Clouded Skies

B2MeM Challenge First lines – Ships at a distance; Tolkien's Trees- Pine: Snippets of verse=Old year roaring and blowing. Waters - clouds

Format: 500 word fixed length ficlet
Genre: general/ romance

Rating: PG

Warnings: none

Characters: Denethor

Pairings: Denethor/ Finduilas

Summary: Denethor awaits his bride.

These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board, so the old saying went. Denethor had not believed it until today. His bride to be was sailing along the Anduin with her entourage. By nightfall, she would be here and on the morrow, they would be wed.

Denethor had never known time pass as slowly as it had done these past weeks. He had fallen in love with Finduilas the moment he had set eyes upon her, a few months past. The old year had been roaring and blowing its way out on the day they had first met. At first, she had rejected his advances and cast longing glances at that upstart captain from the North, but once he had left on campaign, she had soon come to her senses and accepted his offer of marriage. Finduilas then had insisted on returning to Dol Amroth for two weeks to prepare for the wedding. Those weeks had been the longest of Denethor's life. He was determined that after tomorrow they would never be parted again.

Denethor had known that as the Steward's heir, he must marry and sire a son, but never had he expected his duty to be so pleasant. He was certain that even the Elf maidens in the tales of old, could not have surpassed Finduilas' beauty, grace, and sweetness of nature. Her hair was like silk, her eyes were brighter than the stars, her figure as slender as a birch, and her voice was sweeter than birdsong borne on the western wind.

Everything now lay in readiness for the coming of the bride. The Metherond was bedecked with willow and pine branches and scented spring blossoms.

Denethor paced his chambers restlessly. He tried to study a military report, but the words swam before his eyes. At last, he gave up the pretext of trying to work and made his way to the east end of the great outthrust battlement and looked out across the Pelennor towards the Great River, which lay like a giant ribbon stretching towards the distant sea.

Denethor rarely indulged in studying the view, but what he saw now, pleased him well. Was this not the fairest place in Middle-earth? Behind him lay the pine-clad mountain, while the fertile fields stretched in front of him. He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined riding across those fields with his bride and the children she would give him.

The breeze grew stronger while he stood there, waiting for Finduilas' ship to appear on the horizon. The high fluffy wisps of cloud gave way to dark edged storm clouds, which blew in from the East. Denethor shivered and drew his fur lined cloak more closely around himself'.

Then, he saw it, at first a mere speck on the horizon. He strained his keen eyes until he could make out the swan emblem upon the sails.

Finduilas was coming!

Just then, a great cloud obscured the sun completely and the rain began to fall.