Yare: Of a ship; moving lightly and easily; answering readily to the helm; easily manageable. (from the OED)
Candle light flickered from the newly-rebuilt windows of Húrin's House in Emyn Arnen. Drowsy, Lothíriel listened to plans of ambush on renegade Southrons hiding in the forested hills nearby. The retirement of a certain shieldmaiden was the topic at hand. Faramir persisted that his wife stay at home; Éowyn would only burden the rangers as well as endanger herself.
Éowyn was abnormally subdued. Lothíriel knew that her cousin's wife was often at a loss trying to function like a Gondorian princess. How did the women of Gondor behave when they disagreed with their men? Perhaps she should set the example?
"…and that's my final word, Éowyn."
A quiet laugh to his right caught Faramir's attention and he blinked. Lothíriel, who had insisted on joining the council with Eowyn, rose from the table."Oh Faramir, it's a good thing you're handsome because you're not always bright." She then whispered in his ear before leaving the chamber. Faramir colored slightly but smiled.
"Right. I'll remember that," he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
Éowyn quirked her eyebrows up, "Lothíriel said I could go?""No, she said you didn't need my permission." He cleared his throat, "She said you've killed more impressive things than me."
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