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?"

Comments

[drinkupmehearties]

"Not a worry, luv." Jack pulls himself to his feet as well, glancing at her, quite aware of the distinct shift in mood between them. Setting aside the beaker in his hand, he reaches forward take the map and roll it up, tucking it neatly back into his coat pocket, then follows behind her down the hallway.

Once they've made it to the room, Jack lingers at the doorway with her and takes stock -- it's certainly leagues better than a cramped little cell with a cot, and he's thankful for that at least. He meets her gaze as she speaks, then answers after a beat, "You do what you need to." No argument from him on that point; he knows that even with the friendly banter exchanged between them, he's still being held prisoner here.

He takes a step into the room, drawing his coat off and pulling the hat from his head, draping both onto an empty chair. He nods towards the doors, "What's beyond the doors?"

[shieldofrohan]

"The privy, there." She points to one of the doors, with a shrug that seems almost apologetic, as though she wishes she could show him something less prosaic. "The other is a study, though I doubt you'll have much use for it. It has a table, though, if you'd sooner eat here than with us." With me, she almost says, but that sounds either cold or too warm, too personal for that feeling that just passed between them. Us is definitely safer.

She clears her throat, uncomfortable again. She's used to dealing with guests, and she's dealt with prisoners before - but even without the history between them, dealing with someone who's somewhere between the two is unfamiliar ground. It was easier when they were talking, when she could think of him as neither but only as an old comrade. Now, that's not an option.

Normally, she'd move smoothly into telling her guest where to find her in the night, should they need her. But that, too, isn't really an option. For one thing, it sounds awfully like an invitation. That thought raises gooseflesh on her arms, and she's not particularly keen to examine why, so she quickly reassures herself it's a matter of practicality: he can't come to find her even if he does need her, since he'll be locked in. She also can't move into introducing the servants who'll wait on him, because she decided on her way here not to assign him any. And she can't gracefully withdraw to give him privacy, because, well, she can't.

So there's an awkward, pregnant pause before she finally says, a little stiffly, "Is there aught else you'd know, or shall we go down?"

[drinkupmehearties]

He's taken to wandering a little around the room as she talks, fingering the bottom of a tapestry with idle interest, listening intently to her in the meanwhile. Then Jack glances up at Eowyn, a faint smile pulling at his mouth. "Eatin’ by meself sounds rather lonely, to be honest. I’d prefer the company if you wouldn’t mind it." If he can sense her disquiet, the stiffness in her tone and body language, he’s not showing it. In fact Jack seems maddeningly at ease, himself.

Eventually, though, he comes to lean himself against the open doorway, finished with his short exploration of the room. "Aye, perhaps one last thing -- I’d fancy a book or two for the night, if you’d the mind to lend me one." If he’s going to be locked up in a room, he’d rather be able to entertain himself. Besides which, if he was going to be stuck in this land, too, he’d like to know more about it.

He gestures out towards the hallway, "Other than that, lead the way."

[shieldofrohan]

She nods, leading him out into the hallway and waiting for him to close the door before heading down the corridor. "I'll see what I can find in Faramir's study," she says. "Though with how my eyes will not settle on your map, I fear you may have scant fortune in reading them. I'll try to find you something with pictures."

Down the hallway she strides, moving with long, purposeful steps to convince herself she's in control. Down the stairwell, and into the small dining hall, which offsets the banqueting hall near the door. It's still a largish room, and the table at its centre (laden with meat and bread and a fresh flagon of wine) looks as though it could easily seat twenty men.

"Sit wherever you like," she invites him, already making her way to her accustomed seat at the head of the table.