For drinkupmehearties

[shieldofrohan]

The door to Jack's cell opens just before dawn. Éowyn stands there, dressed for riding - breeches under her gown, her hair braided back close to her scalp - and looks at him for a moment, hand on hip, before beckoning for his things to be brought. His sword will be given back to him: his gun will not. She knows, after all, that if it comes to a fight with swords, she is a more than equal match for him, but her experiences in the Capitol have let her know just how dangerous a gun can be in the wrong hands.

Outside, the horses are waiting. She has chosen a mare for him, docile and easy to ride, with a high saddle that should be easy to stay in. Even with their experience in the Arena, she's loath to trust his riding. There's a big difference between staying in the saddle for an hour or so with adrenaline pumping through your veins, and staying in the saddle for the long day's ride that lies ahead of them.

Her own horse, of course, gives her no such worries. The grey stallion has borne her well since the Pelennor Fields, and she's more comfortable in his saddle than she could ever be with both feet on the ground. As they head out into the courtyard, he raises his head and whickers at her, making her smile.

Faramir stands beside the horses, though he is not dressed for travel. As she approaches, he goes to meet her, ignoring Jack for the moment as he ducks his head to kiss her. "You are sure of this?"

"I am sure," she answers, with a fond smile, and leans up to kiss him in return. "Do not linger here too long, love. Emyn Arnen is not nearly so fair without you in it."

He laughs, low in his throat, and traces his fingertips over her cheek. "How can it be made fairer by my presence, when you are already there to illuminate it?" Straightening up with a kiss to her forehead, he smiles. "I will be a few days, no more. Travel well, my lady. And for my sake, if you should see an enemy, ride away, and not towards them."

Éowyn smiles, shaking her head, and pulls away. "Jack, do you need help mounting, or can you manage?"

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[drinkupmehearties]

Jack scowls back at her, upper lip curled -- it looks like, for a moment, that he's about to retort in kind with the same vitriol. But then, ultimately, his mouth pulls in a cheerless smile. "Aye, truly, just the same as those that'd murder their own children and blood and lock chains on those that've never done them wrong. I've not a spit of humanity in me." His words are dry in tone, expression even.

"Don't strain yourself with the burden of forgivin', great noble lady. You've no reason to go against your nature, and I've no reason to go against mine, so don't waste the time. Doin' right has never done me much good anyhow." He ignores the mare shifting beneath him, and spreads out his hands. "Now, shall you tell me more about how despicable and loathsome and wretched I am? I've heard it all before, but I do always enjoy hearing more."

[shieldofrohan]

Her face hardens still further, and for a moment she looks as though she may spit at him, bring out more bile. Only for a moment. Then she looks away, and it is as though a veil passes across her face. "You're showing daylight at your seat," is all she says, her voice cool. "Relax your thighs, or you'll be more blister than man by the time we reach Ithilien." And she shifts in the saddle, nudging with her heels; as her horse starts forwards into a brisk trot, then a canter, she whistles sharply between her teeth so that Jack's mare knows to follow suit (whatever Jack himself might have to say about it).

Truth be told, she's sorry. Not forgiving, but sorry. He has a point - she was wrong to compare him to the Capitol, wrong to put him on anything like that level. Wrong, maybe, to expect anything else of him. But to admit that even to herself is a battle, and she won't even try to say it aloud. It would only come out wrong, and sour the air between them even more. Better to let it lie, let the hurt settle a while and see what comes of it. Better to let the wind in her hair and the sound of hoofbeats drown out the gall of guilt.

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack keeps his eyes locked with hers for those first few moments, openly inviting her to continue condemning and insulting him. When she instead turns away, the stony look gradually washes away into a tight frown and the pirate clenches his jaw. She won't see it now, but beneath the simmering indignation in his eyes there's a bitter hint of hurt; that she'd chosen to cut him down directly after he'd admitted he'd cared for her -- that she'd meant something to him back in Panem -- stung more than Jack cared to think about. And top to it off, he had let emotion get the better of him.

He settles back into his saddle at her suggestion, relaxing into a more comfortable position just as the mare bounces forward into a trot. His expression fades to something more neutral, impassive, and Jack stays silent as the mare follows behind Eowyn's horse.

[shieldofrohan]

They ride in silence for a long, long time - long enough for the landscape to change around them, for grassy plains to give way to farms and villages as they crest the hill - before Éowyn speaks. "There's bread and cheese in one of the saddlebags. Call out when you want to stop for lunch."

There's another long moment of silence, and then she sighs, looking back at him, and says rather stiffly, "I know why you did it. Why others did, too. For all anger may rob me of reason, I do, but..." And she looks away again, her face set. "I will not apologise. Not again."

[drinkupmehearties]

He's busied himself, in the meanwhile, with wordlessly gazing out and watching the scenery melt away into farms and homes occasionally populated with brief scatterings of people. It's only when Eowyn speaks does Jack finally glance her way, letting a few beats of silence stretch between them, his expression restored to that familiar, casual nonchalance that he's perfected over the years.

Eventually Jack answers smoothly, "Don't, then, Eowyn. I hadn't ever asked you to." With that said he nods towards an open space shaded by a tree, tugging on his horse's reins. "Let's go an' eat. I've need to stretch me legs anyhow."

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn looks for a moment as though she might say something, carry on the conversation - but in the end, she only nods, reining her own horse in and sliding smoothly out of the saddle. "It's a long ride, for one not used to riding," she admits, clicking her tongue as she leads her horse over to the tree and ties off his reins. "But we're nigh on halfway, now."

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack dismounts as well, drawing the mare over to where Eowyn has tied off her horse and doing the same with his. He brushes an open palm over the horse's neck, ending the contact with a short pat, then takes a moment to stretch sore, aching limbs.

"Aye, long and tiring. So long I think I've nearly forgotten how to walk." A half-hearted attempt at humor.

He pulls the tricorne from his head, dropping down to sink comfortably against the tree's trunk. "Gods, that feels much better." Jack leans his head backwards, closing his eyes. Then after a few moments, he cracks an eye open to look at her. "You don't happen to have anything stronger than water in that sack, by chance, do you?"

[shieldofrohan]

Despite everything, that brings a little twitch of a smile to the corner of her mouth. Some things, it seems, haven't changed in the slightest. She can't explain why that should be so oddly reassuring, but there it is.

"No." She sits down beside him, opening the saddlebag and bringing out some linen-wrapped lumps of cheese and a loaf of bread. "There's wine waiting when we get back to Ithilien, but here? No. And a good thing, too, for I'd hate to have you too drunk to keep your seat."

[drinkupmehearties]

He scratches a finger over the line of his jaw, considering. "I'd wager I could manage it." If she catches his eye, she'll see the brief glint of humor in the look. Jack rests his elbows on his knees, one hand splayed out to underscore his next point. "I once climbed me way up the rigging to the mainsail yardarm -- that's the wooden spars the sails are lashed to -- during a storm, all the while loaded to the gunnels, so to speak, from a night of drinkin'. Didn't end up any worse for wear from it."

[shieldofrohan]

"A horse is not a ship," Éowyn replies dourly, but something in her expression reflects that humour, and her posture relaxes almost imperceptibly as she passes him the bread and cheese. "I could ride a horse half-dead, but that doesn't mean I could climb rigging in the same state. Stands to reason it should hold true the other way around, too."

[drinkupmehearties]

"Granted," Jack accepts the proffered food, breaking off a couple pieces for himself. "A horse is, sadly, not a ship. Still." He offers back the rest of the bread and cheese, pausing a few moments to take a couple bites and chew thoughtfully. "Stayin' aloft on that yardarm was bloody difficult. I don't imagine a horse would be much more challenging than that, particularly if we're involvin' a saddle and reins. Besides which, I've complete faith in my impeccable sense of balance."

Do you want to skip forwards? Feels like this is petering out a little

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn considers this for a moment, breaking off a piece of bread for herself. At last, she says, "I have more faith in the horse's balance than yours. Still, you may be right." All the while thinking, And I should like to see you keep your seat on a wilder steed, drunk or sober.