her candle casting deep, gaunt shadows across her face. One eye is lost in the shadow cast by her hair.
When she's sure he's done, she nods, turning back to the fire. Her face is hidden from him, but the hunch of her shoulders and the bend of her back show her unease just as well. At last, she lights the fire and pushes herself to her feet, turning so she's silhouetted against the newborn flames. She stands there for a moment, her brow furrowed, looking at him across the room. Then she strides over to the bed and, without really thinking, puts her arms around him. Her embrace is rough and brief, but she doesn't regret it: whether or not he needed it, she did.
"Make room," she tells him, as she pulls away, and gets onto the bed beside him. She doesn't get under the covers (she has some sense of propriety, even distraught as she is), but it's just so good to have someone beside her, warm and close and real, and not feel so alone. For a moment, she sits there, with her knees pulled up to her chest, and watches the fire take hold in the grate. At last, so quietly it's barely there at all, she says hoarsely, "What have they done to us?"
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sforzinda
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Date: 2016-08-23 06:32 pm (UTC)When she's sure he's done, she nods, turning back to the fire. Her face is hidden from him, but the hunch of her shoulders and the bend of her back show her unease just as well. At last, she lights the fire and pushes herself to her feet, turning so she's silhouetted against the newborn flames. She stands there for a moment, her brow furrowed, looking at him across the room. Then she strides over to the bed and, without really thinking, puts her arms around him. Her embrace is rough and brief, but she doesn't regret it: whether or not he needed it, she did.
"Make room," she tells him, as she pulls away, and gets onto the bed beside him. She doesn't get under the covers (she has some sense of propriety, even distraught as she is), but it's just so good to have someone beside her, warm and close and real, and not feel so alone. For a moment, she sits there, with her knees pulled up to her chest, and watches the fire take hold in the grate. At last, so quietly it's barely there at all, she says hoarsely, "What have they done to us?"