Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) Title: Glimpses of Middle-earth (#4471) Author: Senta Chapters: 4 Archive: Tolkien Category: Lord of the Rings Description: A selection of very diverse drabbles and short pieces written for the 2012 BTME challenge. Published: 14 Apr 2013 Updated: 20 Oct 2013 Warnings: mild sexual content Type: General Characters: Chapter 1 - Glimpses of Middle- earth Glimpses of Middle-earth by Linda Hoyland B2MeM Challenge FourWords1 smith, consonance,cradle,mantle Format: drabble Genre: romance Rating: G Warnings: none Characters: Fëanor /Nerdanel Pairings: none Summary: Nerdanel has a suitor These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain. Nerdanel was never happier than when she could cast aside embroidered gown and velvet mantle for the simple garb of a smith. She loved the bright flames of the forge and the consonance of the hammer upon the anvil. Fëanor often found reason to tarry in her smithy, his eyes hungrily watching her every move. She wondered at this, but said nothing. One day he took her hand. "Tell me, my lady, have you ever thought of crafting a cradle?" "Why do you ask?" "Because we would require one for our children would you but consent to be my wife." B2MeM Challenge FourWords1 order,cascade,small, dogwood. Canon couples- Celeborn/Galadriel Format: drabble Genre: romance Rating: PG13 Warnings: mild sexual content Characters: Celeborn /Galadriel Pairings: Celeborn/Galadriel Summary:A romantic moment for Celeborn and Galadriel These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain. Galadriel loved the mallorns, resplendent in their golden finery. Celeborn preferred the humble dogwoods, bedecked with silver white petals. "Maybe in some small way they resemble your silver tresses?" Galadriel teased, running her slender fingers through Celeborn's hair. "Perhaps, while your hair is surpassed only by Arien's rays!" Her tresses flowed through his fingers in a cascade of gold. "Such is the order of things my love. Would you have me burn you with my heat?" "Gladly!" Celeborn kissed her. "But beware lest I consume you with my flame!" "Let us then retire to our chamber to make fire together!" The Watcher Wakes B2MeM Challenge Beasts1- watcher in the water;Four Words- core, vulture,stratus, maim Format: drabble Genre: horror Rating: PG Warnings: none Characters: The watcher in the Water Pairings: none Summary: The watcher is disturbed. These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain. Deep, deep was the lake. So deep, that some believed it penetrated endless rocky stratum until it reached the very core of the earth. Dark, dark were the waters, no light reached far beneath the surface, nothing troubled its brooding slumbers until the Watcher came from Sirannon beneath the mountains. The many tentacled guardian took up its new abode. Watchful as a vulture, it sought ceaselessly to maim and kill any that might disturb it. The Dwarves were no more, yet it remained ever watchful. The rash one throws a stone, heralding the coming of he who bears the One. A bit of fun for all my kind friends who supported me at BTME with their encouraging comments. A response to the prompts - Sage, Aragorn as wooer and Watcher in the Water. The plot is Cairistiona's Apologies to Tolkien for using his poor characters like this. To be sung to the tune of "She's coming round the mountain" and taken with a large pinch of salt! "Strider, help!" cried Frodo as a long tentacle reared out of the water. "What shall we do, Mr Strider?" Sam asked in terror. "I believe the creature is much misunderstood," said Aragorn. "It needs wooing. I believe too, that Watchers in the Water just adore sage!" Thus saying, he took some from his pack, cast it in the water, and sang. "Sweet Watcher in the Water, you're divine, Dear Watcher in the Water, please be mine! Sweet Watcher, please say I do, O, Watcher in the Water, I love you!" A tentacle reached towards Aragorn. It clutched a red rose. Different in My Day B2MeM Four Words- gang, remarkable,blackberry, nicely Format: drabble Genre: humour Rating: G Warnings: To be taken with a large pinch of salt Characters: Sam, the Gaffer Pairings: none Summary: The Gaffer dislikes Sam's new gadget With apologies to Tolkien who owns Sam and the Gaffer "What's that, Sam?" asked the Gaffer, staring dubiously at the small gleaming box in his son's hand. Every few minutes it emitted a piercing bleep. "It's called a Blackberry, Dad. All the gang have them. They are quite remarkable. You can email, browse the web, and make calls on them." The Gaffer frowned. "In my day, Sam lad, you ate a blackberry, webs belonged to spiders, and we paid calls in person. We did very nicely too. Now put that confounded box of tricks away, you've hardly touched the garden lately! Your fancy Blackberry won't grow taters for Mister Frodo!" Rejection B2MeM Four Words-exception, hospitality,sell, publish Format: drabble Genre: AU Rating: G Warnings: To be taken with a large pinch of salt Characters: Frodo, OMC Pairings: none Summary: Frodo takes the Red Book to a publisher. With apologies to Tolkien. Could you not make an exception?" Frodo pleaded, gazing earnestly at the man behind the desk. "I'm sorry, Mr Baggins, but in the current economic climate we cannot afford to take any risks." He pushed the thick manuscript away. "But this is the story of how Middle-earth was saved. It needs to be told." "Goodbye, Mr Baggins." The publisher rose to his feet, indicating the interview was over. "Do please accept our hospitality before you return home. I'm sorry we cannot publish your book, but a tale about Hobbits, Elves, Dwarves, heroic Men, and a magic Ring would never sell." B2MeM Challenge - The Steward and his sons- brothers Format: double drabble Genre: General Rating: PG Warnings: none Characters: Boromir, Faramir Pairings: none Summary: Boromir sets off for Rivendell These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain. The morning sunlight shone brightly across the stable yard while the two brothers prepared to make their farewells. "I wish you had let me take this errand, Boromir. Gondor can ill spare you at present." "It is fitting that I should go, Faramir. I am the elder and hardier. Take care of father and our beloved land until I return." Boromir had his foot in the stirrup ready to mount, but he could not go, not yet. Gesturing to a groom to hold the horse, he walked back to where Faramir stood and pulled his brother into a close embrace. Faramir hugged him tightly. "The stars shine upon your path, my brother, until you return home safely." "Take care, little brother. I will return before you have time to miss me." A final embrace, then Boromir leapt on his horse and urged the animal forward. When he had gone a little way, he turned round and waved. Faramir stood watching long after his brother had disappeared over the horizon. A dark cloud appeared, blotting out the sun. They had been separated many times and had faced many perils, but never before had Faramir's heart been so full of foreboding. B2MeM Challenge - Love in M-e- A mother's love Format: triple drabble Genre: General, family Rating: PG Warnings: none Characters: Gilraen, Ivorwen, Aragorn Pairings: Arathorn/ Gilraen Summary: Gilraen contemplates her new born son In loving memory MJM These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain. My mother wraps the babe in a blanket and places him in my arms. "You have a fine son, Gilraen," she says. "I am so proud of you, my brave girl." She kisses my forehead and I see tears in her eyes. She rubs them and looks away." I clutch my baby nervously. He looks so tiny and fragile. What if I drop him? I pull aside the blanket a little and study my son. He has ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes, a long body, and a shock of dark hair. His face is red and crumpled, just like my sister's babe was when he was born. He opens his eyes and looks at me, while one tiny fist clutches at my finger. I am seized with such a surge of overwhelming love that it almost takes my breath away. This babe is surely the fairest creature upon Arda! Not even an Elven child could surpass his beauty! This is my child, my son, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone and heart of my heart. I must live now for my son, protect him from all perils. I would gladly die for him, even kill for him! He whimpers and I know at once that he is hungry. I offer him my breast and he suckles eagerly. My mother smiles at me. "You are a natural mother," she says. "Today, new hope has been born to our people." I gaze on my babe's innocent, contented face. Will my mother's foresight come to pass? Is my son destined for some great future? Or will he be as quickly forgotten as the other Chieftains of the Dúnedain, their names recalled only in fireside tales? I know one thing only, he will never be wanting for a mother's love. How Not to Woo B2MeM Challenge - Four words - buzz,half, thimble, apart; Canon couples - Pippin/Diamond Format: drabble Genre: romance, humour Rating: G Warnings: none Characters: Merry, Pippin Pairings: Pippin/Diamond Summary: Pippin is in love. "When we're apart, it breaks my heart, the thought of us wed, gives a buzz to my head," Pippin recited. "Oh, Merry, I'm so in love! I feel I'm only half a Hobbit without Diamond!" "Your girth suggests otherwise," said Merry. "You will scare the poor lass away with your bad poetry. Give her a nice gift instead." "I took your advice and she slapped me!" Pippin complained later. "What did you give her?" "A thimble." "Oh foolish Pip! She thinks you are courting her to mend your shirts!" "That's one reason, but I do love her!" "Give her flowers." Wingfoot B2MeM Challenge - Roles and names of Aragorn - Wingfoot Format: drabble Genre: general Rating: PG Warnings: none Characters: Aragorn Pairings:none Summary: Aragorn reflects on the name Éomer gave him. Wingfoot, Éomer calls me, would that I indeed had winged feet! My limbs are sore weary and aching, while even my Elven made boots cannot prevent every painful blister. My heart pounds and my lungs feel as if they might burst. Every muscle and sinew throbs and aches. Nothing would I like better than to lie down, sleep, and give my body the rest it craves, but I must run onward weary mile after weary mile. While any glimmer of hope remains, I must follow the trail until its ending. I cannot abandon Merry and Pippin to torture and death. B2MeM Challenge - Botany - Lotus Format: drabble Genre: General Rating: G Warnings: none Characters: Eowyn, OFC Pairings: none These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain. Summary: Lady Adiva shows Eowyn some strange flowers “Come and see my new flowers,” Lady Adiva said to Éowyn. Éowyn followed the Ambassador’s wife out into the gardens. Adiva led her to a fair fountain filled with beautiful blooms, which reminded Éowyn a little of tulips, save that they appeared to grow in water. “Are they some sort of water lily?” she asked. “Oh no, esteemed Lady Éowyn,” said Adiva. “These are lotus blossoms, one of the most revered flowers in the East. They represent beauty and purity. The gods themselves favour them. Few western eyes have beheld them.” Éowyn smiled.“You do me great honour," she said. B2MeM Challenge - Four words - vase, leech, possibility, armful Format: drabble Genre: humour Rating: PG Warnings: minor injury, spider Characters: Frodo, Sam, Lobelia Pairings: None With apologies to Tolkien. Summary: Frodo is injured. “Whatever’s happened, Mr Frodo?” Sam asked in alarm. “You are bleeding! Shall I send for a leech?” “Lobelia hit me with her umbrella,” Frodo sighed, mopping the blood from a cut on his head with a handkerchief. “What did she do that for?” asked Sam. “I took her an armful of your best roses and a spider crawled out of one when she put them in a vase. She was certain I had put the spider there on purpose and would not entertain the possibility that it could be an accident.” “Spider indeed! I’ll put a wasp in next time!” No Greater Love B2MeM Challenge - Four words - infidelity, new, mesmerise, classify; Format: drabble Genre: humour Rating: PG Warnings: none Characters: Faramir, Eowyn, Arwen Pairings: Faramir/ Eowyn Summary: Does Faramir has a rival for Eowyn's love? "I have only just met him, but I love him, I really do!" Éowyn's eyes were alight as she spoke to Arwen. Faramir, who was walking past, reacted in horror. Surely, his beloved wife was not guilty of infidelity? Later he found her in the stables, gazing as if mesmerized at the new stallion her brother had sent from his herds. "Look, Faramir!" she cried. "How do you classify such perfection? I love him!" Faramir smiled and petted the horse, his worries forgotten. He should have known that Éowyn had no greater love than her horses. It troubled him not. B2MeM Challenge Song lyrics - Even though you're a big strong girl the best laid plans are in your open hands. The Steward and his Sons - Seek for the sword that was broken; Tolkien's Tree- Nimloth.. Book Titles - Dead Poet's Society. Facets of Faramir - Questioner. Last Lines- - was alive but taken by the enemy. Format: Double drabble Genre: general, Rating: PG Warnings: Total hokum to fit in my prompts until I could write something better as the Muses were being stubborn. Characters: Faramir, Eowyn Pairings: Faramir/ Eowyn Summary: Faramir and Eowyn discuss poetry These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain. "I do not understand why you are so keen on this "Dead Poets Society," said Éowyn. "You should concentrate on living poets. You are a fine poet yourself, who can write poetry of your own, rather than merely study the words of men long dead." "Always so practical, my Éowyn!" Faramir kissed her. "Even though you're such a strong woman, the best laid plans are your open hands!" "There you go making up poems again," said Éowyn. "It just proves what I said." "Your words are wise," said Faramir. "I will suggest that each member of the society write a new poem and read it to the others at the next meeting we hold." "What shall the poem be about?" asked Éowyn. "Nimloth, of which our White Tree is a scion," said Faramir. "Or maybe about the dream Boromir and I had telling us to seek for the sword that was broken. "Trust you to even write new poems on old lore!" said Éowyn. "What would you have me write then?" Faramir questioned. "Why not write one about a poisoner, who killed all the poets of old? Or maybe the poets are still alive but taken prisoner by the enemy?" B2MeM Challenge The Steward and his Sons - Seek for the sword that was broken; Tolkien's Tree- Nimloth.. Facets of Faramir - Questioner. Last Lines- - was alive but taken by the enemy. Format: 300 Word FLF Genre: general, Rating: PG Warnings: None Characters: Faramir Pairings: none Summary: Faramir worries about his brother These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain. He should have been granted the errand. It was his dream! Faramir groaned in frustration and ran his hands through his dark hair. To be fair, Boromir had dreamed the same dream, but only after Faramir had recounted it to his brother. Maybe Boromir had sensed his thoughts as they had slept alongside each other on the eve of the battle. Alternatively, had he talked in his sleep and caused his brother to dream? Why had his father decided to send Boromir? His brother could less easily be spared. Faramir had questioned his father but received no answers. He could guess them, though. Denethor did not trust him. He knew the old lore as well as his father did. Many swords had been broken in countless battles against the enemy as well as in kinstrife. Only one broken sword was deemed worthy of remembrance, though, Narsil, the sword of Elendil that had been shattered beneath him. His son, Isildur had pulled the broken sword from beneath his father’s body and cut the thing of which we do not speak, from the Dark Lord’s hand. Mithrandir had told him the tale. Could it be then that some heir of Elendil’s yet lived and breathed? Faramir thought of other dreams that he had dreamed; of the White Tree, alive and blossoming, as fair as Nimloth of old. Beside the tree had stood a man, tall and mighty as Elendil himself, wearing a crown and bearing a sceptre. Faramir had knelt to pay him homage and the King had smiled. Months had passed, though, and there was no news of Boromir. Had some mishap befallen him? Surely he would sense if Boromir had been slain? Or what if an even worse fate had befallen him? He was alive but taken by the enemy? B2MeM Challenge - Four words - quit, deep,lapse, coy Format: drabble Genre: humour Rating: PG Warnings: none Characters: Aragorn, Arwen Pairings: Aragorn/ Arwen Summary: Arwen is annoyed with Aragorn. Deep in thought, Aragorn pondered a knotty problem concerning affairs of state. His fidgety fingers felt in his pocket and grasped at his pipe. He took it out and looked at it longingly. “Estel!” Arwen cried accusingly, appearing from around a corner. “I thought you had quit that nasty habit.” “I have,” said Aragorn. “It was just a momentary lapse. He flushed like a child caught planning some mischief. “Why so coy?” Arwen demanded crossly. “I know you want to light it. I will ensure you are not tempted again.” She seized the pipe and cast it into the fire. A/n. This is AU to what I believe really happened, which is told in "Smoke gets in your eyes." B2MeM Challenge - All Oc, all the time, an in Law Format: drabble Genre: humour Rating: G Warnings: none Characters: OMCS Pairings:OMC/ OFC Summary: Gilavir has an important question to ask. A sequel to "A Woman's Touch" at http://lindahoyland.livejournal.com/260146.html “So you desire to wed my daughter?” The grizzled Ranger eyed Gilavir suspiciously. “Why?” “She is fair as the sunrise, sweeter than honey, lovelier than-” “I have heard on good authority that you desired a wife for the sole purpose of knitting your socks!” Gilavir flushed. “I did once, but that was before I met your Inzilwen.” “What if I were to tell you that her knitting skills were sadly lacking and she could not make socks if her life depended on it?” “I should still wish to wed her.” “You may have her then. In truth she knits well!” Chapter 2 - From the Battlefield B2MeM Challenge- Waters - underwater scene; Last Lines -There wouldn't be any decent wine, would there?;First lines -The cold passes reluctantly from the earth and the retiring fogs revealed an army stretched out on the hills resting.; Tolkien's Trees - Elm.; Injuries and other ailments- Cough; Canon couples - Denethor/Finduilas Format: 500 word FLF Genre: Rating: PG Warnings: none Characters: Denethor Pairings: Denethor/Finduilas Summary: Denethor writes a letter. The cold passed reluctantly from the earth, and the retiring fogs revealed an army stretched out on the hills resting. Denethor scrambled to his feet and flexed his long limbs. He fumbled in his pack and took out writing materials. This was a perfect opportunity to write to Finduilas before the rest of the camp was abroad. He seated himself beneath a nearby elm tree, his back against the trunk and the parchment upon his lap. He began to write. My dearest wife, The campaign is going well and I find myself with a rare moment of leisure to write. It gladdened my heart to learn that our Boromir is doing so well with his sword practise for one so young. Our son will make a mighty warrior and a great Steward in the fullness of time. I miss my boy so much! He is such a remarkable child. So Faramir is now a precocious talker who has learned to recite some verses despite his tender years? I am glad the boy is proving intelligent, but hope he will prove as apt with the sword as his brother. You think the little one gives such clever answers that he has the makings of a statesman? A worthy calling, but not in this present age when Gondor has such sore need of warriors. I hope you are taking care of your health, dear wife, and the cough you have been suffering from these past months is improved. Have you consulted another healer yet? The woman who said you needed sea air obviously didn't know what she was talking about. We passed by a great lake yesterday and saw a truly remarkable sight. The water was very clear and the rocks beneath gave the appearance of underwater ruins. It made me think of Númenor of old. I wonder if the ruins appear thus on the ocean bed? We few Men of the West and our beloved Gondor are now all that remain of the former glories of our people. We must fight to our last drop of blood to preserve what is left to us in these latter days. The camp was now stirring. His men would be awaiting their orders. Denethor dipped his quill in the inkpot and concluded his letter. Have no fear for my safety, Finduilas. Now I am Ruling Steward, my duty is to command and inspire the men rather than throw myself into the fray. I hope to be reunited with you before Mettarë. Your loving husband, Denethor, Steward to the House of Anárion. He sealed the letter and got to his feet. He paused for a moment and looked up at the elm. For some reason the bare branches reminded him of the White Tree. This common elm would sprout in springtime, though, while the White Tree would remain forever lifeless. A deep melancholy seized Denethor. He called to his servant for breakfast and as an afterthought asked. "There wouldn't be any decent wine, would there?" Chapter 3 - The warrior and the dreamer B2MeM Challenge weather- windy ;Injuries and other ailments - Just a scratch. Song lyrics -Open eyes and open ears wake up your starboard bride. ;Love in M-e- He believed he must say farewell to love and light. Book Titles- The wave in the Mind. The Steward and his Sons - Son and heir. Format: short story Genre: General Rating: PG Warnings: minor injury Characters: Boromir, Faramir, OMC Pairings: none Summary: Faramir's visions prove dangerous for him. These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain. He was aboard a wind tossed ship, his bride asleep beside him on the starboard side, when the giant wave approached, towering over the small ship. He closed his eyes and prepared for death, believing he must bid farewell to love and light. The wave reared up with its mighty crest of white foam, like an angry war steed, a harbinger of death. He felt the sea spray drench his arm followed by a sudden sharp pain. "Faramir!" Boromir's voice forced him back to the present. The wave in his mind receded, but the pain remained. His arm was wet, not with seawater, but with blood. "You are hurt!" "It is nothing, just a scratch." Faramir ruefully reached for his kerchief and wound it around his injured arm. "Whatever were you thinking of, Faramir?" Boromir's eyes were filled with a mixture of anger and concern. "I could have killed you. You were leagues away!" "I am sorry, Boromir. My concentration wavered." "Was it one of your visions?" Boromir asked in a softer tone. Faramir nodded. "It was the vision of the wave in my mind again. It seems to draw ever closer." Boromir sheathed his sword and nodded to his squire to unbuckle the light armour he was wearing. "Our sword practise is over for today. You are hurt; brother, we must summon a healer. I am so sorry, Faramir." "Do not trouble yourself, it is nothing, the bleeding has almost stopped." "It could become infected. If it were one of your men who was injured you would insist that they see the healer. We had better go to the Houses now, if you can walk that far, we do not want to keep father waiting for the day meal." "Very well." Faramir sighed. "I can walk." "I know you have always had visions," said Boromir, "but now they come in the middle of a practise bout? You are starting to worry me!" "The times are growing darker from which we shall either escape, as did Elendil and his folk, or be utterly destroyed as was Númenor of old!" "How cheerful you are, brother!" "Not all my dreams are foretell doom. This time there was a fair maiden with me, I knew her to be my bride. Then sometimes I have visions where I see the White Tree blossoming and I kneel before the King returned." Faramir turned. His brother saw that his eyes were alight with joy. "That sounds like a nightmare to me," said Boromir. "I look forward to having rod and rule when our father leaves the circles of this world." His expression brightened. "Maybe you see me, little brother? If I were to lead us in victory against the Dark Lord, maybe the Council would offer me the silver crown?" Faramir shook his head. "I have never met the man I see in my visions, Boromir, but I would know him at once if I beheld him." "You had best not speak of such fancies to father." Faramir laughed mirthlessly. "I know better than to do that." The brothers lapsed into silence as they walked side by side down to the sixth circle where the Houses of Healing were located. It was a windy day and a fresh breeze from the Anduin blew in their faces and hair. When they passed through the gardens of the Houses, the autumn leaves swirled about their feet. "I knew it would be windy today," Faramir remarked. "Another vision, little brother?" Faramir laughed. "No, the moon had a golden ring about it last night, that always signifies stormy weather, or so the sailors at Dol Amroth say!" "Never have I known anyone with such a thirst for you lore as you; you even remember old tales that you hear from the common folk!" "It is true, though. Who knows when such lore might prove useful?" "I have no idea!" Boromir threw up his hands in mock surrender as they entered the Houses of Healing. The brothers enquired of the clerk who greeted them if they might see Master Tarostar, one of the senior healers. He was kin to their father personal healer to the Steward's household. "Master Tarostar is occupied," said the clerk. "You will have to wait, my lords." "I am the Steward's son and heir," said Boromir. "I desire that he attend my injured brother now." "Boromir!" Faramir chided once the man had scuttled away. "What is the use of being heir to the Stewardship if I cannot make use of it?" Boromir replied. "But Master Tarostar might be tending some seriously ill patient!" Faramir protested. "Or he might be having an afternoon nap. When men have important business they usually make sure their lackeys inform the world of it!" He had no chance to say anything further before Tarostar appeared. He was a tall man of middle to late years with greying hair and a bushy beard. "My brother is hurt," said Boromir before Tarostar had a chance to speak. "It's just a scratch," Faramir said. "Let me be the judge of that," said Tarostar. "Come with me." He led the way to an inner chamber, which was reserved for those of high rank when they were ailing or wounded. Tarostar bade Faramir sit on the bed and unwound the bloody kerchief that he had wound around his forearm. "Hmm," he said, as he examined Faramir's arm. "Hmm?" said Boromir. "Is my brother badly hurt?" "For once, the patient is right," said Tarostar. "It is just a scratch. How did you come by it, Lord Faramir?" "He was injured when we were sparring," said Boromir. "Can you not be more careful?" Tarostar said testily. "I have enough to do with patching up men who were injured by the enemy!" He began to clean the wound then applied a salve. It stung and Faramir grimaced. "It will not be effective if it does not hurt," said the healer. He picked up a bandage and bound it around Faramir's arm. "Keep the wound wrapped for a day or two, it does not require stiches and should soon heal. Now I must return to my seriously injured patients. I bid you good day." He swept from the room. "What appalling manners that man has!" said Boromir. "We should not have bothered Master Tarostar," said Faramir as the two left the Houses of Healing. "One of the apprentice healers could have tended such a minor wound." "We are the Steward's heirs, we deserve the best care," said Boromir. "So does every humble soldier that fights for Gondor," Faramir replied. "We are but Arandur, servants of the King." "A king that will never return," said Boromir. "The people look to the House of Húrin for leadership in these dark times." "Which we shall give them," said Faramir. "But we live in hope still of the King's return, however many centuries have passed." Boromir did not reply and the two walked up to the Citadel in silence. "Have your dreams if they give you comfort, little brother," said Boromir. They had reached the Court of the Fountain. "However, the days of our longfathers have gone. Behold, the White Tree is dead and crumbling. It will never again bring forth blossom." "I have seen it my visions covered in fair white flowers," said Faramir. "Therefore I live in hope." "Steel will serve where dreams cannot. I prefer to trust my sword," said Boromir. "I dream of the day that I can offer my sword in allegiance to to the king then sheathe it forever," said Faramir, a faraway look in his eyes. "Your dreams are my nightmares," Boromir replied. "You were born in the wrong times, little brother." "Yet times can change," said Faramir. "Though whether for good or ill, my foresight does not tell me." Chapter 4 - Clouded Skies Clouded Skies B2MeM Challenge First lines – Ships at a distance; Tolkien's Trees- Pine: Snippets of verse=Old year roaring and blowing. Waters - clouds Format: 500 word fixed length ficlet Genre: general/ romance Rating: PG Warnings: none Characters: Denethor Pairings: Denethor/ Finduilas Summary: Denethor awaits his bride. These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain. Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board, so the old saying went. Denethor had not believed it until today. His bride to be was sailing along the Anduin with her entourage. By nightfall, she would be here and on the morrow, they would be wed. Denethor had never known time pass as slowly as it had done these past weeks. He had fallen in love with Finduilas the moment he had set eyes upon her, a few months past. The old year had been roaring and blowing its way out on the day they had first met. At first, she had rejected his advances and cast longing glances at that upstart captain from the North, but once he had left on campaign, she had soon come to her senses and accepted his offer of marriage. Finduilas then had insisted on returning to Dol Amroth for two weeks to prepare for the wedding. Those weeks had been the longest of Denethor's life. He was determined that after tomorrow they would never be parted again. Denethor had known that as the Steward's heir, he must marry and sire a son, but never had he expected his duty to be so pleasant. He was certain that even the Elf maidens in the tales of old, could not have surpassed Finduilas' beauty, grace, and sweetness of nature. Her hair was like silk, her eyes were brighter than the stars, her figure as slender as a birch, and her voice was sweeter than birdsong borne on the western wind. Everything now lay in readiness for the coming of the bride. The Metherond was bedecked with willow and pine branches and scented spring blossoms. Denethor paced his chambers restlessly. He tried to study a military report, but the words swam before his eyes. At last, he gave up the pretext of trying to work and made his way to the east end of the great outthrust battlement and looked out across the Pelennor towards the Great River, which lay like a giant ribbon stretching towards the distant sea. Denethor rarely indulged in studying the view, but what he saw now, pleased him well. Was this not the fairest place in Middle-earth? Behind him lay the pine-clad mountain, while the fertile fields stretched in front of him. He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined riding across those fields with his bride and the children she would give him. The breeze grew stronger while he stood there, waiting for Finduilas' ship to appear on the horizon. The high fluffy wisps of cloud gave way to dark edged storm clouds, which blew in from the East. Denethor shivered and drew his fur lined cloak more closely around himself'. Then, he saw it, at first a mere speck on the horizon. He strained his keen eyes until he could make out the swan emblem upon the sails. Finduilas was coming! Just then, a great cloud obscured the sun completely and the rain began to fall. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) on Sun Nov 15, 2026 2:23 am