Authors' Notes: Yes, I seem to have taken to writing in unknown POV's, like
my last fic, On Lover Boundries (this is the second part to that particular
fic). I don't get too many reviews on this stuff, but the stuff I -do- get
are special, re-kindling my heart to write. Thank you all.
___________
About mid-afternoon, it was, as I recall. The sun seemed seven heavens away, and yet still close enough to warm even the smallest blade of grass, coaxing them to enjoy the day. Clouds shifted overhead, their pearly white underbellies gazing down upon Middle-Earth in all its' life. I sigh, and turn my gaze away from this serene spectacle, now watching a young hobbit from afar. I had to watch this one for awhile to realise whom it was. One of the young hobbit's I had encountered through the woods. Yes, that was it. This was the older one, with the yellow vest, and a glint in his eye. He did not move strangely, just sat there, alone, staring at the ground. Then I understood. His young lover was not here, and it must be driving him into depression. I knew it was hard to say goodbye, after all.
When I had gone home to my own lover, those many nights ago, I had not forgotten them, their faces, and tears had been blazed into my mind. Every time I was held by my own lover, I could almost feel their pain burning me up, taking me close to the pain they both must feel. And yet, I could not paint faces upon the ones I had met. I had not forgotten them, not truly, just who they were. If that makes any sense. I slowly rose to my feet, hoping to get closer to this depressed being, without being noticed. This time he did not have his lover to distract him from my continuous following.
As I was mere twenty metres off, he had still not noticed me. I blinked, for I had not realised that I had come so close... and he had not noticed. My eyesight is keen, and I can see the hobbit' face clearly. Red-rimmed were his eyes, from crying, I presume. He was not crying now, most likely because his eyes would not let him. Pale and sickly was his parlour, as if he was getting over being sick for a few weeks. I felt my heart once again weaken. Why was I forced to bear the weight of the cares of young lovers? Too many I had witnessed as it is. Far too many had wilted and died before my eyes, gone somewhere where they believed they could not be hurt anymore. I would not let it happen again.
I crouched in the cover of bush shadows, just watching the sad young hobbit. For some reason, this hobbit and his soul mate seemed so different from the others. So. Special and I knew not why. Was it because. no, that could not be it. They just seemed to capture my heart with all their tender hearted innocence. Like the rest. Just like them. Then why? I will not muse on this, for I need to keep my mind from question the way life weaves. It is a dangerous thing. As I continued to watch, he brought his knees to his chest, and rested his elbows on knees, the hands of which supported his face. He seemed to be crying again, though no noise reached my ears.
Maybe that is why I find him out here, away from his kind. Perhaps he is seen to be strong through this, and does not wish to be seen crying in front of them. Or, perhaps, his kindred had not known of this affair between him and the other hobbit. Perhaps. I would help this one, and find the other. I would have to bring them together, for I could already feel myself dying. Though my own pain could be nothing compared to theirs. For now, I will plan, and then take action.
I wonder, again, if I will feel guilty at all, going home to my own lover, going home to him, and having an embrace only meant for me. Only me. One that will last for all eternity, never to be separated. I wonder if there tears will seep into my heart, flood me out into my own tears, weeping for them. I wonder if I would break, break for them, break for their loss. I wonder.
Because I knew it was hard to say goodbye.
Then, I got up, silently, and left, heading back home. He would not know that I have been here, he is in his own world, his own world where he and his lover still are together, not to be pushed apart again, for their lives.
I knew it was hard to say a simple goodbye. So hard.
About mid-afternoon, it was, as I recall. The sun seemed seven heavens away, and yet still close enough to warm even the smallest blade of grass, coaxing them to enjoy the day. Clouds shifted overhead, their pearly white underbellies gazing down upon Middle-Earth in all its' life. I sigh, and turn my gaze away from this serene spectacle, now watching a young hobbit from afar. I had to watch this one for awhile to realise whom it was. One of the young hobbit's I had encountered through the woods. Yes, that was it. This was the older one, with the yellow vest, and a glint in his eye. He did not move strangely, just sat there, alone, staring at the ground. Then I understood. His young lover was not here, and it must be driving him into depression. I knew it was hard to say goodbye, after all.
When I had gone home to my own lover, those many nights ago, I had not forgotten them, their faces, and tears had been blazed into my mind. Every time I was held by my own lover, I could almost feel their pain burning me up, taking me close to the pain they both must feel. And yet, I could not paint faces upon the ones I had met. I had not forgotten them, not truly, just who they were. If that makes any sense. I slowly rose to my feet, hoping to get closer to this depressed being, without being noticed. This time he did not have his lover to distract him from my continuous following.
As I was mere twenty metres off, he had still not noticed me. I blinked, for I had not realised that I had come so close... and he had not noticed. My eyesight is keen, and I can see the hobbit' face clearly. Red-rimmed were his eyes, from crying, I presume. He was not crying now, most likely because his eyes would not let him. Pale and sickly was his parlour, as if he was getting over being sick for a few weeks. I felt my heart once again weaken. Why was I forced to bear the weight of the cares of young lovers? Too many I had witnessed as it is. Far too many had wilted and died before my eyes, gone somewhere where they believed they could not be hurt anymore. I would not let it happen again.
I crouched in the cover of bush shadows, just watching the sad young hobbit. For some reason, this hobbit and his soul mate seemed so different from the others. So. Special and I knew not why. Was it because. no, that could not be it. They just seemed to capture my heart with all their tender hearted innocence. Like the rest. Just like them. Then why? I will not muse on this, for I need to keep my mind from question the way life weaves. It is a dangerous thing. As I continued to watch, he brought his knees to his chest, and rested his elbows on knees, the hands of which supported his face. He seemed to be crying again, though no noise reached my ears.
Maybe that is why I find him out here, away from his kind. Perhaps he is seen to be strong through this, and does not wish to be seen crying in front of them. Or, perhaps, his kindred had not known of this affair between him and the other hobbit. Perhaps. I would help this one, and find the other. I would have to bring them together, for I could already feel myself dying. Though my own pain could be nothing compared to theirs. For now, I will plan, and then take action.
I wonder, again, if I will feel guilty at all, going home to my own lover, going home to him, and having an embrace only meant for me. Only me. One that will last for all eternity, never to be separated. I wonder if there tears will seep into my heart, flood me out into my own tears, weeping for them. I wonder if I would break, break for them, break for their loss. I wonder.
Because I knew it was hard to say goodbye.
Then, I got up, silently, and left, heading back home. He would not know that I have been here, he is in his own world, his own world where he and his lover still are together, not to be pushed apart again, for their lives.
I knew it was hard to say a simple goodbye. So hard.