Fic: Hands

Friday, 4 May 2012 01:27
lily_dragonquill: (other: quill)
[personal profile] lily_dragonquill
Believe it or not, but following a dream I had last week, I actually got into writing again. Probably only a one off thing, but even so, it makes me happy :)


Title: Hands
Rating: G
Summary: Four vignettes where a hand says more than words can.

Thank you to [livejournal.com profile] dreamflower02 for betaing.




Year: Spring 1374
Prompt: Cousins



Frodo felt taunted. Here he was, sitting on the fence, chewing sorrel with his cousin. It should be a pleasant afternoon. It was supposed to be a pleasant afternoon, but he could not enjoy himself. It was Marmadoc’s fault. His older cousin was at the other end of the paddock, playing with some other boys. Older boys. They did not just sit on the fence. They stood on it, balancing precariously from one post to the next.

“You could do that too.” Merimac had followed his scowl. He seemed unimpressed by Marmadoc’s skill.

Frodo huffed in frustration. Of course, Merimac had no need to admire Marmadoc. Merimac had probably balanced across every beam in Buckland. If only Frodo could be like him. Then he would not just sit on fences, dangling his feet.

He started when Merimac’s outstretched hand appeared in front of him. “What are you waiting for?”

Frodo’s face brightened, yet he felt compelled to warn his cousin. “Mama will rip your head off if she finds out.”

“Don’t tell her”, Merimac shrugged and nodded for him to go on.

Frodo smiled and stretched out his arm, only to pull it back again. “You won’t let go, will you?”

“Have I ever?”

With a grin Frodo placed his hand in Merimac’s.



~*~*~



Year: 1380
Prompt: Touch



Adamanta had watched him for a while. He was so quiet tonight. She would have been concerned if it were not for the peace about him; a steady calm that seemed to radiate from him with every slow rise and fall of his chest. She had seen him like this only once before: on the night before he proposed to her.

Normally, Adamanta could read him like an open book. If he was not saying what was on his mind, he carried his emotions on his face. Not when he was like this. Marks of red and gold illuminated his face. Fire reflected from his eyes and shadows danced across his still figure. She wanted to share this moment with him, wanted to understand his peaceful contemplation, but she was loath to break the silence.

He never looked up as she walked towards him, yet her presence beside him did not go unnoticed. He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. He raised his head to smile at her. Adamanta felt the love in his gaze and for a moment she wondered how she could have been so lucky to end up here, at this very instant, with her hand in his. Without letting go of her fingers, Merimac placed their joined hands on her swollen belly. Adamanta thought she finally understood his silence.



~*~*~



Year: 1383
Prompt: Green



Adamanta smiled lovingly at her husband. He was nearly hidden from her view, green sheets pulled up to his nose. Dark curls spilled across the pillow and over his eyes, hiding them from her. She gently brushed them aside, but did not dare disturb him further. The first rays of sunlight peeked through their window, caressing his sleeping face. Adamanta could tell he was dreaming. The hand that rested lightly on his pillow twitched ever so slightly. Adamanta found herself drawn to that hand, mesmerised by its occasional movement. Unable to resist, she traced her fingers lightly across his. Merimac reacted instantly, grumbling in his sleep and pulling his hand a little to the side. Adamanta smiled wondering what role she had played in his dream. She was tempted to tease him some more, yet her desire for this moment to last predominated. This was the time when he was all hers. In the quiet of the early morning they might be all alone in the world No-one ever saw him as she did now and Adamanta intended to savour the moment. Silently, she placed her head beside his and, again, found her eyes drawn to his open palm. After a moment’s hesitation she carefully placed her hand in his. She was surprised when only seconds later his fingers closed over hers.



~*~*~



Year: early 1420
Prompt: Smoke



A wisp of smoke.

That was the first thing that came to his mind when Merimac saw the stranger sitting with his back to him. The Troubles had taken their toll on them all, but this one, it seemed, had suffered more than his fair share of sorrows. His hair still clung to the ebony of youth but it was the strands of silver that flashed in the firelight. His coat was thick and warm but even the wool could not hide the thinness beneath it. Long, bony fingers, their skin as pale as the mist on an early autumn morning, reached for a steaming cup. Merimac could see that the hands that held it shook ever so slightly. Was it cold or old age that made him tremble? Merimac thought the former, even though the room was as especially cosy on this winter evening.

He was about to turn away, made uneasy by the stranger’s ghostly transparency, when he caught his brother’s eye. He had not noticed Saradoc until his brother waved his hand at him. Merimac obligingly made for the table, when the stranger turned his head. His breath caught in his throat. His feet stopped mid-movement and for a moment he could not help but stare.

Frodo. He wanted to shout the name but his mouth was dry and his voice would not comply. Merry had told him his tale, Frodo’s tale of a ring, of war and suffering. He had warned them that their cousin had changed, but nothing could have prepared Merimac for what he saw now. He looked so old, so fragile. Frodo smiled, but there was pain in his eyes. He had suffered, there was no doubt about that, and to Merimac it seemed he was suffering still.

Like a wisp of smoke, dispersed by the slightest breeze.

“Cousin,” Frodo greeted him and Merimac reached for his maimed hand. It was cold to the touch and Merimac gently, protectively covered it with both his own. He wanted to warm it, heal it, heal him.

When he met Frodo’s eyes he knew his cousin had read his thought, yet Frodo did not pull away. Instead he gave the slightest nod, acknowledging what Merimac would never say out loud.

Like a wisp of smoke.

Without letting go of Frodo’s hand entirely, Merimac embraced his cousin and found the only words he could speak. “Welcome home.”


~The End~

(no subject)

Date: 5 May 2012 00:18 (UTC)
dreamflower: gandalf at bag end (Default)
From: [personal profile] dreamflower
Just wanted to tell you again how lovely all of these are! Your writing has not suffered for its hiatus!

(no subject)

Date: 6 May 2012 15:54 (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lily-the-hobbit.livejournal.com
Thank you so much! The hiatus is ongoing, but it's good to know there is still creativity in there - somewhere.

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