fileg (fileg) wrote,

For Mr Kinch

Mrkinch decided to test the strength of my heart this morning by writing this story.

Pip and Far were not happy. Neither was someone else. So, My Dear Mrkinch, this is for you


I heard the pounding of feet and although there seemed no way the enemy could have penetrated so far into the city yet, I swung about, hand at my hilt, and found my fellow guards, hurrying from the silent street. “The Steward calls for wood and oil,” they told me. “He will not suffer himself or Faramir to be taken while he still holds fate in his own grasp.”

My heart exploded in my breast. “Faramir has succumbed at last, brave heart!” I whispered.

“No…” they answered warily.

I could not stop them from their errand, but my heart knew my death was in the city today if it fell. I might as well fall as a man.

“Run!” I told Bathor and Mardem, shaking them in my terror. “Find Mithrandir. NOW!”

The look in my eyes gave them speed; they drew their weapons and ran for the stairs.

Heart and feet pounding, I drew my own sword and ran to the Rath Dínen.
Tags: arda, drabble, fiction

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