1. From Edoraslass
Ok, for continunity's sake, I'm going to put both here -
First is one I wrote Aliana for non-birthday reasons; second is the actual b-day gift. I still can't come up with a title I like for the first one..Happy Birthday, Aliana!
******
The men of Minas Tirith are certainly fair, but there is something which draws me to these Rohirrim.
I have observed them while I gather up soiled bandages. They are a warm and open people, laughing as easily as weeping, even here in the Houses, where death is too prominent.
Sometimes I hear them singing quietly, and wonder what the words mean.
“Your pardon.”
The accent is thick, yet the words roll in a most pleasing manner.
I turn from my basket and forget to breathe.
Here is the one I have watched most, with his deep blue eyes and dark gold hair, looking as if he has just torn across the plains a-horseback.
“Can you tell me where to find the Lady Eowyn? I have messages to deliver.”
He smiles his thanks as I direct him toward the proper hallway, and I discover that I have both found and lost my heart.
******
Musing
She is neither healer nor herbalist; she is the girl who collects old bandages and brings new.
But once I saw her help hold down a man - one of my fellow Riders- whose leg had to be amputated, and, though her face went white and the queasiness was clearly written on her face, she did not loosen her hold.
She always has time for a kind word or warm smile for bored men who are not yet healed enough to leave the Houses.
Yesterday I asked her for directions to Lady Eowyn’s room .Her cheeks flushed pink when my gaze met her shining grey eyes, and my heart leapt, for I had not dared hope.
I must find out if she is spoken for.
First is one I wrote Aliana for non-birthday reasons; second is the actual b-day gift. I still can't come up with a title I like for the first one..Happy Birthday, Aliana!
******
The men of Minas Tirith are certainly fair, but there is something which draws me to these Rohirrim.
I have observed them while I gather up soiled bandages. They are a warm and open people, laughing as easily as weeping, even here in the Houses, where death is too prominent.
Sometimes I hear them singing quietly, and wonder what the words mean.
“Your pardon.”
The accent is thick, yet the words roll in a most pleasing manner.
I turn from my basket and forget to breathe.
Here is the one I have watched most, with his deep blue eyes and dark gold hair, looking as if he has just torn across the plains a-horseback.
“Can you tell me where to find the Lady Eowyn? I have messages to deliver.”
He smiles his thanks as I direct him toward the proper hallway, and I discover that I have both found and lost my heart.
******
Musing
She is neither healer nor herbalist; she is the girl who collects old bandages and brings new.
But once I saw her help hold down a man - one of my fellow Riders- whose leg had to be amputated, and, though her face went white and the queasiness was clearly written on her face, she did not loosen her hold.
She always has time for a kind word or warm smile for bored men who are not yet healed enough to leave the Houses.
Yesterday I asked her for directions to Lady Eowyn’s room .Her cheeks flushed pink when my gaze met her shining grey eyes, and my heart leapt, for I had not dared hope.
I must find out if she is spoken for.
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.
