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Imhiriel's Drabbles
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But the Scent Still Lingers

An old woman remembers her first meeting of the new king.

MEFAwards 2006: 2nd Place - Times: The Great Years: Gondor Fixed-Length Ficlet


There had been roses in my hair the last time I saw him. My cousinís wedding to one of his soldiers, it had been. My hair had been dark then, long down my back. Now it is grey, bundled under a matronís veil.

We had danced, light-footedly gliding over the floor, my hands white against his black tunic. Now I am quickly short of breath, steps unsure, brown-spotted hands faintly trembling at times.

He does not recognise me. But when he entered Faramirís chamber, bringing hope and healing, I could smell the scent, the scent of roses of Imloth Melui.


- ďThe weed is better than I thought. It reminds me of the roses of Imloth Melui when I was a lass, and no king could ask for better.Ē (RotK, The Houses of Healing)

24.05.06 B-drabble for Dwimordene, who wished for a drabble exploring the meaning of aging.


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