Maid of Wind and Water

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Sometimes she wondered if water flowed in her veins, and he were made of stone. Still, she knew the truth of his fire in her heart.

Finduilas sighed. Like the walls of Minas Tirith, its winding lanes and nested, secret places Denethor was strong, tall, mysterious and, oftimes, obdurate.

Sea and wind had made her quick to laugh, to rage, to run, to love. Yet she’d found peace beside him as a wave beside the shore.

Stone could dam water, water erode stone, but none of that mattered now.

As the silent fish swished within her growing belly, Finduilas smiled.