Now it is Galinda's turn to blush, cheeks heating as Éowyn turns to look at her. She had thought she was being a little more subtle, hiding her concern beneath a blanket of politeness, and - well, it is too late now. She bites at her lip, then straightens her back and meets the young queen's gaze.
"You must call me Galinda," she says, "if you will be Éowyn; it is hardly fair, otherwise." It feels a little like an offer of something more; not a truce, for they are not enemies, but perhaps a pact to forget, for a little while, what has brought them both here and the gulf that has separated their lives. Galinda knows, at least in theory, that she has been carefully coddled and protected; Éowyn has grown up rapidly, lost all her family, and become reluctant wife to an usurper all in a few years. Those years are the space between them, and Galinda can hardly imagine surviving all that Éowyn has in so short a time.
Reminding herself firmly that the other woman is, after all, flesh and blood as she says, Galinda reaches out to take up the soap again and rub it between her hands. It very quickly forms a soft foam, and she can let it fall and set her hands on Éowyn's shoulders. They are stronger than any other woman's she's touched, much closer to some of the younger warriors, and yet Éowyn's skin is soft and smooth beneath her hands. Galinda has been taught how to help ease some of the aches and pains a fighting man tends to feel, and she supposes that Éowyn is after all a fighting woman - and so, with a quiet breath in, she presses her thumbs a little harder into the muscles of Éowyn's shoulders, rolling them in circles as she's been taught.
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sforzinda
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Date: 2025-06-21 02:30 pm (UTC)"You must call me Galinda," she says, "if you will be Éowyn; it is hardly fair, otherwise." It feels a little like an offer of something more; not a truce, for they are not enemies, but perhaps a pact to forget, for a little while, what has brought them both here and the gulf that has separated their lives. Galinda knows, at least in theory, that she has been carefully coddled and protected; Éowyn has grown up rapidly, lost all her family, and become reluctant wife to an usurper all in a few years. Those years are the space between them, and Galinda can hardly imagine surviving all that Éowyn has in so short a time.
Reminding herself firmly that the other woman is, after all, flesh and blood as she says, Galinda reaches out to take up the soap again and rub it between her hands. It very quickly forms a soft foam, and she can let it fall and set her hands on Éowyn's shoulders. They are stronger than any other woman's she's touched, much closer to some of the younger warriors, and yet Éowyn's skin is soft and smooth beneath her hands. Galinda has been taught how to help ease some of the aches and pains a fighting man tends to feel, and she supposes that Éowyn is after all a fighting woman - and so, with a quiet breath in, she presses her thumbs a little harder into the muscles of Éowyn's shoulders, rolling them in circles as she's been taught.