A Cold Wind
Námo is curled up in bed.
He's tired.
Worn.
And, Eru, he feels old.
All of the last few months caught up with him tonight, and he is nude under his quilts, the hound across his feet, both infants asleep in the crib. He'd taken them from Nerdanel so he could have something to focus on after leaving Gorlim with Eilinel.
It was lonely.
Made ever more acute by not even having that warmth of the Man in his mind.
Námo curls up a little tighter and begs for sleep to come.
He's tired.
Worn.
And, Eru, he feels old.
All of the last few months caught up with him tonight, and he is nude under his quilts, the hound across his feet, both infants asleep in the crib. He'd taken them from Nerdanel so he could have something to focus on after leaving Gorlim with Eilinel.
It was lonely.
Made ever more acute by not even having that warmth of the Man in his mind.
Námo curls up a little tighter and begs for sleep to come.