Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's work.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Part Two
Interlude Second
How do you move on? How do you continue each day knowing that nothing will ever be the same...and yet that you must try to continue as if it were. That you must do this in order to survive. I didn't know if I possessed the strength for that.
I stood at the summit of one of our farm's many fields. The wind was sharp and crisp as it traveled through the tall grass and whispered through the trees. Spring had come again, bringing life back to a place where there seemed to be no life left.
Only death.
I turned towards the horizon, looking out over the tree-tops. I heard a whinny and I turned again. I saw Talorta hobbling up to me, his shoulders swaying awkwardly to get the weight off of his left foreleg. I called him, cooing to him softly as he stopped beside me.
I rubbed his neck, running my hand over his scars. They had lessened now, only faint blemishes upon his skin. But they were still there, and they would always be a reminder of the past. I ran my hand again down his neck, felt the ridges of the scars.
I looked into his eyes and I saw blind faith and trust.
Was this how one healed? By letting the pain glide away? Then maybe it was better to forget. Maybe it was better to move on.
Forgetting, sometimes, is the only thing that makes the pain go away.
And thus begins Part Two.
TO BE CONTINUED...