fileg (fileg) wrote,


I wrote this for the prompt "Blade" at tolkien_weekly, but you will not find it there, because in spite of being cut back twice, I could not get it to 100 words - it stands firm here at 200, which was the best I could do. And it doesn't trespass canon, but it is quite visibly fileg-verse.

Well, at least I'm in time for Victory over Sauron day tomorrow (or today, depending on where you are....)

In happier times the Pelennor had overflowed with crops and flowers, vying with fair Ithilien just across the water for the title of Gondor’s garden. In his own lifetime, her fields were visited less often by traders than by rows of soldiers passing along her paths on their way to the causeway forts, or Osgiliath beyond.

This year's crop was blood and ash, plowed deep by engines of war. Yet amid the devastation, the first scattered clumps of grass were struggling to greet the spring rains.

Faramir knelt and touched the tiny blades, imagining all the broken swords being turned back into new life. The urge to pluck one and carry it with him was strong, but he could not bear to thwart them in the battle they had taken on. Life runs in circles, and he too had survived to see it begin again.

Later, as they sat on the terrace sharing a bottle of wine, his thoughts ran back and he could feel again the new life, juicy and sweet, passing between his thumb and forefinger.

“What are you thinking?” Elessar asked, amused by his steward’s far away look.

Faramir smiled. “Actually,” he replied softly, “I was thinking about Blade…”

Everything belongs to the professor and his estate.
I am always grateful for the words it brings to me.

good grief! Getting that first word down was like pulling teeth.
I know kortirion went to a similar image, but I hope my path veers away enough not to tread on her toes.

I can't believe how long it's been since that first story... and this really early icon
Tags: arda, drabble, fic

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