![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
claudia603A tiny little LOTR ficlet I wrote off the cuff again just now! :) It's a little longer than a drabble, and it was inspired by my longing for a Frodo and Aragorn hug when Frodo wakes up at the end of ROTK! :))) It's gen (non-slash), but Frodo/Aragorn people, you can probably read some pre-slash into it if you want! :)
If Frodo had known that so much light and joy could be possible again, there would have been no need for Sam to carry him in those last black days in Mordor. He would have dashed up the mountain in one breath in order to behold the sight that now surrounded him. He looked around at his friends, healthy and healed and clean, their eyes shining, and he lifted his face to the sun, warm and golden through the windows. The sun in his own heart, blighted until then by gray despair, caught fire with new splendor.
Laughter and light chatter, jests and joyful music, all fantastical, unreal, wonderful -- Sam's loving gaze upon him, Gimli's hearty jests, Legolas strumming a delicate harp, Merry and Pippin chattering, and Gandalf's smoke rings.
But perhaps it is just a vision and I am lying beaten, near death, by the side of the fiery mountain or in the Dark Tower, perhaps we have all perished, but if so, I shall take it.
Aragorn peeked his head inside the healing room. He was dressed in rich fabrics, the keen light of ancient kings in his eyes. His eyes softened as he smiled at Frodo and strode to the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed and gave Frodo a hearty embrace, so strong that Frodo could hardly breathe for a moment. Frodo flung his arms around Aragorn's neck.
"Strider," Frodo said. "It's wonderful to see you again."
"I never lost faith that we would meet again," Aragorn said.
They held each other for a long time, two dear friends, Ring-bearer and King.
If Frodo had known that so much light and joy could be possible again, there would have been no need for Sam to carry him in those last black days in Mordor. He would have dashed up the mountain in one breath in order to behold the sight that now surrounded him. He looked around at his friends, healthy and healed and clean, their eyes shining, and he lifted his face to the sun, warm and golden through the windows. The sun in his own heart, blighted until then by gray despair, caught fire with new splendor.
Laughter and light chatter, jests and joyful music, all fantastical, unreal, wonderful -- Sam's loving gaze upon him, Gimli's hearty jests, Legolas strumming a delicate harp, Merry and Pippin chattering, and Gandalf's smoke rings.
But perhaps it is just a vision and I am lying beaten, near death, by the side of the fiery mountain or in the Dark Tower, perhaps we have all perished, but if so, I shall take it.
Aragorn peeked his head inside the healing room. He was dressed in rich fabrics, the keen light of ancient kings in his eyes. His eyes softened as he smiled at Frodo and strode to the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed and gave Frodo a hearty embrace, so strong that Frodo could hardly breathe for a moment. Frodo flung his arms around Aragorn's neck.
"Strider," Frodo said. "It's wonderful to see you again."
"I never lost faith that we would meet again," Aragorn said.
They held each other for a long time, two dear friends, Ring-bearer and King.