For drinkupmehearties

[shieldofrohan]

It's been a month. A month of waking from dreams of the Capitol, of clinging to Faramir as though he may vanish any moment. He doesn't understand it, she can see it in his eyes. Why would he? For him, no time has passed. For him, she slept one night and had a vivid dream, and although he is the last to deny the importance of dreams, he cannot understand the importance of this one. He cannot understand a year of being imprisoned, to a heart that so longs to be free.

She's stopped talking to him about it. It hurts too much to see him try and fail to understand, see him straining to put himself in her shoes when he has no frame of reference. She lets herself believe it was a dream, and the memories are already fading a little, leaving only the dull ache of a remembered hurt. She dreams of Arya and Firo and Roland, the family she made for herself far away.

She goes back to work. In the Houses of Healing, she tends to broken bones and minor hurts, and tries not to remember a place where they could all be healed with the push of a button. She applies herself to learning, spends night and day in study, and when she is not studying, she rides, and when she is not riding, she seeks Faramir out, and holds him close as if she can make up for a year of his absence in a few weeks.

It's been a month. It turns out it's also been a week since two ships clashed off the shores of Gondor, a trading vessel and a corsair. She knows a little of this through her husband, but it isn't strange enough to pique her interest, not even when she hears it had black sails. The corsairs of Umbar have black sails, and there are enough of them still on the seas to make it unremarkable. But when the corsair captain is brought to Minas Tirith, and Faramir orders him taken to the cells to await the King's return... Éowyn only catches a glimpse of him as he passes, but a glimpse is enough.

As soon as her work in the Houses of Healing is done, she hurries to the cells. They are better-appointed than what Jack will be used to, probably; furnished sparsely but with care, and scrupulously clean. Gondor treats its enemies well, when it can afford to.

Éowyn sweeps in, gowned in white with her hair pinned under a cloth, and with a few brisk words compels the guard to let her into Jack's cell. The door closes behind her, and for a moment, she can't find a single word to say.

Comments

[shieldofrohan]

"I know not. Nor what may have become of your crew." She shakes her head, looking up at the ceiling as though the answers might be written there. "I doubt they will have broken it, if that is your fear. Why waste a good vessel? If I were to guess, I should imagine they will take it to the shipyards, fit it with the colours of Gondor, and set it on the waves again." There's a certain dryness to her look. "Then again, as you may remember, I am no mariner. I will ask the King, when next I see him."

[drinkupmehearties]

"They're a stalwart bunch, my men." Hopefully, at least. Jack knew that they'd been in much worse, much more dire situations in the past. They could hold their own. And it wouldn't be the first time someone had taken his beloved ship and outfitted her to their liking, then sailed away with her.

"O' course, I'm aware of that." He catches the dry look she gives. "Is there still some grievance you hold against me, from before? I know we didn't part on the most amiable terms."

[shieldofrohan]

"I am not prone to forgiveness," she says. Then, with a little sigh, "Yes. Yes, I was angry then, and I am angry now. You would sooner save your own skin than hold to some more noble cause. That is grievance enough."

She looks down at her hands, worn with work, and frowns. "Yet what you did was no more or less than most men would have done. I knew that even then. I was..." A deep breath. "I was frightened. And frustrated, and angry. You were not the cause of it, and I ought not to hold it against you." Which is the closest you're going to get to an apology, Jack, and even that clearly cost her a lot of effort. Apologies, like feelings, are not Éowyn of Rohan's forte.

[drinkupmehearties]

The corner of his lip twitches a touch, his gaze briefly following Eowyn's down to her hands. He's a selfish bastard, certainly, but at least he's well aware of it. "Aye I would. And I would sooner not fight their bloody war for them, either. I hadn't ever asked to be involved in their damned mess."

After a moment, though, he sighs too, gaze returning to her face. "Nevertheless, still and all," He's waving his hand a little with this, "I'd wager you had just cause to be angry. And frustrated." And that's probably about as close to an apology Jack could muster himself.

[shieldofrohan]

She's quiet for a long moment. Then she nods, and reaches over to touch his arm. "It is in the past," she says, as much to herself as to him. "In the past, and in another land. And there it ought to stay."

It isn't forgiveness - as she said, forgiveness has never come so easily to her. But it's something. It's an admission that she ought to forgive, that she'll try to. She recognises his half-apology, and what it costs to make it, just as she hopes he recognised hers.

"I will speak to my husband," she says after a moment longer, letting go of his arm, "and to the King. If aught can be fairly done to see you freed, I will do it."

[drinkupmehearties]

"Rightly so." He had indeed recognized it; it's perhaps the only reason he'd made an attempt at it himself. And dwelling on the past, dwelling on what had happened in that wretched place, isn't something that Jack plans to do.

When she speaks again, he gives an appreciative flash of a smile. "You're a doll, luv. I appreciate it, truly." He can only hope that it'd be enough to get him out of this new mess. But if not, and in the meanwhile, he'd be working out a backup plan or two.

Did you plurk me about this? I feel like you did, but I can't find it.

[shieldofrohan]

She hesitates a moment before answering the smile. "If I were you," she says, her voice a little lower now, "I would hold off calling me love. There are those here who might take it amiss, and it is not only the hurt we did each other I would leave in the past."

She knows that wasn't how he meant it - but she knows, too, that if questions are raised by how he speaks, she will feel obliged to answer them honestly. And she isn't at all sure she can stomach hurting Faramir that way, for all her intentions of being honest with him.

i did indeed, would pm be better

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack pauses, briefly, considering, then taps a couple fingers to his temple.

"Fair enough, then. That might be wise." It's more habit than anything else, but he's willing to do anything, honestly, if it'd better his chances at making it out alive in this situation.

[shieldofrohan]

She nods, standing. "I will visit again," she assures him, tucking her hair back. "Tomorrow, if I can. When I have spoken with Faramir - and with the King and Queen, if they have the time to spare."

She would be lying if she said there wasn't a certain savage satisfaction in leaving him in a prison, the way he left her the last time they spoke. But she does her best not to feel that satisfaction. Leave it in the past, where it belongs. "If you wish, I will ask what became of your crew."

[drinkupmehearties]

It's certainly hard not to be mindful of the parallel; that satisfaction she'd feel, he'd surmise to himself, would probably be deserved. That was usually the case when it came to him. But Jack nods in return, pulling himself back onto the bed to stretch out and recline like he'd been before she'd come in.

"That'd be lovely if you could. Haven't heard a peep from the guards about 'em since I got here." No doubt Gibbs, provided he'd been locked in the same cells, would be keeping the crews' spirits up. The man had a knack for making even the worst of torments bearable with those stories of his.

Jack adjusts his hat back down over his eyes, crossing his ankles, then adds, "Good night and good morrow, Eowyn."