TM Prompt: Ficlet on the color Blue
After a particularly vivid dream, Faramir must go to the river's edge.
Into the wee hours, Faramir stood watching. His dreams had been bewildering of late, but with absolute clarity, the one this night had brooked no denial. He could not un-see what he had seen in that dream, and the sending was so clear, so sharp, Anduin rendered in absolutes, that he left his bed, took horse, and rode as a man possessed.
When he reached Anduin's banks, he dismounted, the sides of the horse quivering from the hard gallop of the last hour. Yet Faramir did not tend his mount, as he normally would have done. Instead, he walked to the river's edge, and waited. This is the bend in the river I saw. This was the place of my dream. He stood, patiently, with the fierce need to be certain that his dream was wrong.
As pale fingers of dawn crept over the treetops, he watched, the blackened face of the river turning hazy, then to a dark green that verged into blue in places. This is how I will know it. When the river color is unlike my dream, I will know it to be a lie.
Yet the river kept lightening, from grey-green to a dark blue, with a filmy mist rising in places, and fear clutched Faramir's heart. Anduin's waters ran deep and dark, and rarely paled to this color. The very color of his dream, a mottled blue. With rising terror, his eyes turned upstream.
And the boat floated around the river bend. Carved in Elvish fashion, beautiful in all its lines. Quaking, he grasped for hope where none remained. Just as I dreamed it. Eru, what is become of you, Boromir?
Into the wee hours, Faramir stood watching. His dreams had been bewildering of late, but with absolute clarity, the one this night had brooked no denial. He could not un-see what he had seen in that dream, and the sending was so clear, so sharp, Anduin rendered in absolutes, that he left his bed, took horse, and rode as a man possessed.
When he reached Anduin's banks, he dismounted, the sides of the horse quivering from the hard gallop of the last hour. Yet Faramir did not tend his mount, as he normally would have done. Instead, he walked to the river's edge, and waited. This is the bend in the river I saw. This was the place of my dream. He stood, patiently, with the fierce need to be certain that his dream was wrong.
As pale fingers of dawn crept over the treetops, he watched, the blackened face of the river turning hazy, then to a dark green that verged into blue in places. This is how I will know it. When the river color is unlike my dream, I will know it to be a lie.
Yet the river kept lightening, from grey-green to a dark blue, with a filmy mist rising in places, and fear clutched Faramir's heart. Anduin's waters ran deep and dark, and rarely paled to this color. The very color of his dream, a mottled blue. With rising terror, his eyes turned upstream.
And the boat floated around the river bend. Carved in Elvish fashion, beautiful in all its lines. Quaking, he grasped for hope where none remained. Just as I dreamed it. Eru, what is become of you, Boromir?