What/where: Universe A, The reuniting of Eamyre with Gramsael and Laerion with his sister! And Renweardwen's hair. <3
When: A few nights ago!
Renweardwen sighed and set her cup aside, then dug in her pack for a wooden comb. She pulled some of her hair over her shoulder and began working the comb through it with extreme idleness,
almost wishing she didn't have to do this while traveling, but finding comfort in it nonetheless.
Laeri watches her for some time, with hunger only BARELY hidden in her eyes. At long last, she rises, walking over to Renweardwen and sitting behind her. 'Here, I will comb the back for you, if you wish.'
Renweardwen was a little surprised, but very glad, and handed the comb to Laeriel. "Oh, please." She was very grateful, and sounded somewhat tired. "This time has been very strange for me--I am used to living with many women."
Laeriel nods as she starts working the comb through Ren's hair, noting the tangles and working through them with gentle fingers. 'My mother's hair, is this long. She would comb mine out, and then I would comb hers.'
Renweardwen relaxed immediately, all of the harshness of her airs disappearing. They were combed away. The feeling put her in a familiar mood, and it reminded her of home, and family, and people that she was safe around.
She sighed. "If you wish, I am glad to comb yours as well." Women have to take care of each other, you know.
Laeri's fingers work through the next clump of hair, like an expert. She nods, 'I have not had a good hair combing in some time. Your brother is terrible at it.'
Gramsael laughs, walking up, 'I am not that bad! It is usually after I have made your hair a mess.'
Laeri stops her combing and smacks her hand against her face.
Renweardwen instantly tensed again and gave Gramsael the dirtiest look she had given him since she found him.
Laeriel sighs, 'It was not necessary to say something like that,' she shoots Gramsael a reproachful look.
Renweardwen began to turn red, but not from anger, and she did not look at Gramsael.
The man shrugged, sitting down across from them and giving them a jolly grin, 'I have not seen your hair down like this, in a long while, little sister.'
Laeriel picks up the combing where she left off. It does Renweardwen no good to go about with a head of only half-combed hair.
"I became tired of it this way all the time because of the road," she said, still not looking at him, the subtle harshness fighting to maintain itself in her against Laeriel's combing.
"At home I can wear it down. I cannot on the road."
'It can be used against you,' He replies, nodding his head as if that settles that. Gramsael looks around, uneasy. Something is bothering him.
Laeriel shoots him a look, 'My ... this is going to sound odd, but I can just sense these things. My brother is in some kind of trouble. Injured, I think.'
'I worry, for Eamyre.' Gram's voice is almost forlorn, years of guilt and anger and sadness just etched in it. It's a little odd, almost, coming from this usually happy man.
Renweardwen looked to the both of them, apparently taking issue with their worry. "Then we will go find them both," she said matter-of-factly, as if someone had just asked her something very simple.
She was, of course, not as simple as her words ever were. "Worrying will not find them."
Laeriel turns her face back to Ren's hair, taking a small amount of guilty delight in how soft it was, how golden. It was mostly to distract her from the edge in Gramsael's voice, the tone of which made her worry all the more.
'The closest big town is Bree. It is actually known, for its archives, and for its one inn, the Prancing Pony. If I were a youngling unused to travel - as your cousin is - I would bid to stop there.'
Gramsael nodded his head, 'I think perhaps that would be a wise idea.'
Laeri finishes the combing, then seperates Ren's hair into three separate strands, braiding them into long coils. 'I will braid them and secure them better for you, so that your hair does not come undone when you fight.'
Aww. Gramsael looks proud.
'We go to this Bree-town, soon?'
As irritated as Renweardwen wanted to be, she felt very comforted, and a little melted at all of the hair-combing. "Thank you," she told Laeriel. She then looked to her brother. "Bree it is," she said with an affirmative nod.
Laeriel secured the last of the hairpins with an expert twitch. 'I can have the camp packed and the fire doused within seconds.' And she begins to do so!
Renweardwen finds herself wishing she could nap instead now, after Laeriel's expert hair-combing. But instead she does her share of the packing.
Gramsael prepares his horse, and the few things he had with him.
Laeriel announces she's ready by heading out. She doesn't even bother to look behind her. She just really, really wants to get there as quickly as possible.
Gram hauls his sister onto his horse, and then leads him along behind him, and after Laeriel. Silly womens.
Renweardwen does not like being hauled by anybody, but if she must be hauled, she would prefer it be by Gramsael.
The trip to Bree takes several hours, and when they reach it dusk has begun to settle. They are stopped by the guard at the gate.
Laeriel looks down at the guard, lowering her hood. 'I am Laeriel, Lady of Minas Tirith, and my business here is to search through your archives. I also seek my brother.' She has a way of speaking. It's authoritative, but not pushy.
Renweardwen has long known to let her elder relatives speak, so she does not address the guard, but decides to look important and serious instead.
The guard tilts his head, looking between the three. Two women and a man, but with some of the brigands lately recruiting women-folk, one could never be too careful,
'Been some problems 'round here lately, Lady. Best be watchin' yourself - stockade wouldn't suit you, nor would the cemetary.'
Laeriel nods, 'These Riders of Rohan have been escorting me. We have met our share of troubles, on the journey here.'
Renweardwen is stoic and impressive. Who knows what kind of things she can make the guard think about Rohirrim.
Or, at least, she does her best at being stoic and impressive. At eighteen.
Then, as an afterthought, Laeriel glances at the guard and asks, 'Can you give me details, of your recent troubles?'
The man spoke of the Burning of Archet, and of brigands troubline the outskirts and the neighboring towns.
He also spoke of a fight at the Prancing Pony.
Gram stays silent, knowing damn well he'll only get them in trouble if he opens his mouth.
Yeah, because Rennie might pinch him.
Laeriel raises her eyebrows as she hears about the Pony, 'I was going to stay there, at the Pony. Has the issue been resolved? Can you tell me anything more?'
'A man was slain,' He replies. 'The other involved was allowed to go free.'
'So then the man slain was one that was committing a crime foul enough to need no judgement,' Laeriel whispered.
The guard nodded his head.
'Move along now, before I change my mind.' He waved them in.
And so they do!
Laeriel instantly makes for the Pony. 'I want to know more, and it IS an inn. We can sleep there, get a bath.'
Gramsale nods, 'We will share a room - it will save money.' He gives Laeriel an apologetic look.
Laeriel only nods and kicks her horse to go faster. She has a feeling! Her brother is there!
Renweardwen would have been glad for this before, but now was not so sure she wanted to be in a room with that much frustration hanging in the air.
Oh, who was Renweardwen kidding? She would love to stay in a room with that much frustration hanging in the air. Muahahah!
Gram gets them a room.
Laeriel turns to Butterbur. 'I hear someone was killed here recently?'
The man stammers a bit, 'Yes, yes. All sorts of strange business, of late.'
'Please, I am looking for a someone, and I would very much like to know who this one is that died so that I can see if it was him. Can you give me more details?'
'One-one of our patrons, a man from the south. He killed another man who was attacking a lady guest!' Butterbur sounds downright insulted, that such a thing could occur!
Laeriel arches a brow. 'Did the south man look like me a bit? Was the other man rohirric at all? The lady, did she have blonde hair?'
((Renweardwen goes to bathe and curl into bed. ))
He nods, 'Striking resemblence to you, yes...'
'Laerion,' she says, nodding.
'That's the name!'
Laeriel eyes Gramsael, then turns to Butterbur again, 'The woman, did you see her? Or her attacker? Sorry, I know it is busy, it is just that he, also, is missing a friend, a female one.' She passes him a few coins for his trouble.
The man pocketed the coins and nods, 'A blonde lady, yes. She has taken ill, I believe.'
'Eamyre?' she hazards, eyeing Gram, then Butterbur.
'I think so? We get so many, of late. An Eamyre, a Haladreth, a Laerion..a dozen others!'
'Where are they staying!?'
'I'm not sure I should give that to you..'
'he is my twin brother! And Eamyre, I know we want to check on her, to make sure she is alright.' Laeriel sounds a bit paniced.
Gramsael calmly picks the poor man up and looks him in the eyes, 'Where are they. Please.'
Barliman stammers out the room.
And Gramsael puts him down.
Laeriel nods, and heads up the stairs at a run.
Gramsael is not far behind her!
Laeri runs down the corridor, trying to find the room as quickly as possible. There are tears in her eyes, she's missed her brother that much.
And she's also worried about Eamyre.
Laerion is sitting up in his chair, rubbing his forehead.
She finds him and INSTANTLY pounces him. 'LAERION!'
'Laeriel?!' He looks shocked!
Avarian is not here, she's still sleeping in a bed somewhere.
Haladreth is sleeping next to Eamyre.
Gramsael glances in, his eyes falling on Eamyre, and he utters a curse.
Eamyre is staring blankly at the wall. She hasn't moved since ... well, they put her there, really.
Most of the side of her face is bruised from that guy.
Laeriel just clings and clings to Laerion, crying without any shame at all. 'Bema but I have missed you!' She's hugging him with Gramsael!Hugs!
'Bema..?' Laerion looks confused. He's hugging her back though, so tight. Gramsael finds his voice, 'Eamyre!'
Laeriel looks at Gram, and then the blonde on the bed, and frowns, turning back to Laerion 'How bad is it?'
Eamyre is feeling incredibly withdrawn and it takes her a few moments to even register that someone's shouting her name. She just shakes her head.
Silently, Laerion disentangles himself from his sister, and picks Haladreth up. The woman whimpers a bit, but lets go of Eamyre
- she recongizes Laerion's smell and cuddles against him. He walks out, giving Gram a 'fix her' look. Then nods for his sister to follow.
Laeriel frowns, torn between wanting to be there for Gram, wanting to make sure Eamyre was alright, wanting to know who the - incredibly beautiful and exotic looking - dark woman was that her brother is carrying is.
.... she finally sighs, and follows Laerion out.
Laerion walks into another room, and sets Haladreth down in the bed. The woman sits up, yawning, going from sleepycuddlecute to reserved and solemn in the process.
Gramsael sits on the bed. He reaches for Eamyre, then drops his hand, 'Eamyre, min freond, min engel, min leof. I am here!'
Laeriel takes a seat and tries not to stare. At Haladreth. She turns to Laerion instead, 'You killed someone!'
He sums it up, 'He would have raped her.'
Haladreth nods her head, 'I only wish it had been I.'
Eamyre finally reaches out her hand for him, fixing him with her eyes. She absolutely does not trust her throat right now, but everything he needs to know is there. How tired she is. How she wants to give up. How she is broken -
But also how she loves him. And her sorrow, at losing him, losing the child he doesn't know about. And her fear.
He envelopes her into his arms, murmering that he's here, he's here!
Laeriel frowns, 'I bet he followed her from Rohan.' All the little pieces are starting to fall into place.
Eamyre buries her face against Gram's shoulder, taking in his scent, his warmth, his sheer presence. She still can't seem to break through the weight on her though, and merely leans against him, silently, allowing him to hug her.
'I believe so,' Laerion replies. Haladreth says nothing - She's studying Laeriel, and her mouth is so very dry.
Gram's voice is like breaking, 'I love you, I am so sorry.'
Eamyre lifts her face up to him. 'Gram...' her voice breaks, and she shakes her head, then winces, and presses her hand to her head.
'I love you,' He repeats. Over and over and over, just hugging her against him.
'You will not love me when you hear..' she sighs, 'Gram... I was.. It was not my fault, there were dark fell things..' she's mumbling and not making much sense. I think maybe she's feverish?
'What? Shh shh. It is okay.' He says it like if he keeps saying it it'll be true.
She takes his hand in hers, and puts it over her womb. Then looks up into his eyes with so much sorrow carved into them. At least they aren't half-dead anymore.
He stares at her, and starts to shake, and then buries his face into her hair and sobs. Broken, pained sobs.
She nods, NOW with half-dead eyes, and puts her arms around him, cradling him against her.
His fingers rub at her stomach, and he kisses her neck, 'Eamyre..I do not blame you..do not blame yourself.'
She gasps, like his lips are fire that are capable of bringing her back to life, and closes her eyes, leaning more heavily against him, 'So much... I am just so tired, Gram, so very tired.'
'I am here. I am here,' He whispers, pulling back and cupping her face. 'Let..me..please let me. Let me be here for you.'
Eamyre leans against his touch. How could she have ever ignored this touch? How could she have ever denied what this touch was capable of doing to her?
'I am sorry, I am so very sorry,' she whispers, looking into his eyes. Tears are starting to well up and roll down her cheeks, 'For putting you through all this, you should never have to be put through any of this....'
'I love you, and I would go through it again, with you, and for you.'
'I am here for you. Here for you!'
'Gram..' she whispers, again, her voice breaking into a ragged sob. The weight of repressed emotion that had lingered over her completely breaks..
and she reaches for him, clinging to him and wailing, and pressing her face in against his shoulder.
He rubs her back, and rocks her, pouring his love and his respect for her through his hands.
She curls up in a little ball in his arms, and just lets herself feel, and break, and be vulnerable, for him, with him. Hoping he can fix her.
He slips into Rohirric, 'For you, I would die. For you, I would give everything.' And then he says nothing more, and just holds her.
'I love you,' she whispers, in between crying fits, clinging to him, 'Gramsael, I love you.' she says that louder, then breaks into another fit of tears, and tucks her head under his chin.
He smiles softly, through his sadness.
She cries herself out, until she's a pool of raw, exhausted emotion in his arms, and then curls in against him, and falls asleep.
He doesn't sleep. He watches her.
She doesn't have nightmares. For the first time since the last time she slept in his arms.