This, That and the Other Thing

The Sense of Seasons

A Spring Scent

A gentle breeze blew through the City from the South, and Denethor took a deep breath, relishing the fresh air. It smelled new and green, but there was something else too. The scent of freesia carried on a sea breeze. It put him in mind of her, and he smiled. Hope and promise, carried on the wind.

Summer's Taste

He touched her face gently. "Warm and sweet. And tender and wonderful."
She wiped the corner of his mouth with her handkerchief, and gave him a sly smile. "Husband, is it just the berry pie you speak of? Or something else?"

Seeing Autumn

Dead leaves crunched under his feet, making him look down. The leaves had turned this year, before he had even noticed. Absently, he picked up a life and twirled it in his fingers. He could see it was mostly dry, its once reddish golden hue turned to the deep brown of decay. The tree will find life again, but how will I?

Winter to the Touch

He ripped the coverlet off the orb, desperate to see what was now beyond even the vision of the Seeing Stone. His hands rested on the glass, and he could not help but notice how cold it was, like the unrelenting ice storm that now gripped the City. He knew then he could not possibly see her in the orb's depths, for she could never abide a place so cold.

Sounds of Spring

He could hear a strange, but oddly familiar, sound and he looked out to find the source. Wind whipped hard against paper, wood and string as young Elboron learned to fly his new kite. A long-buried memory came to Faramir's mind, and he gave silent thanks. 'Twas a good lesson for spring, Father.