She-Is a SHREW
Who: Eowyn, Lady Faramir and Boromir What: Eowyn brings bras When: During the genderswap plot Rating: Pg-13 status: Complete
Eowyn had to see this with her own eyes. In fact she made a beeline for Faramir and Boromir’s place, getting out of her truck and all but running to the front door. She knocked. Loudly.
Boromir’s headache was at epic levels. He opened the door mid knock and was promptly the victim of Eowyn’s enthusiastic knocking of his chest. “Stop that, you feminist cow!”
“Dick,” Eowyn snapped. “Where’s your brother. Or sister. She’s a sister. I have to see this. I’ve always wanted a girlfriend. I mean, a friend who’s a girl.”
“Yes, I doubt you had many of those,” Boromir said, expression wary.
Faramir heard the loud knocking and the squabbling, and had come out of hiding. Whereas his hair had been growing out, now it was longer than before and there were other assets, that Faramir was simply trying to get used to living with. It was better to tell himself it was only for the time being. That was easier said than done, when even his voice sounded foreign to his own ears.
"I am a sister, if only temporarily," Faramir very calmly said, hoping to set his brother at ease. That too was difficult, when Faramir seemed to find this all very awkward. "This too shall pass, as all things eventually do. Just as it was, when we recently awoke to find ourselves much younger in age." There was a suddenly fond smile on Faramir's face. "It is good to see you again, Eowyn."
Eowyn whipped out a bag and held it out to Faramir. "I brought you bras."
Like it was some kind of peace offering. She held the bag out, awkwardly, eyes darting up and down Faramir. "You uh...make a handsome woman. I'm glad your brother is unaffected, he'd be hideous."
Boromir closed the door, and glared at Eowyn's back.
"I'd experiment with you," she announced, after another moment's thought. "If I was still curious."
But she wasn’t, not even a little. She still...liked him, as it were, but this was a wrench in the works.
"Oh, thank you." Faramir was really, honestly, very grateful that she had brought him those. Varda had brought clothes and a few things, but Faramir was a little disconcerted to find that the bras were a little...off. After heaving a grateful sigh of relief, the bag was awkwardly taken, and then hugged against the boobs that would soon be trying them on. "Alas, I would rather be myself, if that should ever come to pass. I am glad to see that you remain unchanged."
There was no mention of Boromir being a hideous woman. There was also no protesting it, either. That was probably why Faramir gave Boromir a glancing at, and a very sheepish smile.
Eowyn had a few sizes, and she hoped at least one would fit her. Him. Her. Whatever. She grinned at the silent agreement about the older man, and then dropped her hands to her sides. "Do you want help?"
Boromir's eyes narrowed. "HE DOES NOT NEED HELP! HE IS NOT AN INVALID!"
He was on to you, Eowyn. You wanted get your lesbian hands on Faramir!
"...given my brother's knee-jerk reaction, I think that I can manage it, on my own. You nonetheless have my gratitude even for offering," Faramir said, and took Eowyn's hand in his...no, her own...giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I fear that my brother may take further offense, should I accept. Although there is no offense that should be taken."
There was an exasperated look that girl!Faramir gave Boromir, just then, before stubborn!patiently saying, "If I am to stay this way, then we will all have to get used to that fact. The heart wants what it wants, and - for reasons I know not - I am drawn to Eowyn. That will forever be regardless of my gender. I need only time to grow accustomed to this, and then move forward. All will be well, in time."
Eowyn chewed her lip and then nodded at the other woman. She hoped she didn't stay that way. She was just starting to get over the idea that she was attracted to him. And wanted to kiss him. Again. Until they both ran out of breath. "If it comes to that I'm willing to reevaluate." Some things were universal. She'd dreamed, last night, of Aragorn passing into the paths of the dead, of pretending to be Dernhelm and the ride to Gondor.
Perhaps she was to meet them.
"As am I. Should it come to that, but I have hope yet that it will not." Faramir's smile was equally reassuring when he looked back to Eowyn again. And - maybe just to get his brother's goat 0.005% - Faramir leaned in and placed a kiss on Eowyn's face, still on her cheek but close enough that his lips met the corner of her mouth. "I will return, shortly. Try not to goad him over much, for I would hate for my brother to finally bust a blood vessel in his forehead."
Faramir finally, reluctantly, drew away from Eowyn, to retreat to the bedroom and try on some bras.
Eowyn watched him retreat, putting her hand on her cheek, like she was somehow more smitten. Not that it was because he was a girl, but because of who he was. It still shone through and made her weak all the way down to her toes.
Feeling weak made her want to run away but she didn’t want to give Boromir the satisfaction. Instead she sat on the couch, and the two had a glare off.
Meanwhile, in Faramir's room, there was the trying on of bras as fast as possible, because the silence might be worse than the yelling and loud between Eowyn and Boromir. For all he knew, they could be strangling one another. It was disconcerting enough, that Faramir found the best fit, as fast as possible, and tried to be patient with himself while doing so. That included feeling as though he had pretzel arms and the one time he twisted the material between the two cups, finding that out only after he had it on.
Soon, after great trial and tribulation, he made his way out of the bedroom with a bag of bras in tow, eyeing his brother and then his...he was sure it was his beloved, somehow. At least no murder had taken place, although the glares were murderous, between them.
"So. I think this one will work and affords the most comfort," Faramir announced. "And it pleases me to see you are both getting along better, in so much as you are not yelling at one another and shooting each other with paintballs in places better left unsaid."
Mostly, they aimed for the other's ass, with the intent to cause shame and pain. Siiiiiiiigh.
“You picked the pink one,” Boromir said, disdain and despair filling his voice. As though there were great woe that of all the ones that fit it had to be the pink one.
“Pink used to be a manly color before it got used to keep women down,” Eowyn pointed out, helpfully.
Faramir had put a earth toned colored tank top on over it, but the straps were showing. That was something he was really not used to, yet. What he was also not used to was breast adjustment while wearing a bra, and so one boob? Was higher than the other.
"What she said," Faramir added, also very helpfully. "If you think on it, Boromir? Pink was a derivative of red, and that was considered a more masculine color. But no one is expecting you to wear pink things. I am not bothered by wearing it."
Eowyn walked over to Faramir and started to help her fix the bra, giving her tips loudly enough to make Boromir cringe and cover his eyes like that was the most horrific thing he could imagine. He suddenly had the urge to build a treehouse with a no girls allowed sign.
“Salmon. Lets call it salmon. Eru kill me now.”
"Tis pink, and I do not think Eru has anything to do with it," Faramir said with a smile, because Varda was effected also. The smile was also a little bit because Eowyn was helping like that and also becaues it was...an interesting feeling, her being so close to him. It wouldn't have mattered what body he was in, since it was definitely attraction that was without the confines of gender. True, he still wished to progress slowly and see how the dreams were going to play out, but it was taking more and more willpower whenever she was near, to apply the brakes. In fact, even then, Faramir wasn't shying away from little touches of his hands over hers as she helped, and giving her secretive glances as he listened to those tips, repeating them softly under his breath so he wouldn't forget.
It was even hard to think of himself as female. If it wasn't temporary, if it lasted for weeks or months instead of days? Faramir knew that he would have to think of himself as herself. Sooner or later.
"Thank you," he whispered to Eowyn. "I would like to ask you to share another meal with me, sometime soon. If you are not opposed to doing so. I never know if it is good time to text you or if you are still feeling conflicted."
“Salmon.” Boromir folded his arms stubbornly. It was taking a great deal of willpower to not yank Faramir away from Eowyn.
And for that matter he was grateful he hadn’t run into male!Varda in person. He rather didn’t want to deal with a sudden crisis of ‘do I want to hit that?’ He was too old for that shit.
By the time Eowyn had gotten Faramir situated she was a little out of breath. Subtle touches and flirting glances and those eyes, that were deep grey wells she wanted to drown in. Bema, she felt like some sappy schoolgirl thinking that. “I...I’d like that.”
"I would like that very much, as well." Eowyn was very fair indeed, even if her will and her temper could be formidable. That was what Faramir liked so much about her. That, combined with the close quarters, did nothing to help in the breathiness department. It might take Boromir coming between them, because someone has zero problems with public displays of affection, no matter what timeline he is from or what body he is occupying.
Even though Faramir was moving a little closer to Eowyn, he had plenty of time to sigh out a mildly exasperated, "Salmon is actually pink, with a slight undercurrent of orange...."
And then Faramir's lips met Eowyn's in a consuming kiss, so that nothing more could be said.
Oh noes, Boromir. Girl on girl things in your abode. The horror of it all. What will you do.
She was fiery in nature and sometimes she thought her family should have had red hair, not blonde. In the dreams she knew a fiery haired maiden who served mead in one of the better taverns in Edoras. The woman was as temperamental as one would expect. Eowyn had just grown so weary by then.
She liked to think she knew better now. At least until Faramir's lips had crashed into her own. The first thing she decided, was that he still tasted the same. Softer, and smoother, and with this extra squish to his lips that was kind of nice. Those had all been parts she'd liked during her days when she'd been trying to figure herself out, but she'd never clicked with a woman enough to really enjoy it.
She could live with this if Faramir became stuck. At least this much. Anything more she only hoped she could.
Boromir stared, agape, as his brother in sister form snogged Eowyn. Right in front of him. And Eowyn made this sound inside her throat and he tore at his hair because that was hot but OME it was with his brother so EW.
If Eowyn had made a sound, then Faramir had responded in like kind, and there was a sound in response that was very girlish, indeed. Girlish and wanting more, which was why there was no immediate retreat. In fact, the kiss lingered on for much longer than Faramir originally intentioned , so there was plenty of time to experience the kiss from a different perspective, for both persons involved.
It was was probably even more infuriating when Faramir put an arm around Eowyn's waist, to pull her closer. It was profoundly NOT eww. It was profoundly GOOD. So much so, that Faramir had entirely forgotten that Boromir was present, at all.
Even Wyn had forgotten Boromir as present. As evidenced by a hand planted firmly on Faramir's firm, yet perfectly squishable butt. And squeezed. Hard. It felt like they'd done this before. And part of Eowyn wanted to pull away, just like she had wanted to last time. Because she hated the idea that anything was fated.
But it was so fucking hard.
Meanwhile, Boromir's face was turning the color of Faramir's bra.
Faramir's very pink bra. Which is pink. Not salmon. And in response to that butt squeeze, Faramir had pressed in closer against Eowyn, and there went one very pink bra strap, slipping down off a shoulder. And as the kiss continued, it was like a little banner of pink (not salmon!) win, being flown just to spite any naysayers.
It definitely punctuated a statement there, because Faramir made a longing 'mmm' noise that was muffled by the kiss. The kiss that was still very much in progress and showing no signs of slowing down. It's all Eowyn's fault for bum grabbing like that, since it only fueled what had been a slow, constant, and very smouldering fire in Faramir.
THE BRA IS SALMON. At least that's what Boromir would bellow if he could form coherent words, beyond the incandescent rage that was building to the boiling point.
Eowyn needed to breathe. She needed to breath badly but she didn't want to break the kiss because she knew it would be Bema knows how many days or weeks before she got to kiss him again. Or her again. Whatever it ended up being. Right now there was a furnace in her belly and she needed to let it burn.
"THAT IS ENOUGH!" It seemed like the pot boileth over, as Boromir let loose with the greatest bellow since the days of Middle-earth.
THE BRA IS PINK, BOROMIR. THERE IS NOT SO MUCH AS A UNDERCURRENT OF ORANGE TO IT, OK? ADMIT IT'S PINKNESS.
So much for eeking out the last shreds of the kiss before days or weeks set in. For, just like that, the glorious bubble had abruptly burst and Faramir's eyes had flown wide open. He blinked once, twice, and let out a breath he had been holding, also. However, there was no move to back up a step or let go. In fact, Faramir seemed to be quite set on quietly standing one's ground. Even though there was no budging, by the sound of things? Diplomacy was needed. Posthaste.
"That was not Eowyn's fault, but my own. If you are going to yell at anyone, then you must yell at me first and foremost, for initiating the kiss. And I will tell you, plainly, that it will happen again." A pause, before Faramir amended, "Although perhaps not under these precise conditions."
"You are both women, right this moment, and I will not have this under my roof! Nay, nay even if you were still a man or she was a man, in no possible combination would I allow this under my roof! She- " and he pointed at Eowyn "Is a SHREW!"
Breathless Eowyn attempted to laugh. It made her sound like she'd just run a marathon. "Did you really...just call me a shrew?"
For the record? She rubbed against Faramir like a cat, just to spite Boromir.
"There is nothing wrong with this, even if I were your sister," Faramir pointed out. If Boromir could be loud obstinate, then Faramir was still being quiet obstinate. There were still no signs of budging, although there was nothing about his wording or demeanor that was meant to incite anger in anyone else. And that was even though Eowyn was rubbing like that. Rubbing, which caused Faramir's eyes to flutter closed for a moment, before trying to regain all of that considerable willpower (s)he had. "If you are so opposed to this happening under your roof and must resort to name calling? Then I can remedy that by finding my own roof to reside under. For, no matter what transpires, I know there is some reason that I feel close to Eowyn, even if I do not know the details in full. I trust my heart and my own judgment, in this matter."
To Eowyn, there was a raw whisper, "Please, let's not incite him, lest he has a stroke. And it is increasingly difficult for me to refrain from doing anything further."
Says the person who has one arm around Eowyn, still. Not helping matters at all, Faramir.
Noooope.
"No. Nay. No. Damn it." Boromir slapped his hands over his eyes and groaned. This was wrong, this was all wrong and nothing would ever make it right again. "I am going to get a drink."
Eowyn grinned as he marched towards the kitchen. "Little early to hit the beer isn't it?"
Boromir? Just flipped her off.
"...I think today counts as special circumstances," said Faramir, while casting a worried stare in Boromir's direction. When grumpy brother was out of view, Faramir gave Eowyn a fond smile to try to diffuse the aura of GRR that was left hanging in the room.
"I am beginning to think you enjoy antagonizing one another," he said, "even if it is more on your part than on his. But I fear everything is weighing heavily upon him, and he does not say what truly troubles him. Not even to me."
"What gives you that idea," Wyn asked sweetly, very nearly adding 'my love' to the end of that and smacking herself in a mental sort of way for even thinking of that. But it may have flashed in her eyes, a sentiment she couldn't quite hide.
"Maybe you should sit him down and attempt to drag it out of him," she suggested, lifting a hand to Faramir's cheek.
"Oh, I know not? Perhaps it is the endearing way you call one another foul names and use such charmingly rude hand gestures."
If so, and even if it wasn't his face, exactly? Faramir was staring into her eyes with very much the same sort of sentiment. It wasn't anything that was meant to be hidden, since it was more open and freely done.
"I think I might, shortly. I do not know if doing so while I'm in this body is that which he would readily accept." One hand rested over Eowyn's. "I'm sorry. Whenever you are near, I can not help myself. I have no wish to make you uncomfortable showing you affection like this? But I find that even this obstacle seems surmountable, when you are before me."
"I'm surprised no one has told us that we should fuck," Eowyn said, shrugging her shoulder. It was a thought that filled her with a great deal of disgust. Her tone and eyes soften the longer she looked into Faramir's eyes. "Faramir..I might be a little pissed off at the idea that something might be fated, but it feels too good to argue."
It is a foregone conclusion that he was starry-eyed while staring at her. It was a long moment before any softly spoken word left his super soft lady lips.
"I think, when and if it happens," Faramir was choosing his wording carefully, "that such a crass description would not be fitting. Alas. That is getting ahead of ourselves, and if you are angered at the idea of it being fated? Even if it feels too good to argue, at times like these? Then I think it is good we are waiting. We do not know if it is fated or not, since we do not know if we will meet in the dreams. And I sometimes think you are meant for another, even if my heart tells me there is no one else I want more than you., And even if my brother is less than pleased with the thought."
“You are not allowed to call it making love,” Eowyn protested, eyes widening. She poked the man (woman) in the chest, and when her finger bounced off she started giggling uncontrollably.
“Gods. This is so surreal.” She pressed a hand to her face. “I don’t want to be fated for something, Faramir. I want it to be natural. Whatever it might be.”
"Fine, but if I am to abide by that rule, then you are not allowed to call it fucking," countered Faramir, with a smile widening right back at her. The chest poke was a little...pokey in places. Wisely enough, Faramir decided not to draw further attention to it. For reasons.
"And that is why I do not wish to rush into the thick of things, and have been keeping to myself more." Gently, very gently, Faramir took hold of her hand, to guide it away from her face. He spoke honestly, but seriously at the same time. "I want things to happen in their own time, but neither do I deny the dreams mean something. I think they do, whether it is the fate of some other me, that I have not yet seen. Or some other you, possibly, that other me does not yet know. And if it does come to pass that our fates were somehow bound together? Then I will be comforted by that fact. I want you to know this: Their destiny need not be shared by us, if we do not wish it. We still have free will, to do as we want...including parting ways."
To which Faramir solemnly added, "Which pains me to say or think it. But you may find you want something or someone else. And I would not keep you from it."
"Fine. Sex. We will have so much sex that you won't be able to walk, because I fucked the walking right out of you." Eowyn made sure to say that loudly enough to be heard from the kitchen. Her reward was a bellow from Boromir and the slamming of the fridge. She looked positively delighted at this development.
"Are you sure we have free will, Faramir?" Eowyn's expression fell. "I do not wish to be...caged."
It was Faramir's turn to facepalm. Please note: There was no denial about that scenario happening, either. Aheeeeeeeeeeeeem.
"I'm sure we do." The hand dropped away and Faramir looked, and sounded, serious. "We were still born into this world, Eowyn. The same rules do not apply, as they did there. There is no cage which can hold you, nor do I want to keep you in one. I want an equal, not a servant, and the choices we make are still our own. They are always our own."
A momentary eyedart, and Faramir looked a little concerned. "I should speak to my brother and try to set him at ease."
"It feels sometimes, as though I am that sad, depressed woman I dream I am. Forever caged away. Only in my latest dreams am I free, and that is only because I ride in disguise with the rest of the Rohirrim." Eowyn trailed off with a sigh. "Good luck, it seems like nothing will set him at ease. He's a walking train wreck of right-wing anger."
"I think it is the nature of those dreams to seem very real and very tangible. It matters most what we do during our waking hours, with what we have learned. We still have the ability to say yes or no, to those things we do with this life. I do not see the dreams as something to deny, but to learn from."
Faramir looked apologetic, but leaned in and placed a kiss upon her brow, to console her and set her ease.
"All will be well, no matter what transpires. Things will happen as they are meant to." He smiled at her, and then started to pull away. It was done with great reluctance. "I also think that you both seem to vastly underestimate one another. There is more to him, just as there is more to you. Someday, I hope you will make your peace with one another. Even though I will not hold my breath, in waiting!"
Eowyn regarded Faramir with a dour expression on her face. She thought that maybe he wasn't entirely correct. Part of her wanted to deny the dreams, because the only thing she could learn from them was that her fate was never her own. She looked to the side, folding her arms defensively. "You would turn blue in the face from waiting. I would not like that."
Someone was being optimistic. Or trying to be. To Faramir's thinking, it would do no good to wallow in one's own doubt and denial, and let it affect their daily life.
After noting her defensive stance, Faramir let the matter rest. Someday, with any measure of luck, maybe they would get along. If there was a someday, because there was no telling what might transpire.
"I will return, shortly. If you wish to wait. Give me but a moment with him." And at that, Faramir turned and went to the kitchen, approaching Boromir slowly and carefully. "Boromir? I am sorry if I upset you. This is temporary, this condition, but I fear that it is not all which bothers you. Can you not try to set aside your animosity for Eowyn, for a small while?"
It was wishful thinking, but worth a try.
Boromir was on his second beer, the first can crushed and sitting on the table like a cry for help. "I do not understand why you insist on carrying on with that cow." His voice was a low growl, and his expression was morose. Everything had been fine until she'd waltzed in. Everything had been fine until the dreams. Everything had been fine until that bloody ring and bloody Moria and that bloody elf witch!
Boromir did not like Moria. Boromir did not like Lothlorien.
Faramir was blinking at the crushed beer can (yes, it is a cry for help, due to mass crumpling) and then at his brother, who seemed deeply troubled. Deep down, he knew it was not all about Eowyn. There were other things weighing heavily upon him, and it might take a while to get Boromir to confess all of it.
After resting one hand on Boromir's shoulder, Faramir very gently asked, "I like her. I understand her. And it causes me to feel peace and joy, to be near her. Is that not enough? I would want the same for you. I also do not think Eowyn is all there is to your darkened mood. If you need someone to listen, I am here to do so. I hope you know that."
There was much that Boromir would say about the dreams. The ring and the way it taunted him were not one of them.
However, he would bitch about elf witches until the cows came home. And about Eowyn, who didn't really irritate him as much as he let on. A lot of it had to do with feelings and crap. And Boromir hated feelings and crap.
"She just rubs me the wrong way, brother. That is all."
"May I ask why?" Faramir inquired, because he really doubted there was good, sound reasoning for all of the ill will.
“She reminds me of me.” It was an unusual admission, coming from Boromir, and his expression grew only more dour as he said it.
"That is not a bad thing. I know you have your faults, as do I, and I am not blind to them." Faramir knew his brother's quirks, and knew Eowyn had a temper as well. Even Faramir considered himself powerless to prevent bad situations from happening, and therefore, at times, things slipped past him that he later wished he could prevent or fix. There was no hesitation in admitting that. At all. "But there is good in you as well. This should not be cause for conflict or ill feelings."
"Are you smitten with her?" Boromir asked, wrinkling his nose up as he did so. It wasn't even the 'you fell in love with a female me' thing though that was bothersome (and overly simplicated). It was just that Eowyn made all his own flaws glaringly apparent and he hated that.
"And can you put those bloody things away!?" He pointed at Faramir's chest!
"It is not as though I am walking about, topless." Faramir smiled a little sheepishly at the pointing, and lightly bapped Boromir's hand so it stopped drawing attention to more obvious feminine assets. "I think...it is more than smitten, Boromir. But she fears being caged in, and I have no wish to do that to her. She must be free to make her own decisions and sort out her own feelings, including where I am concerned."
Boromir looked conflicted. “You are just going to give up and not fight for her? If you say you feel this way about her, do not let her get away! Even if I object.”
"It is not about fighting. It is about choice, and her having the freedom to make a choice that is her own," Faramir explained. "If she choose not to, I should hope that it happens after we have talked, and then I will abide by her decision. I can not force her with words or actions to change her decision. Nor would I want to."
There was a smile, and a simple statement, "It is all despite anyone's objections, at this juncture."
Boromir knocked back the rest of his beer and then crushed the can. He squinted at Faramir. “She can stay. If you wish. So that you can talk, or what have you. But the bedroom door stays open at all times!!!”
Like Faramir was a teen.
“I am an adult, Boromir.” Ever so calmly, Faramir evenly replied, "We shall talk. With the bedroom door open or shut, as suits our whims. You are in luck that I am in no rush to further things along."
Boromir stared at him, then let out a great sigh. “Good. You do not want to rush into such things too soon, not with your delicate sensibilities.”
He wasn’t backing down. He was just...adjusting course.
Faramir's eyebrows (no matter how girlish) were raised up at the mention of delicate sensibilities. True, he had more of a more mellow temperament and disposition, but he hardly thought of himself as a wilting flower about to lose it's petals. Maybe it was the girl body that was prompting it. Or so he was telling himself.
"Why, thank you," Faramir finally managed to say, even though the tone was mildly teasing. "It is good you have realized as much. Now, I do not wish to be rude to our guest, so I will go forth and speak with her. And continue not rushing into things, as well as hoping you will one day tell me what it is that plagues you. When you are ready."
Now was obviously not that time. Boromir did not seem ready to divulge it, and Faramir was patient enough to wait. For a while longer, at least.