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Jan. 20th, 2006 08:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
claudia603Here is a drabble for a sloooow Friday night. :-)
Whenever Frodo laughs, a chill travels from his shoulder, down his arm, and worms into his heart. Faramir’s eyes cloud with concern when he grimaces and shivers, but he will never admit, even to his dear heart, how much his wound troubles him. Faramir might think it best not to goad him into laughter. So Frodo lies and says a North breeze has caught him unaware or that he has foolishly bit his tongue.
Ithilien blooms with roses, and the sun shines in a brilliant sky free of shadow.
And every time Frodo laughs, the chill is a little less.
Whenever Frodo laughs, a chill travels from his shoulder, down his arm, and worms into his heart. Faramir’s eyes cloud with concern when he grimaces and shivers, but he will never admit, even to his dear heart, how much his wound troubles him. Faramir might think it best not to goad him into laughter. So Frodo lies and says a North breeze has caught him unaware or that he has foolishly bit his tongue.
Ithilien blooms with roses, and the sun shines in a brilliant sky free of shadow.
And every time Frodo laughs, the chill is a little less.