Tolkien Fan Fiction
| 15 |
| But the Scent Still Lingers |
An old woman remembers her first meeting of the new king. MEFAwards 2006: 2nd Place - Times: The Great Years: Gondor Fixed-Length Ficlet |
| There had been roses in my hair the last time I saw him. My cousin’s wedding to one of his soldiers, it had been. My hair had been dark then, long down my back. Now it is grey, bundled under a matron’s veil. We had danced, light-footedly gliding over the floor, my hands white against his black tunic. Now I am quickly short of breath, steps unsure, brown-spotted hands faintly trembling at times. He does not recognise me. But when he entered Faramir’s chamber, bringing hope and healing, I could smell the scent, the scent of roses of Imloth Melui. |
A/N: - “The weed is better than I thought. It reminds me of the roses of Imloth Melui when I was a lass, and no king could ask for better.” (RotK, The Houses of Healing) 24.05.06 B-drabble for Dwimordene, who wished for a drabble exploring the meaning of aging. |