Note: Just a Drabble. These are the private thoughts of Grima Wormtongue to Eowyn. A peek in his wicked mind..with the belief that there is some semblance of love in his soul, obsessive as it may be. x.x;;

For Danahan, who was there when I wrote it.

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Words From the Weed to the Rose

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For you who are fairest then all who are fair - I write these words to thee. You, who are the first beam of morning light crawling across the pale face of freshly fallen snow. You, who look as though you were born of the cold moon and laid upon the face of the clouds to be lowered to the earth with the misting dew. You, who can slay me, a man of flesh and bone, with a fleeting glance.

Unlike we are in every way, yet I am drawn unto you like a moth to a bright and licking flame. And, while in me you see only lust and treachery; in you, I see all that is fair and good.

Where I am dark, you are light. While I stand alone in the shadows, wishing for you, wanting of you; you stand among honor and love. You are immense, while I am small and in the end, when all who remain forget the feel of my name on their tongue, they will always remember you; the White Lady of Rohan.

When all is dark and no soul lingers in the hall, I find myself alone and unafraid of your judgmental eyes. I speak aloud to the ghost of your lingering memory, revealing within me the longing to be a man better then myself.

I imagine myself: a man with honor, very much like your own. I imagine myself; a man with a will that is not tainted by the suffocating hands of control and personal gain. I imagine myself; a man standing regal and proud, worthy of a woman like you. I see the man I could be if only you, Fairest of all Who are Fair, could spare a petal from your ever unfolding bloom for a thorn such as I.

But then the sun rises, and with it's first rays I become only what I have known, and what I always have been. I see myself; the man who lingers always in your shadow, wanting to touch you but never knowing how. I see myself; the man who despairs with in for the heart that will remain unsated. I see myself every growing bitter and colder under the ice of your cold gray gaze. I see myself as the dark weed in your pale garden, never able to reach as high as the clouds you float up on.

Unrequited love - unrequited love makes the darkness deeper. It makes the cold grayer, and in the end, I fear it will be only me that is lost.