Title: "But Not A Drop To Drink..."
Characters: One of the Fellowship
Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only, and all rights remain with the estate of JRR Tolkien.
The water was dark, sluggish, he would rather go thirsty than drink it. Despite his thirst, or because of it, his thoughts roamed to other rivers, other water.
Sparkling, running, water; backdrop of sound to all memories of Imladris. Crystal jugs of soft, cool, water in Lorien. Water, gulped from a stream in Rohan, tasting of peat. Water, tepid, but welcome, washing away the taste of death at the Pellanor.
Water, dancing between trees, despite the Shadow. No! Shut out thoughts of home!
One day, he promised, he would return here, with other elves, and make it feel like home.