FIC: The Green Lady (LotR)
Title: The Green Lady
Author: Galadriel (caras_galadhon)
Fandom: LotR
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Rating: G
Archive: Lothlorien and sons_of_gondor.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Disclaimer: I have a vivid fantasy life, but I do not pretend to be JRR Tolkien, nor do I pretend to own his characters.
Summary: Aragorn is gifted with a vision of the forest.
Notes: For Halloween, I wrote ficlets for people who "knocked" on my virtual!door. (Final total: 12.) ribby, my first visitor, appeared dressed as the Green Lady (close cousin to the Green Man), clothed in a "long full green dress with autumn leaves and acorns on it, green slippers, [and] leather mask," and armed with pumpkin bread. Originally posted in this thread here, this is a slightly tidied up version.
The Green Lady
By Galadriel
Aragorn had long since settled into a life tinged by the Sight of his people, long since learned to let the flickers of the future flow out before his eyes. But it was rare for even he to see a spirit of the wood, even in a forest so full as Lórien.
He caught little more than a glance, a fluttering of the carpet of moss that was her cloak, a glimpse of earth bursting forth in fecundity, withering, crumbling and springing to life again under her feet. Yet a hundred thousand springs, summers, falls and winters were born, died and reborn in that moment; his one moment with her.
She loosed her hair, let it tumble down her back in waves of red, gold and gleaming brown. Autumn leaves, bound in its tresses, floated free. She smiled at him, her lips shaping a word he could not discern as she slipped into shadow between the trees and was gone.
Aragorn sighed, surprised to find himself shaken by her passing. His eyes caught the last movements of the leaves she'd left behind, watching each one gently settle -- scattered as if by art, not nature -- across Boromir's bedroll.
There was a message in it, of that he was certain. But what gift the Green Lady had given him would remain obscure for the present. It would need pondering, and Aragorn could think of no better partner in quiet reflection than the brooding son of Gondor.
He rose, intent on seeking out such quiet companionship. A slight hesitation in his stride, a brief bend at the waist, and he found himself holding one of the Lady's leaves. He tucked it into his tunic; it was a strange omen, but one he would keep close. And with that future pressed against his breast, he stepped forward, seeking out answers alongside the Steward's son.
END
(November 1, 2007; November 15, 2007)
Crossposted to sons_of_gondor, athelingas, rugbytackle.
Author: Galadriel (caras_galadhon)
Fandom: LotR
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Rating: G
Archive: Lothlorien and sons_of_gondor.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Disclaimer: I have a vivid fantasy life, but I do not pretend to be JRR Tolkien, nor do I pretend to own his characters.
Summary: Aragorn is gifted with a vision of the forest.
Notes: For Halloween, I wrote ficlets for people who "knocked" on my virtual!door. (Final total: 12.) ribby, my first visitor, appeared dressed as the Green Lady (close cousin to the Green Man), clothed in a "long full green dress with autumn leaves and acorns on it, green slippers, [and] leather mask," and armed with pumpkin bread. Originally posted in this thread here, this is a slightly tidied up version.
The Green Lady
By Galadriel
Aragorn had long since settled into a life tinged by the Sight of his people, long since learned to let the flickers of the future flow out before his eyes. But it was rare for even he to see a spirit of the wood, even in a forest so full as Lórien.
He caught little more than a glance, a fluttering of the carpet of moss that was her cloak, a glimpse of earth bursting forth in fecundity, withering, crumbling and springing to life again under her feet. Yet a hundred thousand springs, summers, falls and winters were born, died and reborn in that moment; his one moment with her.
She loosed her hair, let it tumble down her back in waves of red, gold and gleaming brown. Autumn leaves, bound in its tresses, floated free. She smiled at him, her lips shaping a word he could not discern as she slipped into shadow between the trees and was gone.
Aragorn sighed, surprised to find himself shaken by her passing. His eyes caught the last movements of the leaves she'd left behind, watching each one gently settle -- scattered as if by art, not nature -- across Boromir's bedroll.
There was a message in it, of that he was certain. But what gift the Green Lady had given him would remain obscure for the present. It would need pondering, and Aragorn could think of no better partner in quiet reflection than the brooding son of Gondor.
He rose, intent on seeking out such quiet companionship. A slight hesitation in his stride, a brief bend at the waist, and he found himself holding one of the Lady's leaves. He tucked it into his tunic; it was a strange omen, but one he would keep close. And with that future pressed against his breast, he stepped forward, seeking out answers alongside the Steward's son.
END
(November 1, 2007; November 15, 2007)
Crossposted to sons_of_gondor, athelingas, rugbytackle.