| Harthad Uluithiad: Hope Unquenchable I've been dreaming, haven't I ? Sweet-scented air gentles about me, sun-light caught warm by the vault of golden-limbed trees. I feel……. at peace. How long have I slept? How….. long…. and where……. where is Sam? A long un-heard voice speaks my name, a hand, too large for hobbit-kind, falls upon my shoulder. Strider. Not for the first time in our acquaintance, he helps me rise. Beyond him, a cot embraces a still'd form. No. How very small he looks against the down of the pillow. I never thought I should call him fragile, but that is how he seem to me, now: worn, weary lines of worry gathered by his eyes, ragged-edged gash open upon his brow. His feet. Red-blotched linen binds them. Oh. I kneel beside him. I remember. He said he would carry me, like…. a child's game….. he said…. he did ……. Oh, he did. In shame and sorrow, I take his hand. He will never let me tell the balance, the fullness of this tale: how ever he was there… how ever he cared (and carried), held and hoped. And when, at the last, my own hope left me, he became Hope, and with his simple strength, held us both to life. Hope unending, hope unrelenting, hope undying…. My hope… Our hope…. Hope unquenchable. |
Bronwe Athan Harthad: Endurance Beyond Hope He thinks he failed, you know….. and that which will ever remind him is ever there, there, at his finger-tips…. or the pained lack thereof. I cannot, yet I must meet his eyes, I must, lest he think that I believe (as he does) that he is nothing. So much sorrow, so much regret, so much emptiness live there. So that I may not see (and that he may not see me purposefully not seeing), I brace him against my shoulder. He does not move, does not speak as my hands, my unbroken hands, wind the spoilt whiteness from his. A basin of gem-embraced mithril would not be good enough for him. I did not ask for one. As if he were a child, small beyond all understanding, I take his whole hand in mine, and place the other within the homely plainness of blue-veined stoneware. His head grows heavy upon my shoulder. I cannot see to tell if he sleeps. No matter. The restful warmth of kings-foil floats within the water, scents the air with peace. My own eyes grow heavy, falling to quiet, painless dream……… Master: there is one thing you should know….. one thing you must believe. Frodo…… I was there and I know…. (none better)…. you did not fail. Dear Master….. you endured….. beyond all darkness, beyond all evil, beyond all hope, you endured. |