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Title: Untangled Desires Faramir thinks that plaits look delightful on his daughter, or the King's little girl, or even adorning the head of a kitchen maid, or the tavern wench who usually serves his ale. With his wife, though, it is a different matter. He yearns to run his hands though her golden tresses and feel her silky locks tickling his bare skin. He pleads with her to loose her hair at bedtime. Éowyn frowns. "It will tangle and take too long to comb on the morrow," she says. Faramir heartily dislikes plaits. He buys pretty combs for Éowyn and lives in hope. |
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