"I like it as you say it," Galinda says - perhaps a little too quick, and the admission makes her cheeks heat again. But there is something in the way Éowyn's voice warms her name that she does indeed like, and she sees no harm in reassuring the other woman over something so small. "So you mustn't apologize to me."
And at least she can blame the words on how she flushes again when Éowyn makes that sound and arches back into her touch. Flustered, her hands stop moving for a moment, and it takes a solid effort for Galinda to remember herself and return to working her way down Éowyn's spine. She ought not to be admiring the strength in the other woman's body, the way her muscles move so smoothly, the softness of her skin, but knowing that doesn't make it so. Instead she swallows hard, and tries to train her eyes on the wall past Éowyn's head, only glancing down when her hands need to move a little more.
Éowyn is not alone in her wondering. This is, Galinda is beginning to feel, more like the start of a war than any kind of greeting between two courts; these men are here to fight their way through the Wormtongue's men and set Éowyn back on her throne. No one had mentioned that the situation could be so dire, and yet now that she looks back at it her father clearly had the thought that this would not be so easy as walking in and saluting the young queen. What, then, is a princess to do? She cannot command armies, cannot take the field of battle, has no idea how to cope with the rough living that war brings. Éowyn, she feels, is quite able to care for herself without any help - she has come this far, after all, without need of anyone to help her dress and bathe and choose her jewels.
Besides, she is starting to think that it might be rather difficult to help dress, and bathe, and all the other little intimate tasks of a lady-in-waiting, when you have just realised that your mistress is rather beautiful. Even bruised and battered, there is something about Éowyn that keeps drawing her eye, her attention. Galinda has no idea what to do about it - no idea even what she might want to do about it - but she can hardly refuse her help, after all, when it is so obviously Éowyn's right to be served.
"You will tell me, I hope, if you hurt?" is what she ends up with, pathetically weak against the things she perhaps ought to say, starting with if you make a sound like that again I don't know how I shall continue, and following with my father will avenge whatever wrong has been done you, and I wish I could promise the same of my own accord, or even you are quite the most fascinating woman I have ever known.
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sforzinda
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Date: 2025-06-30 05:59 am (UTC)And at least she can blame the words on how she flushes again when Éowyn makes that sound and arches back into her touch. Flustered, her hands stop moving for a moment, and it takes a solid effort for Galinda to remember herself and return to working her way down Éowyn's spine. She ought not to be admiring the strength in the other woman's body, the way her muscles move so smoothly, the softness of her skin, but knowing that doesn't make it so. Instead she swallows hard, and tries to train her eyes on the wall past Éowyn's head, only glancing down when her hands need to move a little more.
Éowyn is not alone in her wondering. This is, Galinda is beginning to feel, more like the start of a war than any kind of greeting between two courts; these men are here to fight their way through the Wormtongue's men and set Éowyn back on her throne. No one had mentioned that the situation could be so dire, and yet now that she looks back at it her father clearly had the thought that this would not be so easy as walking in and saluting the young queen. What, then, is a princess to do? She cannot command armies, cannot take the field of battle, has no idea how to cope with the rough living that war brings. Éowyn, she feels, is quite able to care for herself without any help - she has come this far, after all, without need of anyone to help her dress and bathe and choose her jewels.
Besides, she is starting to think that it might be rather difficult to help dress, and bathe, and all the other little intimate tasks of a lady-in-waiting, when you have just realised that your mistress is rather beautiful. Even bruised and battered, there is something about Éowyn that keeps drawing her eye, her attention. Galinda has no idea what to do about it - no idea even what she might want to do about it - but she can hardly refuse her help, after all, when it is so obviously Éowyn's right to be served.
"You will tell me, I hope, if you hurt?" is what she ends up with, pathetically weak against the things she perhaps ought to say, starting with if you make a sound like that again I don't know how I shall continue, and following with my father will avenge whatever wrong has been done you, and I wish I could promise the same of my own accord, or even you are quite the most fascinating woman I have ever known.