Later, I awakened to find Éowyn asleep next to me, her soft breaths
caressing my shoulder as she lay upon her side, lips slightly parted, and I
smiled to see her so at ease. We were lying upon the blanket, both of us
covered by my cloak, as those had been the only sizeable scraps of fabric
remaining that had not been completely doused in water. I watched her
sleep, and I sighed in contentment, wondering why we did not do this more
often.
But I knew the answer, of course. It was my fault, for I have the most tiresome tendency of becoming too enthralled in my work, to the point of failing to notice all else, even my family on occasion. But Éowyn always manages to bring me back to reality somehow, although not always as gently as she did today, for I had deserved much less from her than had I received, and I was grateful for every second of our time together.
I turned onto my side and, resting on one elbow, I allowed myself a single, long, stirring caress. Starting at her head, I gently raked my fingers through the damp, tangled tresses, then advanced to the exquisite curve of her cheekbone before dipping into the enchanting hollow between neck and shoulder. I dragged my index finger down the soft flesh of her inner arm and traced her narrow, graceful wrist.
She had wakened by the time I reached her hand, and she caught my fingers in her own and raised them to her lips. Soft as rose petals, her kisses brushed each of my fingers in turn, while her shining grey eyes clung to mine and sent silent, glowing messages. At last, I moved over her and tasted her lips which were sweeter than honey.
"Faramir?" she murmured against my lips.
I groaned and tried to keep her from talking by kissing her all the more. But she was having none of it and pushed me back. I growled at her.
"Are you not hungry, love?" she asked innocently.
I lowered my head once again, kissing her delicate earlobe. "Indeed, I am hungry, Éowyn," I whispered earnestly between kisses. "Please, let me assuage it." But she laughingly pushed me away again. "Please?"
"Faramir, this was supposed to be a time for lunch, but we have eaten very little." She reached over and pulled the basket of food closer to us.
I sighed in exasperation and rested my forehead upon the blanket next to her head for just a moment before I rolled over onto my back to await her next move.
"What would my lord like to eat first?" she asked, sitting up.
I waved my hand in dismissal, and I sat as well. "It matters not, wife." Éowyn poured two cups of ale and offered one to me, before raising her cup in a toast.
"To Faramir, the most patient man in the world. I love you, husband."
Murmuring my thanks to her, I modestly lowered my eyes as she drained her cup. Then I offered my own toast.
"To Éowyn, the most lovely woman that I know. I love you more than I shall ever be able to tell you, but I shall never stop trying." I drained my own cup, and she kissed me on the cheek.
"It occurs to me, Faramir," she said at length, as she nibbled upon some bread and cheese, offering me small bites in between, "that we shall look a mess in our sodden clothing when we return to the house. In fact, I have managed to lose one of my slippers in yonder pool," she laughed.
I joined her in her mirth. "Never mind, lady, I shall see you home safely. Perhaps we shall not be noticed."
"I think not, Faramir," she said, caressing my arm, "for we have Windfola here, and he shall have need of Sanor when we arrive."
"Nonsense. I can curry Windfola as well as Sanor can!"
Her flirtatious expression returned as she looked me up and down. "I hope that you might allow me to watch, my lord."
"Of course! I would have it no other way, Éowyn." I rose and strode to the pool, hoping to find Éowyn's slipper before it was time to depart this place.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'Sexy' is not a word bandied about in Gondorian society as a rule. In fact, most people of Gondor blush to hear the word. I know because, without realizing, I said it one time at a dinner party, in reference to my husband, and I thought that several of the ladies, and a few of the men there might swoon from it. But I suppose that is to be expected in a society where married people generally have separate bed chambers, and at the very least, separate beds. My husband and I do not. The Steward of Gondor and his untamed Rohirric wife are often the subject of gossip, which is sometimes annoying, but generally I find it quite amusing, and my husband pays no attention at all to it.
I wondered what those tongue-waggers would say if they could see their steward now, padding unselfconsciously across the mossy ground, without a stitch of clothing upon his finely-sculptured body, before he dove into the pool to find his wife's misplaced shoe. I downed another cup of ale before I stood up and awaited his return.
It was not long before he emerged, my errant slipper in his hand, though I hardly noticed it, so enraptured by him was I. I looked at him as if for the first time. Raven black hair, glistening with moisture, clung to a strong brow. Ebony lashes framed his flashing grey eyes. A perfect nose, wide cheekbones, a square jaw, and a full, sensuous mouth add to the features of the man that I love above all others.
Though lean, his body is beautifully formed, his chest, shoulders and arms all well-muscled from years of practice with a bow. His smile revealed a flawless sparkle of white teeth, and when he stepped onto the shore, the ripple of well-defined muscle down his belly stole my breath away, and he laughed then to know that he held such power over me.
I awaited him impatiently, and he slowly approached me, his eyes growing darker with desire with every step he took. When he was at last close enough, I entwined my fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth down upon mine. With a contented sigh, he gently lowered me onto the blanket, and we made love until the sun was low in the sky.
But I knew the answer, of course. It was my fault, for I have the most tiresome tendency of becoming too enthralled in my work, to the point of failing to notice all else, even my family on occasion. But Éowyn always manages to bring me back to reality somehow, although not always as gently as she did today, for I had deserved much less from her than had I received, and I was grateful for every second of our time together.
I turned onto my side and, resting on one elbow, I allowed myself a single, long, stirring caress. Starting at her head, I gently raked my fingers through the damp, tangled tresses, then advanced to the exquisite curve of her cheekbone before dipping into the enchanting hollow between neck and shoulder. I dragged my index finger down the soft flesh of her inner arm and traced her narrow, graceful wrist.
She had wakened by the time I reached her hand, and she caught my fingers in her own and raised them to her lips. Soft as rose petals, her kisses brushed each of my fingers in turn, while her shining grey eyes clung to mine and sent silent, glowing messages. At last, I moved over her and tasted her lips which were sweeter than honey.
"Faramir?" she murmured against my lips.
I groaned and tried to keep her from talking by kissing her all the more. But she was having none of it and pushed me back. I growled at her.
"Are you not hungry, love?" she asked innocently.
I lowered my head once again, kissing her delicate earlobe. "Indeed, I am hungry, Éowyn," I whispered earnestly between kisses. "Please, let me assuage it." But she laughingly pushed me away again. "Please?"
"Faramir, this was supposed to be a time for lunch, but we have eaten very little." She reached over and pulled the basket of food closer to us.
I sighed in exasperation and rested my forehead upon the blanket next to her head for just a moment before I rolled over onto my back to await her next move.
"What would my lord like to eat first?" she asked, sitting up.
I waved my hand in dismissal, and I sat as well. "It matters not, wife." Éowyn poured two cups of ale and offered one to me, before raising her cup in a toast.
"To Faramir, the most patient man in the world. I love you, husband."
Murmuring my thanks to her, I modestly lowered my eyes as she drained her cup. Then I offered my own toast.
"To Éowyn, the most lovely woman that I know. I love you more than I shall ever be able to tell you, but I shall never stop trying." I drained my own cup, and she kissed me on the cheek.
"It occurs to me, Faramir," she said at length, as she nibbled upon some bread and cheese, offering me small bites in between, "that we shall look a mess in our sodden clothing when we return to the house. In fact, I have managed to lose one of my slippers in yonder pool," she laughed.
I joined her in her mirth. "Never mind, lady, I shall see you home safely. Perhaps we shall not be noticed."
"I think not, Faramir," she said, caressing my arm, "for we have Windfola here, and he shall have need of Sanor when we arrive."
"Nonsense. I can curry Windfola as well as Sanor can!"
Her flirtatious expression returned as she looked me up and down. "I hope that you might allow me to watch, my lord."
"Of course! I would have it no other way, Éowyn." I rose and strode to the pool, hoping to find Éowyn's slipper before it was time to depart this place.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'Sexy' is not a word bandied about in Gondorian society as a rule. In fact, most people of Gondor blush to hear the word. I know because, without realizing, I said it one time at a dinner party, in reference to my husband, and I thought that several of the ladies, and a few of the men there might swoon from it. But I suppose that is to be expected in a society where married people generally have separate bed chambers, and at the very least, separate beds. My husband and I do not. The Steward of Gondor and his untamed Rohirric wife are often the subject of gossip, which is sometimes annoying, but generally I find it quite amusing, and my husband pays no attention at all to it.
I wondered what those tongue-waggers would say if they could see their steward now, padding unselfconsciously across the mossy ground, without a stitch of clothing upon his finely-sculptured body, before he dove into the pool to find his wife's misplaced shoe. I downed another cup of ale before I stood up and awaited his return.
It was not long before he emerged, my errant slipper in his hand, though I hardly noticed it, so enraptured by him was I. I looked at him as if for the first time. Raven black hair, glistening with moisture, clung to a strong brow. Ebony lashes framed his flashing grey eyes. A perfect nose, wide cheekbones, a square jaw, and a full, sensuous mouth add to the features of the man that I love above all others.
Though lean, his body is beautifully formed, his chest, shoulders and arms all well-muscled from years of practice with a bow. His smile revealed a flawless sparkle of white teeth, and when he stepped onto the shore, the ripple of well-defined muscle down his belly stole my breath away, and he laughed then to know that he held such power over me.
I awaited him impatiently, and he slowly approached me, his eyes growing darker with desire with every step he took. When he was at last close enough, I entwined my fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth down upon mine. With a contented sigh, he gently lowered me onto the blanket, and we made love until the sun was low in the sky.