Flower challenge - Snowdrops - Forget-me-nots
Title: Nosegays
Author: Kortirion
Character: Finduilas
Rating: G [warning for depiction of depression]
Source: Pre-Ring War
Disclaimer: Tolkien’s world and those therein
Snowdrops… fat bundles of white petals delicately suspended on supple stalks among sheaves of dainty sword-like shoots… the noble grass among winter snows. Not that they let any animals browse among the terraced flower and herb gardens of the Houses of Healing.
Good for clearing the mind, the herbalists said… Good for forcing your moon-flows, the maids whispered. Which should she use it for?
Finduilas was sure her womb had quickened a second time - that should be to her joy, but somehow… she was afraid. Yet, she told herself, they can also symbolise Hope… even when none’s to be seen.
Forget-me-nots… tiny fragments of sky scattered so thickly in the greenery that from a distance the earth appeared to breathe blue mists into the early morning air.
Winter’s hesitancy had become this season’s certainty. Without the help of snowdrops her menses had arrived… but three months later, she was sure; her maids were sure, even Amah, grudgingly returned at her Lady’s summons, acknowledged the inevitable - Lord Denethor would have another child!
A Winter son... although privately Finduilas hoped for a daughter. Maybe with eyes blue as forget-me-nots... blue as winter skies... blue as the longed for seas of Dol Amroth...
Author: Kortirion
Character: Finduilas
Rating: G [warning for depiction of depression]
Source: Pre-Ring War
Disclaimer: Tolkien’s world and those therein
Snowdrops… fat bundles of white petals delicately suspended on supple stalks among sheaves of dainty sword-like shoots… the noble grass among winter snows. Not that they let any animals browse among the terraced flower and herb gardens of the Houses of Healing.
Good for clearing the mind, the herbalists said… Good for forcing your moon-flows, the maids whispered. Which should she use it for?
Finduilas was sure her womb had quickened a second time - that should be to her joy, but somehow… she was afraid. Yet, she told herself, they can also symbolise Hope… even when none’s to be seen.
Forget-me-nots… tiny fragments of sky scattered so thickly in the greenery that from a distance the earth appeared to breathe blue mists into the early morning air.
Winter’s hesitancy had become this season’s certainty. Without the help of snowdrops her menses had arrived… but three months later, she was sure; her maids were sure, even Amah, grudgingly returned at her Lady’s summons, acknowledged the inevitable - Lord Denethor would have another child!
A Winter son... although privately Finduilas hoped for a daughter. Maybe with eyes blue as forget-me-nots... blue as winter skies... blue as the longed for seas of Dol Amroth...