Dwimordene's 2006 Birthday Drabbles
2. But the Scent Still Lingers - by Imhiriel
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.
- "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)
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.