for drinkupmehearties

[shieldofrohan]

It has been most of a month now since Jack came to Gondor's shores, a good two weeks since Faramir returned to Ithilien. Éowyn has meant, every day, to tell him the truth; every day, she has shied away from it. It isn't out of fear for her own sake, or Jack's, but when she comes to speak to Faramir, sees the familiar lines of his face and the gentle look in his eyes, she can't bring herself to hurt him that way. She keeps telling herself the time will come, must come, that she isn't avoiding it but only waiting. Deep down, though, she knows full well there's never going to be a right time, that she'll never tell him if things go on this way, and perhaps Jack was right, perhaps that's for the best. She's kept away from Jack for the most part, giving his care over to one of the serving-men of the household, and she's certainly never repeated the mistake of that first morning back in Ithilien. Faramir knows something is wrong, she can tell that much, but perhaps if she just lets it lie, tries to get back to normal...

It would be easier if everything else went back to normal around her. But it doesn't. It takes her a few days to be sure, to count off the days and know she isn't just being paranoid, that she really ought to have bled by now. She keeps hoping for a day or so after that, but when she comes back from her afternoon ride, strips down to change into a dress, and finds her underthings still clean, hope shrivels to despair.

Faramir is out, luckily. Éowyn dresses as quickly as she can, and tries to steady herself, to wipe away the tears that haven't quite spilled over, before taking a deep breath and heading out into the hallway. Jack's guard is outside his room, and looks at her with clear concern, but when she dismisses him, he goes without argument.

She locks the door behind her, not lingering in the doorway this time but crossing right over to Jack and grabbing his arm. The tears are threatening again, and there's a light in her eyes that isn't remotely one of happiness. "Jack. Listen to me."

Comments

[drinkupmehearties]

He dips his head with a nod. "O' course, that's fair. Weren't my place." He doesn't mind the chiding undertone to Faramir's remark -- perhaps even actually prefers it, in place of the difficult questions Faramir keeps asking him. Honestly Jack is glad for anything at all, really, that would help to redirect the conversation away from his own personal feelings in this matter. He'd already offered out more than he'd cared for, in his attempt to be honest.

Jack clasps his palms together as Faramir stands, and the gratitude in his eyes is quite sincere. "I'm very much obliged for that, mate. You're a generous man." More generous than the men that Jack knew, who were more given to holding grudges than they were to practicing forgiveness or leniency of any kind.

[nearamir]

"No. Only an honest one." Faramir's lips thin for a moment. Not that you would know much of either, he almost says. Almost. It's with an effort that he bites it back, because he can see just how petty that is, and he's trying to be an adult over all of this. Be a good man, the kind she deserves and ought to have.

He sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, and turns away, knocking briskly on the door, three times. It opens a moment later, and he looks back from the doorway, still and quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, and leaves. The guard closes the door behind him, and the key clicks in the lock, and that's that.

That is, for some hours. When he returns, it's dark outside, the candles and lanterns of the castle being lit up and down the hall. This time, when the door opens, there are two figures in the doorway. Éowyn hangs a step or two behind her husband, her eyes downcast, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable in her skin.

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack is draped on a chair near the fireplace when Faramir comes back hours later, warming himself and idly watching the flames crackle and dance. He rises to his feet when the door opens, however, and Jack quickly notices that Faramir's brought company with him.

"Evenin'." His eyes drift over to Eowyn lingering back in Faramir's shadow, searching her face for a hint as to what her presence meant. Then his gaze returns to Faramir, and Jack offers a smooth, cordial smile. "To you both."

It doesn't show in his face or body language, but a twinge of apprehension is working its way into him. The conversation with Faramir hadn't been too excruciating -- and hadn't, by his reckoning, gone all too sour -- but with Eowyn here this time, Jack finds himself uncertain.

[shieldofrohan]

Faramir inclines his head a little, expression inscrutable, and gestures Éowyn through the door before closing it. The lock clicks again, from outside. Wordlessly, he crosses over to the nearest seat, settling himself, his gaze holding on Jack a moment longer before he looks expectantly at his wife.

She hasn't chosen to sit. She lingers near the door, hands clasped behind her back, her lips pressed taut. When Faramir looks at her, she looks back at him for a moment, not quite pleading but closer to it than she ever ordinarily looks, then nods.

"You ought to know," she says to Jack, a trifle stiffly, "that coming here was his idea, as much as mine. Talking in twos, when there are three of us so entangled..." It isn't enough. Faramir was the one to say it, but she does agree. This is wisest.

It's just also very, very uncomfortable.

Faramir is still silent, one finger tapping thoughtfully against his lips, eyes flicking between the two of them, as if gauging the air between them. Éowyn glances at him again, sighs, and continues.

"I took your keeping as a duty, and I have not been discharged of it. You will stay here, that much we know. As to the rest..." Again, she trails off, blushing a little.

[drinkupmehearties]

His attention rests over onto Eowyn as she speaks, but Jack can almost still feel Faramir scrutinizing him from where he's seated. That doesn't make this easier by any stretch -- particularly because Eowyn keeps shooting looks her husband's way -- but Jack remains in place and continues to appear, for his part, fairly relaxed.

He does make a mental note to try to be on his better behavior when speaking; Faramir would most likely not be keen on him addressing Eowyn with terms that were too overly familiar. Even if it is a mostly innocuous habit of his.

Once she mentions she'll still be minding him, however, surprise flickers across Jack's face. He'd have thought Faramir would want him far away after learning the truth. Maybe even somewhere else entirely. His gaze flits to Faramir, briefly, then returns to her.

"What of the rest?"

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn doesn't answer. Her hands fidget, dropping to her sides, twisting against the cloth of her skirt. She opens her mouth, closes it again. She's always considered herself bold and brave, but right now, she's never felt more cowardly. This ought to be a part of her penance, of making things right, but her considerable courage seems to have failed her, swept away by shame. Although she has no right to ask anything of him, she looks imploringly at Faramir, silently begging him to step in.

He obliges, with only a slight hesitation of his own. Dropping his hand back into his lap, he clears his throat and focuses his attention on Jack. His voice is still clipped and correct, but a closer look would reveal the deepening colour on his own cheeks.

"You give her something I do not." He presses his lips together, looks away. The effort it's taking him to remain this calm is, for a moment, very clear. "I know not what that is, if 'tis only warmth when I am not here to offer it, or... or more. But you meet in her something I cannot." His hands, slender and calloused, clench into fists for a moment, and he bites his lip hard, looking for a moment less lordly and more lost. Then he lets out a long breath, looking this time not at Jack but at Éowyn, though he still seems to be addressing the pirate. "I have loved her since I laid eyes on her for her freedom, for her strength. Since I first saw her, I have wanted to ease her sorrow and her grief, to bring her out of the Shadow. I will not be that shadow myself."

Another deep breath. Tears glitter in his eyes. In Éowyn's, too, as she crosses the space between them, holding Faramir's hand tightly between her own, guilt and grief and love on her face.

"You need not," she whispers, and that clearly is to him, Jack forgotten for the moment. "You need not, love."

"I will not be that shadow," he repeats, in the same low, private tone. "That cage. I will not."

[drinkupmehearties]

He isn't certain, at first, that he's heard Faramir correctly. Then the impact of what's been said actually settles, and the played up nonchalance that Jack's been putting on falters. This isn't punishment. It isn't Faramir threatening damnation and hell-fire if Jack ever touched or went near his wife again, like he'd assumed. Quite the opposite.

He isn't sure how to react and can't, for the moment, meet either of their eyes. Instead, Jack finds himself surprised by how glad hearing it makes him. He'd been ready for that imagined talk from Faramir, primed to write her off as another lay and move on. It's how the cards were laid when it came to things like this, sometimes. And Jack has had square with that truth more than once in his life.

However. He hadn't said it aloud in his conversation with her, but Jack hadn't quite wanted to leave it at that. The two of them had a history, a friendship, an intimacy that's hard to for him to brush off so handily. And for Faramir to give what sounded like permission to continue?

His gaze lingers on Faramir, studying his expression, then Jack glances to Eowyn. "You are sure? Both o' you?"

[shieldofrohan]

For a moment, neither of them answers. There seems to be a kind of conversation between them, but one held only in looks; the questioning, the doubting, the decisive. Éowyn looks away first, turning her eyes back to Jack, though her hands stay clasped around Faramir's.

"I am sure of nothing," she says, quietly. Her voice is thick, her eyes glittering. She takes a deep breath, swallows, and speaks a little more steadily. "We have made our choices, Jack. This one is not mine, and I will not... 'Tis as ill to leap too readily to a gift as to rebuff it."

"A choice is no gift," Faramir reproves her, and shakes his head, wiping his eyes before he looks up at Jack. "As to sure... I know only that, in this moment, I see no better path. But if we are to travel this road, it must be with sense and reason. We must be circumspect, and not only for your position, but for ours. I said before, and I spoke truly, that I would take her child as mine - but it cannot be so again, and nor can there be too loud a question of whose child it is. I am the last of a long line, and ill would I leave it so, in anyone's mind. Mine included."

He takes another deep breath, setting his jaw. This has to be practical and considered. He cannot let grief and doubt and anger cloud him now.

"Éowyn, if you go to him, you must tell me. Jack, you will not speak to her too familiarly beyond these walls, nor of her. And..." Despite his best efforts, he falters, flushing crimson. "...And if, when, you... end, let it be outside of her, if you can."

[drinkupmehearties]

He nods in answer. As the two initially fall silent, Jack can't help but watch the quiet exchange unfold between them, the affection and understanding in their eyes clear as a cloudless day.

The two remind him quite a bit of Elizabeth and Will, in a way. He's not often seen that, particularly with the crew that Jack usually worked with; such devoted love didn't always fare well when one party sailed away every other day and brothels littered the ports like weeds. Most were looking for a quick lay anyways, not something that lasted past the night.

Once Faramir addresses him, Jack straightens. "Aye. That's the sensible way to go about it. Far as the rest here will be concerned, she's a stranger to me." He can see Faramir reddening at the last bit, and so smoothly continues, reassuring, "I've no intention of ... " He waves his hand, " ... takin' my chances at fatherhood again. You've me word on that." He's still ill at ease with the idea that she's carrying his child now, even if Faramir has pledged to raise it. And so he's not eager to gamble that a second time.

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn reddens, too, her hand drifting unconsciously to her belly, but she nods. This is embarrassing, but she's grateful for it. For both of them. Most of all for Faramir, who is willing to sacrifice so much to her. That comes with a sick kind of guilt - has he not, after all, sacrificed enough?

Faramir, for his part, does not look at her. Inclining his head a little, he lets go of her hand and pushes himself to his feet. His back is straight, his shoulders back, his pose almost painfully dignified. "Then I ask no more," he says, quietly, and breathes in slowly. "I must think. Alone. Éowyn, if you will stay, stay." His tone is cool enough, but he pauses on the way out to brush a kiss to her cheek, tears stinging his eyes again.

When he is gone, she all but collapses into the seat he vacated, her head in her hands. "This is insanity," she says, not to Jack in particular but rather to the world at large.

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack dips his head in a nod as Faramir stands to leave, thoughtfully silent as the other man parts from Eowyn and the door clicks closed behind him. He doesn't move at first, still partially lost in disbelief that it had actually gone this way.

Then his gaze shifts to Eowyn, slumped in the chair with her head in her hands, her expression shielded from view.

"Could be." He finally moves to sink into the chair nearest to her, sprawled onto it with an elbow propped on the chair's arm. "Wasn't at all how I expected that to turn out." He grazes a finger against the line of his jaw, then eventually gives her a sidelong glance. "Are you all right?"

[shieldofrohan]

"No." Éowyn looks up, her brow furrowed. She looks oddly young, oddly lost. "Or... perhaps. I know not." Her laugh is rather hollow, born of confusion more than humour. "Almost, I wish he had turned on me, hated me for it, raged and railed. At least then I would know how to feel. It would have been easy. It would have been deserved."

Sighing, she rakes both hands back through her hair, pushing it out of her face, and then wipes her eyes. There's no sense, she tells herself, in wishing for wrath. She doesn't want Faramir to be angry with her, after all. She loves him. But because she loves him, this frightens her - his acceptance of her betrayal, his forgiveness of her, when she fears he will not forgive himself. He has taken on the burden of what she and Jack have done, and taken it calmly and without fighting, and it unnerves her to think what that says of him. Or of her, that she let him.

She sighs again, biting her lip. "I do not think he means to make it harder," she says after a moment, slowly, "but I do not think I can come to you again, either. I owe him better than to have him feel replaced, to lock him out of that part of my life which most should be shared with husband and wife. Yet what choice is there, if we go on? He can hardly be a part of it." It's wistful, and there's something questioning in it, too, as if she's feeling out her position without knowing she's doing it: Can he?

[drinkupmehearties]

His own chuckle, low and short, is similar in kind to hers. "Aye. Rage and anger and the like. That's what I'd anticipated, meself." He'd been wholly prepared for that, or at least some semblance of that, since that was the way these things usually went. He'd know better how to feel, what to think, if that had been the case. This is new territory, as it is.

Jack doesn't seem much surprised by what she says next, nodding. "If that's what you'd like to do, luv." He'd had a feeling she'd react that way, was ready to accept that as a possibility as well. But still, Jack pauses and studies her face for a few moments, mulling over his next words. "With that said, if you chose otherwise and we were to continue on," his hand moves with a small gesture, "He wouldn't have to be locked out of it, eh?"

[shieldofrohan]

"And how would that be?" Ordinarily, that would probably come out caustic, a scornful expression of disbelief. But on this occasion, it's an honest question. She winds her fingers together, frowning uncertainly. In principle, she's in favour of making a space for Faramir in this. It seems, in a way, as sensible as their coming together to speak in the first place. Three people are involved in this, however it carries on: surely three people ought to share in it.

It's just that, to the best of her knowledge, sex is typically between two people. Typically a man and a woman, although if nothing else, her time in Panem has shown her that isn't a given.

"Have you done such a thing before?" she asks, picking at a loose thread on the hem of her bodice.

[drinkupmehearties]

She doesn't appear to be outright rejecting the idea, and so Jack sits up a little straighter in his seat, leaning into his elbow resting on the chair's arm. "I have. More'n a few times. I knew these Spanish twins, for example. Both women had such exquisite -- " Jack stops himself suddenly, glancing at Eowyn, then clears his throat.

" -- Anyhow, aye. With women, more times than with men involved. But I've done it." His preferences have always leaned heavily towards women in that regard, but that doesn't mean Jack hasn't indulged in his curiosity once in awhile -- especially when drunk and visiting brothels with a crewmate after a long voyage.

"There's plenty o' ways for him to be a part, so to speak. Certain positions. Depends on how creative you'd like to be."

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn doesn't react to his comment about the Spanish girls, except perhaps that her blush deepens a shade or two. She's thinking. Thinking very hard, in fact, her brow creased deeply.

Is it right? Is it right to push Faramir further into this mess she's created? To draw all of them deeper? She has a sense that the right, noble thing to do would be to pull away, as she said just a moment ago, to appreciate Faramir's generosity in the matter and let it be an end to things. She should take control of herself, of her wants and desires, and not touch Jack, but focus on her marriage. On her duty.

But she isn't sure she can. She thinks, perhaps, this might not be honourable, but it is more so than taking Faramir's gift of forgiveness without a second thought for him.

"I shall bring him here," she decides aloud. "If he wishes it. Tonight."

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack falls quiet for the moment, allowing her the space to properly think over his suggestion. She seems to be intrigued by the idea, at the very least, which is an encouraging sign. Having Faramir join in with them would, perhaps, help to ease the guilt and apprehension she seems to have about sharing her bed with him. Jack certainly has no qualms with the idea, himself.

When she finally does answer, a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "All right. Tonight, then. If he wishes."

[shieldofrohan]

"Tonight." She nods, determination setting her face, and makes as if to stand - then hesitates, sighing, and meets Jack's eyes.

"This is my doing," she says, quietly. "It was I who brought you here, I who began our dalliance, I whose carelessness brought us to this pass. And I would have you know... I am sorry. Whatever should come of it. You are dear to me, after all that we have seen and done, and I risked bringing much down on you." Now she does stand, crossing the space between them and kissing him - not passionately on the mouth, but chastely on the cheek, a kiss between friends rather than lovers. "I am sorry for it. But I... I can no longer be sorry you are here."

She looks, for a moment, as though she might say more. Then she straightens up abruptly, tucking her hair back into place, and clears her throat. "Tonight," she says again, smoothing her skirts and turning away. "After sunset. If we come not then, do not watch for my return to your bed - I fear I shall come not at all."

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack doesn't move as she kisses his cheek, and when she pulls away to straighten, the smile on his face is warm, if not a little more sober. "Thank you, luv. We share some of that blame, I would think." He could've stopped himself when she'd come to him that night, or when they'd woken together that morning, knowing the consequences their actions could've brought onto him. Yet he hadn't.

He hesitates, looking like he may leave his answer at that, then adds, "An' ... I am sorry, as well," he waves a hand, as if it'll help the rest of the words come out, "For me part in it. An' the way it's turned out." Even if Jack doesn't really regret laying with her -- in Panem and here -- while being aware that she's married, seeing the pain it's caused her in the meanwhile has caused him to feel some guilt. And getting her with child hasn't made him feel much better about it.

"Nevertheless, I am glad to be here." She's the only other person that understands what they've been through. And if nothing else, no matter how this shakes out, Jack is thankful for that. He settles back fully into his chair, looking to her, and a smile makes its way back onto his face. "Understood, darlin'. I'll be here."

[shieldofrohan]

Where else? she thinks, with a twist of wry humour. He's locked in, after all. Throughout all of this, he is still a prisoner. She will not think too hard about what position that may put him in. He suggested it, after all, even if it was at her prompting. Surely he would not have done that, were he uncomfortable with the idea?

She shakes off the thought, clearing her throat. "I will have them bring stronger wine. After all of this, I doubt not you shall want it."

And then she's gone, sweeping out into the corridor, the door locking behind her. True to her word, when his dinner is brought to him a half-hour or so later, it comes with a largish flagon of some dark liquid nearer to brandy than wine. After that, he is left alone. Around sunset, the door does open again, but it is only the serving-woman again, come to clear up his dinner things and light the fire.

It's another hour at least, full darkness now settling over the woods outside, before Éowyn comes to him, leading Faramir by the hand. The guard at the door is dismissed wordlessly, and this time when the door is locked, it is from the inside, Éowyn setting the key down nearby. The message is clear, she hopes: this is not a visit of jailers to their charge, but one of equals, if only for a time.

For a moment, both of them hesitate, as if uncertain how to proceed. Again, it is Éowyn who takes the lead, greeting Jack with a nod and guiding her husband to sit at the end of the bed. She leans in, pressing a long, deep kiss to his mouth, trying not to be embarrassed that they are not alone, and is relieved to find that he kisses back with barely any hesitation, even if his gaze flicks to Jack when she pulls away, his cheeks darkening.

"I put my trust in you," she tells Jack, turning to him. She is simply dressed, her long hair loose around her shoulders, and she looks nervous, but there's that familiar determination in the set of her jaw. "You know better than us what is to be done. So. Guide us."

[drinkupmehearties]

By the time Eowyn arrives with Faramir in tow, Jack has drained a fair share of the brandy from the flagon. Not out of nervousness, but more because it feels like it's been ages since he's had anything harder than wine after winding up at Minas Tirith.

His gaze slips up to them as the door is shut, watching as she sets the key aside then leads Faramir over to the bed. He'd been uncertain as to whether or not she'd actually come tonight; even if Eowyn had shown interest in the idea, Faramir might've not been as keen on it. He's pleased, then, to see that they're here.

Once she addresses him, Jack kicks his feet off from the table he's seated at, sliding to stand with a glass of the brandy in hand and a smile curling at his mouth. "O' course." It's not hard to sense the nervousness in the air between them, but that's to be expected. He moves to where Faramir is at first, pressing the glass into the man's hand. "Helps soothe the nerves, if you find need of it."

Then Jack smoothly maneuvers to Eowyn, palms coming to rest onto her hips so that he can steer her to face Faramir. Once that's done, his hand rises to gather her hair and pull it over one shoulder, and his lips press warm to the exposed curve of her neck. Jack lifts his head a little, then, leaning to murmur into her ear, "Undress him."

[shieldofrohan]

For once, it doesn't rankle too badly to be told what to do. Éowyn nods, one hand coming down for a moment to cover Jack's before she pulls away, dropping to one knee in front of her husband. What she says to him is not meant for Jack, and he likely won't be able to understand it - it's in another tongue, low and serious.

Faramir sets his glass aside without drinking, and his hand traces the side of her neck where Jack kissed. He answers in the same tongue, eyes meeting hers, his tone firmer than hers. But he smiles as he says it, so it probably isn't anything too bad. As Éowyn starts to unlace his jerkin and then his shirt, slow and unhurried, Faramir turns his attention to the pirate. For a moment, he just regards Jack, with something between suspicion and concern and thoughtfulness, and then he beckons him closer.

"You would not have me be the only one so bared?" There's a hint of something like humour in his tone, albeit taut and dry.

He helps Éowyn by pulling his shirt off over his head, looking back down at her as she leans in, hands resting on his lithe brown chest, to kiss the scar at the base of his ribs. There's an air of ritual to it, of familiarity. Faramir smiles, touching her shoulder, and looks back up at Jack with one eyebrow raised.

[drinkupmehearties]

That draws a roguish grin from him, and there's light humor to be found in his tone too. "Worry not." He follows this by tugging at the weathered shirt he wears, then strips it off from his body and drops it to the side. He sinks onto the bed alongside Faramir, skin prickling with the room's cool air and his proximity to the other man; with him now bared as well, Faramir will be able to see the scatterings of pink scars and tattoos that mar the pirate's own tanned torso.

His fingers come to ghost over Faramir's bicep, and he's briefly reminded how much rougher a man's skin is to a woman's softer touch. Then that same hand trails a path downward, to touch across Faramir's forearm and gently draw the other man's hand to the buttons on Jack's breeches. He shifts to lean back just a little, angling his hips to give easier access.

"If you kindly would." He's taking a slower approach for time being, gauging Faramir's mood and response in the meanwhile. He'd gotten the sense that this may be quite new territory for him, and didn't want to overwhelm him too quickly -- particularly after the looks Faramir had just given him.

Then his gaze shifts to Eowyn, and once she's undone Faramir's trousers, Jack indicates with a gesture for her to join them.

[shieldofrohan]

Faramir hesitates a moment, but only a moment. Then his fingers are working deftly at the fastenings of Jack's breeches, his air brisk and rather business-like. He isn't shy of male nudity - after all, he's a soldier, and has spent a lot of time sharing close confines with his men - but in this context, it all feels very different. He's afraid, frankly: afraid that this is shameful, that it is dishonourable, that anything they must keep so secret is, perhaps, something that ought not to be.

Éowyn rises from her knees in front of him, folding his trousers over one arm to set them aside, and ghosts her hand against his thigh, and Faramir does his best to focus on this moment, this act. Clearing his throat, he unfastens the last button and helps Jack off with his breeches, mimicking Éowyn in folding them neatly before he puts them aside.

For her part, Éowyn smooths her skirt and sits down on Faramir's other side, determined to make him the centre of things. Her free hand rests on his leg, fingertips tracing lightly over the lighter skin of his inner thigh. As she reaches up to unfasten her own dress, though, it's Jack she looks to for guidance in the next step.

[drinkupmehearties]

Beyond the occasional bout with crewmates at brothels, Jack's own familiarity with male nudity has been similar to Faramir's experience; there isn't much privacy in the tight quarters of a ship that's been out at sea for months. But he can tell by the stiffer, reserved manner of Faramir's movements that there's an uneasiness there.

Jack shifts his weight on the bed, aiding him in sliding off his breeches. It's intriguing, the way the two both neatly fold and set aside the clothing; he's always been more used to stripping clothes off and heedlessly casting it all aside to get down to business.

He catches the look that Eowyn gives him, the flutter of her hand to her dress, and answers it with a low, heavy voice, "Take it off. Then I want you to kiss him." The hope is to keep Faramir's focus on Eowyn for the moment, perhaps even loosen him up a little -- particularly as Jack leans a tad closer to him and palms a hand onto the hard, muscled plane of his thigh.

"If you'd rather all the attention come from your lovely wife, we can have it done that way. I can busy meself in other ways. If not ... " His hand massages on his thigh, drifting gradually upward.