Disclaimer: The characters, settings and circumstances of The Lord of the Rings belong in full to J.R.R. Tolkien. The story was partially inspired by "Secret Smile", a song by the group Phish. The lyrics in question can be found below, as a precursor to the story itself. Reviews are most welcome.
The wind dies down, the setting sun
Crochets the clouds with yarn so fine
And fills the oceans with red wine
The trees, the sky, the forest fair
Bring a flavor to the air
I raise my glass, and in a while
You answer with a secret smile.
-Phish
She had always loved the sea. For twenty-six years, Finduilas stood on the shores near Dol Amroth, staring out over the Bay of Belfalas. As of tomorrow, she would be parted from it. She journeyed to Minas Tirith in the morning, to become the bride of Denethor. She had left her own farewell celebration to come and see the sea for the last time.
The thought of leaving her family did not trouble her nearly as much as leaving the sea. The sea was a mother, a friend, a sanctuary. And Minas Tirith was so far away. She did love Denethor, and by loving him had sworn her life to stay by the Steward's side. She did not cherish the thought of living in the White City, but recognized her duty.
A loving breeze blew in from the sea, capturing her golden hair and dancing with it. She smiled at the breeze, watching the sun sink lower over her sanctuary. Bending, she removed her shoes and edged into the red wine that had become the ocean, the tide washing over her feet in its age-old dance.
It was there Imrahil found his beloved older sister, standing in a sea she'd long been attached to. "Finduilas!" he called to her, seeing her turn to him with a sad smile. "Why do you shy away from your own celebration, dear sister?" He reached her then, drawing a mantle around her as her gaze shifted back to the calm sea.
"Oh, Imrahil," she said with a sigh, looking from the reddened ocean and sky in the west to the violet sky in the east, already dotted with tiny diamond-like stars. "I will miss this so."
"Sunsets? Surely they have such beauties in Minas Tirith," Imrahil teased.
"I'm sure they do," she replied with a laugh, "but I doubt they have a sea for the setting sun to turn into a delicious red wine."
"This I know they do not," he admitted, "but I'm sure the sunset is just as lovely."
"I hope so," Finduilas whispered, "for I shall find out soon enough." She fingered the small emerald leaf pendent around her neck, a gift from Denethor.
Imrahil took note of her action. "What troubles you, sister, besides the sunset?"
"I love Denethor," she replied, "but I do not wish to be caged in the White City, no matter how beautiful a cage it is. I would rather be here, where there is nothing to trap the sea and nothing to trap me either."
Imrahil frowned. "Finduilas, you will always have a place here, to come if need be. This is not the end."
"No," she said softly. "I fear the end."
"Fear the end?"
"Yes," she reiterated, glancing towards the east, "the end."
"Finduilas, nothing--"
She turned away from the sea and faced him, her placid gray eyes burning with a fear he had never noticed in them before. "You say as Denethor would, and has. But that does not quell my fears." She faced the sea again. "I am not sure anything could."
"Then know this, beloved sister," Imrahil whispered. "If the fear in your heart cannot lessen, then I will lessen the danger." He tried to smile at her then, but Finduilas did not see. "We should return. I am sure there are others who will miss your presence as much as I."
Gently, he led her back to her own farewell celebration, Finduilas looking resignedly forward rather than back.
fin
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