[Manardariel]

Midnight moon. Lady´s eyelash. Finduilas deeply enhaled the scent of the roses, naming each one as she leant down, beathing in. She had always loved roses, their deep smell, their intense beauty. Battlefield blood; Morning Glory. Who had named these flowers, who had given these divine descriptions. And who remeberes them now? She bent down, picking off a dying bloom. Carefully she put into her hand, stepping away from the flower beds. Then she took a deep breath. And blew. The pettles were immeadiatly grabbed by a gust of wind, speading out in all four corners of the world. As a child, she would have made a wish now. But where had her wishes brought her? Where in this cold world was there room for her wishes?

Someone lightly tapped her on the shoulder. She swung round.
“Oh, Denethor, it´s you!”
He smiled at her, his deep, sensitive eyes full of affection. “Hello, my dear. I´m sorry I didn´t see you earlier this morning. I was rather busy, you see?” She smiled back at him. He was such a gentle soul, and he would make such a good husband- indeed, such a gentle lover. She leaned against him. Finduilas was not very tall, and now Denethor seemed like a pillar of strength she could lean against- against all odds. A deep sigh escaped her. “What is it, my love?” Denethor gently touched her chin. “Are you ill?”

“No,” she said vaguely. “No, no, I´m fine.” He gently turned her around, looked her straight in the eye.
“Pelien?”

She nodded slowly. “I don´t understand, it´s so outrageous. How can she hate me so much, I -” She stopped. Denethor had layed his fingers on her lips. She closed her eyes, felt his arms around her waist, his shoulders on her cheeks, and then- his lips on hers.
They kissed. Long, gently, passionatly. After an eternity, they broke apart. Caressing her cheek, he murmered into her ear: “Don´t listen to them. They know nothing of you, but they don´t hate you.....” Tears of love and gratitude spilled on Finduilas´ cheeks, on her beloved´s shoulders.

Without speaking a word, Denethor took her hand. He lead her out of the garden, through the citadel, into the stables. Gently, he helped her onto his horse, got on behind her. They rode out of the city. Finduilas let out a delighted squeel as the mare galloped out at full spead. Denethor´s hands held her tight. The woind played with her hair. Oh Eru, she thought. Just look at us. Words are so silly. Just look into my heart. They rode along Mindolluin, and reached a small grove of trees. As sweet smell of blossom, of summer lingered in air. A bird burst into song. Lightly, full of elegance Denethor dismounted the horse, then helped her off. She tripped, stumbled, fell into his arms. He too lost his balance and they rolled along the floor, laughing like children, blissfully happy. They kissed some more, then sat down, talking. Laughing. Being silly, and childish. Or just in love.
“Catch me!” she called out, running off. He followed her, grabbing her tight. Holding her.

“I´ve caught you.” He wispered. “And I´m never, ever going to let you go.”

[ September 29, 2003: Message edited by: Manardariel ]