As All Things Must, by Elleth
Mar. 25th, 2015 12:40 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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curiouswombat, steps (a picture prompt).
Format: Ficlet
Genre: Gen
Rating: General
Warnings: None. Morbidity, maybe?
Characters: Tar-Míriel, OFCs
Pairings: Implied/background, nothing central.
Summary: Míriel and her maidens go bathing in the harbour.
Míriel shook the water from her hair and lifted her arms to let Nénumë, her chief and most beloved handmaiden, wrap her in a soft towel. She smiled, faintly, at the sense of freedom to briefly come and go as she pleased, while Pharazôn was inspecting the building of the armada with the Zigûr always at his heels.
A shriek and a loud splash interrupted her musings, making Míriel laugh.
Sandannë and Ilmairë, the only other two of her retinue she trusted fully, continued playing in the water while Míriel was ascending the harbour stairs, her hand on the old, rusted railing. When her hand went around it, the metal shuddered, listing a little to the side, threatening to break from the stone. It had been there ever since the first time her father had taken her to Andúnië when she had been a child, likely before - she could recall no time when the wrought iron had not been red with rust, the steps not gnawed by salt water. The next storm or flood would surely lay it in ruin, as all things must be ruined - as she prayed her husband must, sooner rather than later.
She banished the thought with a shake of her head; such a rare, pleasant day was not for brooding.
“Come, you two!” she called from the quay, and both of them halted. Sandannë was the first to obey, swimming toward the stairs and pausing on the lowest step, to wait for her friend. But something mischievous twitched in Ilmairë’s face then, and she renewed her assault with sudden vigour, churned waves toward Sandannë that surged over her head and splashed halfway up the stairs. The boats along the quay danced.
Míriel’s heart contracted painfully at the sight of the glassy walls of water and spray coasting toward her. Her handmaidens’ spluttering laughter dimmed in her ears until the roar of some other wave rolling in from the west over the hills threatened to overtake her, and she swore she was drowning, although the water never touched her feet.
Nénumë’s arms went around her, eased her down, lips touched her temple. “Lady, all is well. A vision again?”
Her concerned face swam into view, the cloudless, high sky as a backdrop, Sandannë and Ilmairë penitent to the side.
“Yes,” Míriel heard herself say, and to her surprise there was laughter in her voice through the aftershocks of terror. “And all will be well; all will be well! As all things must!”
curiouswombat, steps (a picture prompt). Format: Ficlet
Genre: Gen
Rating: General
Warnings: None. Morbidity, maybe?
Characters: Tar-Míriel, OFCs
Pairings: Implied/background, nothing central.
Summary: Míriel and her maidens go bathing in the harbour.
Míriel shook the water from her hair and lifted her arms to let Nénumë, her chief and most beloved handmaiden, wrap her in a soft towel. She smiled, faintly, at the sense of freedom to briefly come and go as she pleased, while Pharazôn was inspecting the building of the armada with the Zigûr always at his heels.
A shriek and a loud splash interrupted her musings, making Míriel laugh.
Sandannë and Ilmairë, the only other two of her retinue she trusted fully, continued playing in the water while Míriel was ascending the harbour stairs, her hand on the old, rusted railing. When her hand went around it, the metal shuddered, listing a little to the side, threatening to break from the stone. It had been there ever since the first time her father had taken her to Andúnië when she had been a child, likely before - she could recall no time when the wrought iron had not been red with rust, the steps not gnawed by salt water. The next storm or flood would surely lay it in ruin, as all things must be ruined - as she prayed her husband must, sooner rather than later.
She banished the thought with a shake of her head; such a rare, pleasant day was not for brooding.
“Come, you two!” she called from the quay, and both of them halted. Sandannë was the first to obey, swimming toward the stairs and pausing on the lowest step, to wait for her friend. But something mischievous twitched in Ilmairë’s face then, and she renewed her assault with sudden vigour, churned waves toward Sandannë that surged over her head and splashed halfway up the stairs. The boats along the quay danced.
Míriel’s heart contracted painfully at the sight of the glassy walls of water and spray coasting toward her. Her handmaidens’ spluttering laughter dimmed in her ears until the roar of some other wave rolling in from the west over the hills threatened to overtake her, and she swore she was drowning, although the water never touched her feet.
Nénumë’s arms went around her, eased her down, lips touched her temple. “Lady, all is well. A vision again?”
Her concerned face swam into view, the cloudless, high sky as a backdrop, Sandannë and Ilmairë penitent to the side.
“Yes,” Míriel heard herself say, and to her surprise there was laughter in her voice through the aftershocks of terror. “And all will be well; all will be well! As all things must!”
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