(no subject)
Nov. 12th, 2004 10:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanListening
I dreamt that you were weeping.
The nightmares I remember are tangled, jumbled; I am naked and frightened one moment, and being stripped of my clothes the next, forced to drink and eat of things best forgotten, and aching from blows that have not yet fallen. Twisted throughout are fevered imaginings: Pippin in bright armor, Merry riding among a host, Aragorn and Gimli and Legolas on a ship at sea, Gandalf's ghost on a white horse. False images. False hurts. Even the orcs did not do all that I imagined in my fear or I would bear the scars.
But as we lie here in the thornbrake, waiting for the night, there is time for you to tell your side of what befell. In your hoarse whisper I hear the tears you shed for me; the pain of the choice you made when you thought me dead, and the terror of the choice you made when you knew I lived. And memory comes back to me, of gentle hands that brushed the webs from my face and settled my unlimbered body like an image on an Elven tomb.
I dreamt that you were weeping.
But it was not a dream.
I dreamt that you were weeping.
The nightmares I remember are tangled, jumbled; I am naked and frightened one moment, and being stripped of my clothes the next, forced to drink and eat of things best forgotten, and aching from blows that have not yet fallen. Twisted throughout are fevered imaginings: Pippin in bright armor, Merry riding among a host, Aragorn and Gimli and Legolas on a ship at sea, Gandalf's ghost on a white horse. False images. False hurts. Even the orcs did not do all that I imagined in my fear or I would bear the scars.
But as we lie here in the thornbrake, waiting for the night, there is time for you to tell your side of what befell. In your hoarse whisper I hear the tears you shed for me; the pain of the choice you made when you thought me dead, and the terror of the choice you made when you knew I lived. And memory comes back to me, of gentle hands that brushed the webs from my face and settled my unlimbered body like an image on an Elven tomb.
I dreamt that you were weeping.
But it was not a dream.
