Characters: Aragorn, OC (grandchild)
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Tolkien.
Note: Double-drabble 200 words. This drabble alludes to this one: http://tolkien-weekly.livejournal.com/678645.html
In the Night Garden
Aragorn watched the Moth from a stone-bench as she picked herbs in the closed-off garden by the Houses of Healing. She wore thin leather gloves; these plants were both killers and healers. Their flowers pushed drooping bald heads up among oily leaves...exuding an acrid smell.
Above stars hung like clusters of translucent mist. Starlight suited her...she was a nocturnal creature.
Aragorn closed his eyes...overcome by tiredness out of reach of rest and potions.
He's invaded by relentless memories. He smells desert-sand off his pillow. Cracks open in walls to shadow-speckled forests beyond...and close again. He feels half memory, half flesh.
He knows the signs.
He became aware that the Moth stood in front of him. Her gaze both compassionate and coolly assessing. A healer's gaze.
He locked eyes with her. Tried to tell what he couldn't yet put into words...what he couldn't tell Arwen...
The eyes of the Moth filled with tears as he bespoke her in silence...but her gaze never waivered.
Aragorn put a hand on her shoulder and pulled himself up. He let it remain there as they walked back in tune through the dusky-pink dawn of the City. A stooped grey-eyed king...and a straight grey-eyed girl.