When she follows the sound of his voice, ringing out even over the singing of hammers and the constant hum of the bellows, she finds him standing in the midst of the armory, bathed in the glow of the nearby smithy furnace.
“Too long in the arms,” Peter says, shucking the mail shirt off his back and reaching for the next offering; she tries, unsuccessfully, not to admire too closely the lines of his back through the linen tunic plastered to his skin, nor the way his shoulders bunch and roll as he tries the next piece.
“Too small,” he decides, almost as soon as it hits those lovely shoulders, then gasps in pain as his squires seek to tug it off; fortunately for Peter, she steps forth from the shadows to disentangle his hair from the links with gentle fingers, and smiles, saying, “Fear not, my lord, for I am here to rescue you.”
Yes! I was reading over the last page and remembered Lucy and her mail coif issues, and couldn't resist. Eowyn is, after all, a knight in shining armor! Or a shieldmaiden in shining armor, at least.
CAN.NOT.BREATHE. THIS. THIIIIIS. All the sounds of the armory, and Peter in the midst of it trying on mail and she just cannot take her eyes off him....CHRISTMAS CAME LATE THIS YEAR \o/ (and then the HAIR GETTING CAUGHT IN THE MAIL oh I think I love you.)
(Somebody help me, I can't stop, it's all rthstewart's fault.)
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“Too long in the arms,” Peter says, shucking the mail shirt off his back and reaching for the next offering; she tries, unsuccessfully, not to admire too closely the lines of his back through the linen tunic plastered to his skin, nor the way his shoulders bunch and roll as he tries the next piece.
“Too small,” he decides, almost as soon as it hits those lovely shoulders, then gasps in pain as his squires seek to tug it off; fortunately for Peter, she steps forth from the shadows to disentangle his hair from the links with gentle fingers, and smiles, saying, “Fear not, my lord, for I am here to rescue you.”
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