Title: Tales of Old Wives
Rating: G
Main Characters: Pippin & Diamond, Merry & Estella, Sam & Rose
Disclaimer: The characters aren’t mine, but I sometimes sneak out with them for a cup of tea and a biscuit or two, or sit and watch them sleep.
Brief synopsis: Three drabbles: glimpses of sleeping Travellers, late summer, S.R. 1481.

Originally written for Marigold's Challenge #6, where she supplied the title and the author was responsible for the rest of the story. (See http://www.livejournal.com/users/marigoldg/ or Marigold's Recommendations for links to the Challenges; lots of excellent reading!)

Tales of Old Wives (three drabbles)

I watch him sleep.
Dark-golden curls spun into silver,
eyes tight shut in concentration,
as intent in sleep as in waking. He smiles...
Does he dream of grandchildren
spilling from his lap?
Of pony races, picnics, pleasurable nights?
Or of distant lands and faraway friends? ...he chuckles,
turns over, commences to snore.
I bless good dreams, nights unbroken by orcs
or trolls or darker things.
When the leaves fall, we’ll go South, he says,
to while away the winter in the warm.
We go often southwards, for it’s as much his land as is our own.
One day he’ll stay.

I watch him sleep.
Laugh lines slumber-smoothed, phantom youth returns
to soft-creased skin under my feathery caresses. He sighs...
For the moment cares fall away;
I see him in my minds-eye, wandering, stooping to finger a leaf,
“More grist for the Mill,” he laughs, more herb-lore for his collection.
He snuggles into my grasp and I hold him tightly, I know not why.
But I do know...
The days grow short as the years grow long.
He is my life, I am his.
His grief he has not forgot, but it did not darken his heart, it taught him wisdom.

I watch him sleep.
Large, work-worn hands soft, gentle in repose,
now tightening about an absent hilt; he mutters warning.
Sting hangs above the hearth, guarding his loved ones.
I soothe the furrowed brow. He breathes...
deep, relaxing breaths, half-turns and takes my hand;
still sleeping, pulls me close and curls around me.
Cupped together, we lie where no darkness can touch us.
In life I cling to him, for in the grave we’ll not lie so entwined. He’ll go...
He’s had so much to enjoy, and to be, and to do.
He shall not always be torn in two.