"I do not think it," Éowyn says, after a moment long enough to consider whether that is true. It is difficult to know what to make of Mercutio, who is so unlike anyone she has met before (for even the merriest of the Rohirrim are tempered by the grim sincerity of their condition), but there must be some weight beneath the levity. And in the end, whatever else may be at play, they saved one another's lives on the road. That must count for something, even for the unserious.
The reminder of it settles something within her, too, reminding her that if there is anyone she can trust in this new land, it is the woman across from her. Her hand rests for a moment against her side, where the cut has settled into a still-livid scar that aches at times, a further reminder. They are tied by blood, as well as marriage. That counts for something, too.
"I will give you my pardon, if you will give me yours. If you make too merry, then I am too solemn, and it comes to the same end, in a way." She sets down her cup, pushing her hair back, and meets Mercutio's eyes. "I am... not wholly glad to be married into exile. But I am glad it is you." I think.
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sforzinda
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Date: 2025-05-30 03:32 pm (UTC)The reminder of it settles something within her, too, reminding her that if there is anyone she can trust in this new land, it is the woman across from her. Her hand rests for a moment against her side, where the cut has settled into a still-livid scar that aches at times, a further reminder. They are tied by blood, as well as marriage. That counts for something, too.
"I will give you my pardon, if you will give me yours. If you make too merry, then I am too solemn, and it comes to the same end, in a way." She sets down her cup, pushing her hair back, and meets Mercutio's eyes. "I am... not wholly glad to be married into exile. But I am glad it is you." I think.