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B2MeM Challenge: "And in that very moment, away behind in some courtyard of the city, a cock crowed. Shrill and clear he crowed, reckoning nothing on wizardry or war, welcoming only the morning that in the sky far above the shadows of death was coming with the dawn."—The Siege of Gondor. Idril had refused to leave the City when the other women were evacuated to Lossarnach. At her age what did it matter? She'd die soon enough in any case and much preferred to depart in her own bed, the bed in which she was born. And who would look after her cat and her chickens if she left? The wily Beren might be able to fend for himself, but Fëanor and her poor hens would end up on some soldier's dinner plate most likely. She wasn't having that, not if she could help it! Her chickens must be the last left in the city, come to think of it. Fëanor reigned supreme in her small courtyard, strutting around his domain , protecting her and his hens. If only this dreadful darkness would lift. It wasn't natural, it wasn't. It was putting the hens off Idril wondered if any of them would live to see the end of this day. The enemy had assailed the City all night and those terrible black riders were abroad. She had glimpsed one the other day, given her quite a turn it had. She'd never been so scared in her life and that was saying something. She doubted the City could stand much longer without reinforcements and where would they get some from? She could only hope her death might be swift and painless and her poor creatures would Master Maeglin the baker brought her what scraps of news he could gather in the streets. None of it was good. It was said that Lord Boromir had been slain in some faraway land. What had he been doing in foreign parts anyway? They had needed him here to command the men. He'd been a bit too full of himself Then Maeglin had heard that Lord Faramir had been struck down by some enemy weapon and now lay close to death. That was grim news indeed. She liked Lord Faramir. He had a nice way about him and always had a smile and a kindly word for the old folk like herself. If she'd had a son or a grandson, she'd have been proud to have one like him. Yet, it was said that Lord Denethor paid little heed to him, much preferring his brother. Well, he'd have to now, wouldn't he with Lord Boromir And what was Lord Denethor doing? Maeglin said he'd not been seen in days. Surely, he should be abroad overseeing the troops and If only Captain Thorongil were still here! Now he was indeed a great captain. He'd lift their spirits and drive those murdering devils away, he would! Idril thought wistfully of the one time she had met him. How long ago must it be since that day? At least forty years. No doubt Thorongil was long since dead. alas. He had been behind her at market one day and had picked up her gloves, which she had dropped without knowing in the crush of people surrounding the fish stall. He had handed them to her and smiled. Well, it was no use lying here in bed, brooding, Idril thought. It must be around She sat up, causing Beren to leap from his place on the bed And in that very moment, Fëanor broke his silence. Shrill and clear he crowed, reckoning nothing on wizardry or war, welcoming only the morning that in the sky far above the shadows of death was coming with the dawn.
It was then that she heard the horn calls in the distance. They were not the horns of the Enemy, but others, loud and clear. Help was coming! Maybe she and her brood would live to see another day.
Fëanor TBC
Wishing all my readers a happy, Easter, Passover and spring season. |
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