Characters: Denethor, Thorongil, Boromir
Disclaimer: Not mine, merely borrowed for 100 words.
Author's note: For the "White" challenge
The new father, brow furrowed in concentration, holds his child on a blanket spread over his lap. Bit by bit, he unfastens white linen swaddling and examines this extraordinary gift, this treasure. His eyes alight with joy and wonder, he marvels at the dark silken hair, the tiny perfect fingers, the milky-dreaming mouth.
Is that a lullabye he softly sings?
Care you know not,
While I o'er you watch do keep.
Sleep, my little son,
Do not cry…
Thorongil watches from the shadow, almost sick with envy and despair. Will he ever hold a son of his own?