(no subject)
Ye olde Lyric Table
Title: Only
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Characters: Finduilas/Denethor, mentions of Imrahil and Thorongil
Prompt: 50: it doesn't mean much; it doesn't mean anything at all
Word Count: 136
Rating: G
Summary: Nothing had truly been worth changing her mind for, but Finduilas begins to do so anyway.
Author's Notes: Not my characters. Finally, a drabble that stayed a drabble and didn't morph into a Gigantic Crackbunny of Doom. I've been getting too many of the latter lately, and none of them finished. Third part in a mini-series of ficlets, following up on "In Graying Twilight" and "Sisterly Love." I cheated a bit on the prompts and labelled the fic I'd originally had under this prompt under #10, since it works just as well there.
It had only been a dance. As such, it was nothing different from anything she had done with even her father or brother. Imrahil was a better dancer, honestly, although the Steward’s son had at least accomplished a single waltz without trodding upon her feet. Still, it was nothing like being carried away in Thorongil’s arms as she had dreamed about.
It had only been a kiss. He had been much more tenative than tender, and inexperience had made him clumsy. Besides, being kissed upon the forehead made her feel like a young girl, not the self-assured, mysterious foreign princess she hoped might win Thorongil’s heart.
So why did the gray eyes that haunted her dreams seem darker tonight? Why did that stare that followed her seem almost… comforting? Finduilas could hardly wait to return home.
Title: Only
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Characters: Finduilas/Denethor, mentions of Imrahil and Thorongil
Prompt: 50: it doesn't mean much; it doesn't mean anything at all
Word Count: 136
Rating: G
Summary: Nothing had truly been worth changing her mind for, but Finduilas begins to do so anyway.
Author's Notes: Not my characters. Finally, a drabble that stayed a drabble and didn't morph into a Gigantic Crackbunny of Doom. I've been getting too many of the latter lately, and none of them finished. Third part in a mini-series of ficlets, following up on "In Graying Twilight" and "Sisterly Love." I cheated a bit on the prompts and labelled the fic I'd originally had under this prompt under #10, since it works just as well there.
It had only been a dance. As such, it was nothing different from anything she had done with even her father or brother. Imrahil was a better dancer, honestly, although the Steward’s son had at least accomplished a single waltz without trodding upon her feet. Still, it was nothing like being carried away in Thorongil’s arms as she had dreamed about.
It had only been a kiss. He had been much more tenative than tender, and inexperience had made him clumsy. Besides, being kissed upon the forehead made her feel like a young girl, not the self-assured, mysterious foreign princess she hoped might win Thorongil’s heart.
So why did the gray eyes that haunted her dreams seem darker tonight? Why did that stare that followed her seem almost… comforting? Finduilas could hardly wait to return home.