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book drabble
Apr. 11th, 2004 01:02 amIn Bree
Not one night has passed since I saw them lying in the barrow, their faces pale and still and the blade bright across their necks. They sleep better in this warm firelight. Sam snores, and Pippin winds the blanket round him as he turns. But Merry shivers -- even in sleep I see fear on his face. Does he dream of the wight, or of Black Riders? I rescue the blanket and cover him again. He tucks against me, the way he did when he was small. Heed no nightly noises, I whisper. The horns do not cry for you.
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Not one night has passed since I saw them lying in the barrow, their faces pale and still and the blade bright across their necks. They sleep better in this warm firelight. Sam snores, and Pippin winds the blanket round him as he turns. But Merry shivers -- even in sleep I see fear on his face. Does he dream of the wight, or of Black Riders? I rescue the blanket and cover him again. He tucks against me, the way he did when he was small. Heed no nightly noises, I whisper. The horns do not cry for you.
( links )
