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The crack of wood breaking against wood echoes across the training grounds, multiple sparring matches stop and curious expressions are turned to the youngest who is similarly shocked, staring at the her opponent while holding a splintered training stave.
Breaths are quiet in the still morning, wisps of fog in the air more shallow than they've been since dawn. Suddenly the silence is shaken by a lifted chin as You speak, "Through that entrance ma'am, tell the man exactly what has happened and he will deal with you."
The short woman nods, only the faintest hint of a tremble wracking her body, it is quickly replaced by set shoulders and a steel exterior. When the door closes, You raise an eyebrow at the remaining students. "Standing still will not help you, back to the beginning, position one of Haradrin's style, now."
A flurry of movement answers your command, each studant eager to please, as well as desperate to not be sent off as well.
At the end of another hour, only one more trainee has broken his weapon, he looks near tears when he stiffly walks through the ornate door. Shortly after you announce the end of the session, and dismiss the tired looking youth.
With a sigh, you stretch your now sore arms, gather your gear, and head home. You too your head to the guards that you recognize in the halls, and grin when the two sent away from the training session catch your eye. "And how are the two of you?"
The young woman shakes her head. "Sore and recovering from severe fright, I thought I was being kicked out!"
"I did as well, that was a crule trick, splitting the swords so they would brake after striking in the right way enough."
You take on an expression of fake insult. "Hey now, those took a while to do properly! And really, I do like to see how my students can handle dissapointment, the wrong reaction in a fight can cost you your life."
A few moments later sees you at the entrace to your rooms. The door creaks when you open it -it always has, but since it is on pitch you never fix it- the area beyond empty, so you take the opportunity to pout at the absence of your husband.
At least he cannot poke fun at the length of the bath you take, for it is a good thirty minutes before the water has cooled ariund you and you drag yourself from the water. With vindictive pleasure you pull Boromir's largest sleep shirt over your head, after all he cant use it if he's not here.
With that depressing thought, you set to making a small dinner, and your hands are covered in flour when the sound of horns comes from beyond the window. There is a brief momment where you freeze, and then you are running to the door, slinging a cloak on against the cold.
There is a guard at the door when you arive, they do not speak, simply pulling at the handle and smirking as you race past. The paved pathways are a blur beneath your bare feet, and you take no notice of the occasional stones that prick at your toes.
The gates are already open and soldiers filter in on horses, there is cheering, but it seems quiet. Chestnut curls sway, snatching your attention instantly. You vault over the last flight of stairs, landing already in a dead sprint.
Boromir grins at your approach, steadying his mount, and when you reach his side he reaches down and pulls you up into his lap. He smirks, "Miss me?" You mumble a very eloquent 'shut up' before using his hair as a means to pull him into a deep kiss.
He pulls away, barely, and rests his head against your's. "And here I thought you wished never to make a spectacle of yourself?"
"I havent seen you in six months, heard from you in one and a half," You mumble, "For all I knew you could have been dead. I'm alowed one spectacular display under the circumstances."
"Well this display is one I wish not to see."
You grumble but accept Farimir's hand down. Boromir pulls him into a hug. "As you say my brother. I have missed you."
"Aye," Farimir smiles. "But you've missd y/n a bit more, and in a different way. I'll attend to your horse, you are long over due a bath."
"He's right." Boromir's second in command quips from behind you. "You smell like shit," He pauses and bows without loosing his grin. "My Lord." When Boromir frowns, he waves a hand. "I will take care of the report, tend to what's your's, unless you'd rather I?"
Without a word Boromir swings you out of your stance and into a bridal carry. You yelp, but he ignores your protests and continues in the same fashion until the door to your apartments is firmly shut. Once it is, he puts you down, only for you to find yourself pinned against it with a very very attentive husband attacking your lips. "You know he wouldn't have really. He was only goading you into taking some free time."
He makes a humming sound before nipping at your bottom lip. "Will you be joining me in removing the four from my hair?" You gasp as his attentions turn to your neck. "Do not sound so shocked dear one, as you come before me and my unit dressed in nothing but my shirt and cloak for all to see."
Oh. For you had, in your (compleatly reasonable) haste forgotten your currant wardrobe. " 'Suppose its all yours then," you place a finger against his lips, "Oh no no, it's your's after dinner." You wrinkle your nose. "And a bath, your brother's right you smell horrid."