for ashfae
Aug. 18th, 2019 09:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shieldofrohanTheir tryst in the training arena has done much to cheer Éowyn, and to lift her black mood. As the days pass, she rises back to herself, no longer so snappish or so withdrawn, and so she can hardly deny that Faramir's intervention was an unmitigated good - even if the bruises and scratches he left have lingered, too obvious to be entirely comfortable in public. She leaves Ithilien for a time, returns to the Houses of Healing and her work there, and slips back into their more ordinary life - but it is not forgotten.
There is, she comes to realise, an imbalance. That is what nags at her - not really a serious problem, but something that plays at the back of her mind, now as a joke, now as a half-formed plan. By the time she comes back to Ithilien, to their own bedchambers and their own home, it is solid in her mind.
So it is that when Faramir returns to their chambers that night, he will find Éowyn waiting for him. She rises to her feet as soon as he approaches, smiling at him - a smile that is warm and teasing, and yet one that shows behind it a hint of the steel in her, a sharpness that is almost vicious - and crossing from the bed over to him. She is fully-dressed, but there is a sensuality to the way she moves that makes it entirely clear what her intentions are, as much so as if she had been waiting for him naked on the bed; as she reaches up to wind her arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss, her fingers twist in his hair and her body presses up close.
"How goes it, husband?" There is a laugh in her voice, a low burr of humour and of invitation. "Did you not miss your lady?"
There is, she comes to realise, an imbalance. That is what nags at her - not really a serious problem, but something that plays at the back of her mind, now as a joke, now as a half-formed plan. By the time she comes back to Ithilien, to their own bedchambers and their own home, it is solid in her mind.
So it is that when Faramir returns to their chambers that night, he will find Éowyn waiting for him. She rises to her feet as soon as he approaches, smiling at him - a smile that is warm and teasing, and yet one that shows behind it a hint of the steel in her, a sharpness that is almost vicious - and crossing from the bed over to him. She is fully-dressed, but there is a sensuality to the way she moves that makes it entirely clear what her intentions are, as much so as if she had been waiting for him naked on the bed; as she reaches up to wind her arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss, her fingers twist in his hair and her body presses up close.
"How goes it, husband?" There is a laugh in her voice, a low burr of humour and of invitation. "Did you not miss your lady?"
