West of the Moon

A Tolkien Fanfiction Archive

 

 

Elemental
Rain, wind, sun, frost; Frodo POV in four drabbles
Author: Angharad
Rating: G

 

If I think about the rain I think about the way your hair darkened and flattened and dripped into your shirt where the collar gaped a little and the way you hunched against it and grinned and looked up into it. And the way I shivered and grinned back and the splashed muddy puddles gathered at my feet and at your feet and we'd huddle under the old oak where leaves bent under the weight of water on them. And there was a quiet certainty and rain falling in the long meadow when we thought the world might wash away.

* * *


If I think about the wind I hear you laughing and see the way your cheeks turn pink as you tug on the kite string and then I might frown a little because you laugh too hard and the string tangles around your fingers and there is always dirt under your nails from the garden. And if the wind catches my voice and runs away with it the lambs dance after it and scatter across the pale bending grasses and you watch the sky and the yellow patched diamond against the blue and a tail of bright inconsequence after it.

* * *


If I think about the sun the days spin out in light through curtains where they catch and fold and shadows on the Water where the mill turns in endless lazy circles and warm reflections in the red-gold endings of the day; your skin is golden and a scent of mown hay and the honey on your lips where the summer songs kissed you just a moment ago and just a moment before I tasted you and the brightness in your eyes and slow sweet rot of cider through the presses and slow sweat of stolen stopped breath between us.

* * *


If I think about the frost where it breaks and dries the heart of hope and crackles on the window panes and flowers into impossible traceries I might wake into memory where it waits and sets in cold regret before the rain slakes me and before the wind carries me over the restless abandon of the sea crashing into bright splinters against the headland. And every breath is a clouded moment of eternity and wishing before the sun reminds me of the day grown in you. And if I touch the frost there's no abiding and no staying for you.

 

Back to Slash Story Listing