Winter Dreams

Beta: Half Elf Lost

8: a candle in the window

December 8th

One year.

One long, torturous year.

He still remembered the large tree in the Hall of Fire, elaborately decorated with glass ornaments and cookies the various children had made. He remembered retiring to their room, undressing her lovingly, caressing her creamy skin, and loving her well into the night. When they were sated and exhausted, they cuddled under a quilt her mother had given them and he had presented her with a box.

She opened it, gasped and giggled, watching the Elven couple turn and spin in the music box. Such a simple gift, a simple night full of magic and happiness.

Now he was surrounded by the ghosts of that past, the candle in the window flickering as if to remind her where he waited. There had been no tree decorated in the great hall this year. There had been no gifts, no festival, nothing. Their Lord and master mourned his wife, locking himself in his rooms, away from friends and family.

The music box sat on the floor in front of him, turning and spinning, the tinkling song echoing in the loneliness of the room. Shattered glass littered the floor; the pieces of ornaments reflected the light of the barely burning fire in the grate. It all belonged to a past he wished he could forget, to an Elf of silver hair and lyrical laughter he would not hear for a long time to come.

The candle continued to burn in the window, the music box continued to sing its solitary tune, and Elrond Half-Elven mourned for a time before all this sadness.

Before she left him with just memories.


	Navigation multi-part stories previous next		Winter Dreams Beta: Half Elf Lost 8: a candle in the window December 8th One year. One long, torturous year. He still remembered the large tree in the Hall of Fire, elaborately decorated with glass ornaments and cookies the various children had made. He remembered retiring to their room, undressing her lovingly, caressing her creamy skin, and loving her well into the night. When they were sated and exhausted, they cuddled under a quilt her mother had given them and he had presented her with a box. She opened it, gasped and giggled, watching the Elven couple turn and spin in the music box. Such a simple gift, a simple night full of magic and happiness. Now he was surrounded by the ghosts of that past, the candle in the window flickering as if to remind her where he waited. There had been no tree decorated in the great hall this year. There had been no gifts, no festival, nothing. Their Lord and master mourned his wife, locking himself in his rooms, away from friends and family. The music box sat on the floor in front of him, turning and spinning, the tinkling song echoing in the loneliness of the room. Shattered glass littered the floor; the pieces of ornaments reflected the light of the barely burning fire in the grate. It all belonged to a past he wished he could forget, to an Elf of silver hair and lyrical laughter he would not hear for a long time to come. The candle continued to burn in the window, the music box continued to sing its solitary tune, and Elrond Half-Elven mourned for a time before all this sadness. Before she left him with just memories.