Disclaimer: These characters belong to Tolkien. I make no money from this
In the Moonlight
The harvest moon emerges like a golden curve out of the dusk...hanging on the horizon like an eye.
But under its pale gaze she can feel the distance between them...words crumble before they are uttered.
They are still readjusting to living...healing takes time.
Eowyn moves a hand through the silence and let her fingertips touch Faramir’s hair. He holds himself still and then tilts his head towards her.
She brushes the curvature of his temple with her mouth. His skin has a taste of sweat and meadow grass...and a sweet tingle of sorrow that lingers on her lips like salt.