Characters: Faramir, Eowyn
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Tolkien
Note: I haven't written a drabble for a very long time. But here goes.
We Must Be Still and Still Moving
On his first day in the open he made it down to the river. There’s nothing peaceful about this river. Rippling, sinewy. Snowmelt-muscle. It will embrace him, if he wants to. It has room for all, the living and the dead.
He startles when she sits down near him. Matted hair, grey cloak. She sits without moving, her hands knotted on the ground beside her.
Years later Faramir remembers the day she came; weak and scared. The breath of the river against his face, the smell of new leaves and old snow and the cold pebble of her hand.