Double Drabble, from drabble meme: "15 March"
Here's the first one... I couldn't do it as a single drabble, so it's a double. This one is for Roisin, who wanted one with Aragorn and his children. I *think* it's 200 even... I had to hand count because I'm writing on the laptop, which doesn't have a word processor beyond Wordpad, which doesn't count my words, and also doesn't give me the accent mark over the "u" in Dunadan. I'll fix all that after I post it at SoA. But for now, without further adieu:
"15 March"
Rating: G
Characters and the phrase "dawnless day" are Tolkien's. I'm merely borrowing them.
Um, tissue alert....
Dark thoughts, fell memories of dawnless days, dread-filled nights. Sorrow, that unwelcome and ill-bred companion, haunted him each year on this day. He reached out and trailed a finger along the stone hand grasping the stone standard. Memory, and this cold stone... they were all that remained.
He could not bring himself to look at the face. He never could, on this day. On other days, yes. But not today.
His throat burned and he turned away, and found an upturned face beside his knee, innocent grey eyes watching him, worrying.
"Ada, why does that statue make you so sad?"
Aragorn reached down and lifted his son to his hip. Glad that his little boy was not too old for such things. "I miss him," he said, not trusting himself to say more.
"Who is he?"
"An old friend."
"Did you play together?"
Aragorn smiled, remembering an impromptu wrestling match on a spring morn. "Sometimes."
"Tell me a story about him, Ada." Eldarion lay his head on Aragorn's shoulder, waiting.
Aragorn sat at the base of the statue, pulled Eldarion close. He cleared his throat, and forced himself to look at the face. "There once lived a Dunadan, named Halbarad..."
"15 March"
Rating: G
Characters and the phrase "dawnless day" are Tolkien's. I'm merely borrowing them.
Um, tissue alert....
Dark thoughts, fell memories of dawnless days, dread-filled nights. Sorrow, that unwelcome and ill-bred companion, haunted him each year on this day. He reached out and trailed a finger along the stone hand grasping the stone standard. Memory, and this cold stone... they were all that remained.
He could not bring himself to look at the face. He never could, on this day. On other days, yes. But not today.
His throat burned and he turned away, and found an upturned face beside his knee, innocent grey eyes watching him, worrying.
"Ada, why does that statue make you so sad?"
Aragorn reached down and lifted his son to his hip. Glad that his little boy was not too old for such things. "I miss him," he said, not trusting himself to say more.
"Who is he?"
"An old friend."
"Did you play together?"
Aragorn smiled, remembering an impromptu wrestling match on a spring morn. "Sometimes."
"Tell me a story about him, Ada." Eldarion lay his head on Aragorn's shoulder, waiting.
Aragorn sat at the base of the statue, pulled Eldarion close. He cleared his throat, and forced himself to look at the face. "There once lived a Dunadan, named Halbarad..."