Disclaimer: Of course, I don't own anything. Silly moose.


~Your war drum ain't louder/ Than this breath~

Suheir Hammad


War Drums

A halt had come to the fighting during the night and now both sides seemed uncertain of what was going to happen next. Now ashes were gently falling from the sky as though they were falling from the clouds. Aelswyth turned her head up slightly and sheilded her keen eyes from the falling particulates. The clouds were heavy and yes, there would be rain but... But this was clearly not rain or snow.

"Ashes," she muttered, holding a hand out to let them collect in her open palm. They were still warm on her skin, on her face, in her hair. Snow, she thought as the palm of her hand filled up with warm, downy fluff. Despite the heat in the air and the soft stuff in her hand was not snow, she was reminded of the fractured Northern Kingdom. She thought of the snow falling in much the same way as the ashes that now filled the sky. She thought of the trees in Firith as they shed their leaves. She thought of her mother and father as she wove in and out of a forest of old oaks, all of them great and tall and magnificent. Boromir came up to her side as though he were coming out of thin air.

"Come inside," he urged quietly and quickly.

She smiled at him and shook her head, ash falling from her hair.

"It's too dangerous for you to be out here alone," he continued, clearly growing impatient with her. He held out his gauntleted hand and Aelswyth took it.

The ashes, like snow, accumilated and, as she watched the ashes fall, Aelswyth wondered if she would ever see the end of this task Gandalf had set her on. She wasn't sure if she wanted to see the end of it. To the East, she was sure she heard the sound of drums. It was a hectic beat, a beat entirely without rhythm, and it terrified her. War drums, she told herself as she looked to the East and saw the East staring back at her with the eyes of the Enemy. The Enemy was prepairing to fight once more and on all sides of her, the men around her seemed to be getting ready for another assault.

"You are worrying again," Boromir said, laughter in his eyes despite their desperate situation.

"I always am," she replied softly with a smile.