My lord Celeborn! is the gasp from the border wardens. The Lady looks for you, every day - quickly, quickly, this way - she says nothing but the whispers all say, she is beginning to despair.
Galadriel sits in her waiting room, weaving hope into the cloth that will become the cloaks of the wardens, and has none for herself. It has been so very, very long, and he has sent no word, nor has there been rumour or whisper of him. If he is not dead, then he must be taken, for surely he would return to her else? No longer has she hope then, but he loved his people, and for his sake, she puts all her Art into her work, to keep the borders secure.
(is there a whisper, at the edges of the bond? she turns away, not daring to hope)
She does not weep - Nerwen Alatariel Aranfinwiel does not cry useless tears since the Ice - and her hands do not shake, but her heart aches, within her as she works.
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regna
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Date: 2022-10-17 01:31 am (UTC)Galadriel sits in her waiting room, weaving hope into the cloth that will become the cloaks of the wardens, and has none for herself. It has been so very, very long, and he has sent no word, nor has there been rumour or whisper of him. If he is not dead, then he must be taken, for surely he would return to her else? No longer has she hope then, but he loved his people, and for his sake, she puts all her Art into her work, to keep the borders secure.
(is there a whisper, at the edges of the bond? she turns away, not daring to hope)
She does not weep - Nerwen Alatariel Aranfinwiel does not cry useless tears since the Ice - and her hands do not shake, but her heart aches, within her as she works.