Blackberry Wine and Candles [May 3010]{Adanedhel and Saeros}
May 8, 2018 15:02:27 GMT -5
Post by AMARIË on May 8, 2018 15:02:27 GMT -5
Seven hundred years.
It seemed like a blink in the eyes of Amarië. He had been just a small elfling in her arms; tiny, sweet, tender; with his perfect little ears, and his bright blue eyes looking up at her. Barely had he cried then; he had been a contented infant. Contented to remain always in her arms, to listen to her sing to him, of the forests of Doriath; of the birds. Her ever present companion who had contented her soul, and drawn her back from grief. Her precious elfling. Seven hundred years, but still her elfling.
It would be just she and Adanedhel; as was the usual. On occasion Saeros had been present for the celebration of Adanedhel's life, though Amarië suspected it was only by accident that he would stumble home early from the training grounds on those days. Never had he taken much interest; in fact it often seemed as if he avoided it. Amarië was never able to meet his eyes on the day either. She would simply think of her Adanedhel. She would be there for her son.
In the common room of their connected quarters she had settled her son's favorite meal upon the table. A salad of fresh greens of the forest, topped with the first season's blackberries, and a sweet blackberry trifle on the side. She heard the footsteps of her son approaching and pulled a new bottle of blackberry wine from the cold running waters of the small rivulet which ran from the wall and disappeared through a culvert in the floor to join again with the main stream, settling it upon the table set for two. Amarië eyed the second bottle of wine left in the cooling water, considering that she may need that one for herself alone before the evening was finished. She lit the candles upon the table just as she heard the opening of the door.
It seemed like a blink in the eyes of Amarië. He had been just a small elfling in her arms; tiny, sweet, tender; with his perfect little ears, and his bright blue eyes looking up at her. Barely had he cried then; he had been a contented infant. Contented to remain always in her arms, to listen to her sing to him, of the forests of Doriath; of the birds. Her ever present companion who had contented her soul, and drawn her back from grief. Her precious elfling. Seven hundred years, but still her elfling.
It would be just she and Adanedhel; as was the usual. On occasion Saeros had been present for the celebration of Adanedhel's life, though Amarië suspected it was only by accident that he would stumble home early from the training grounds on those days. Never had he taken much interest; in fact it often seemed as if he avoided it. Amarië was never able to meet his eyes on the day either. She would simply think of her Adanedhel. She would be there for her son.
In the common room of their connected quarters she had settled her son's favorite meal upon the table. A salad of fresh greens of the forest, topped with the first season's blackberries, and a sweet blackberry trifle on the side. She heard the footsteps of her son approaching and pulled a new bottle of blackberry wine from the cold running waters of the small rivulet which ran from the wall and disappeared through a culvert in the floor to join again with the main stream, settling it upon the table set for two. Amarië eyed the second bottle of wine left in the cooling water, considering that she may need that one for herself alone before the evening was finished. She lit the candles upon the table just as she heard the opening of the door.