I've wanted to write a sad little funny scene like this one for a while.

Disclaimer: I am not JRR Tolkein. The End.


Daydreams

Eowyn finished the last stitch on her embroidery. She set it down on the small table in front of her, and leaned her head back, lost in a daydream.

Aragorn was standing right there, dripping wet and as handsome as ever. He had just defeated Sauron in a climactic battle, plunging his sword into the center of the flaming eye, as a daring conclusion. He had passed out afterward, and was only awoken by rain falling against his face. He had gone and mounted his horse, riding the beast nearly to foundering to get to her. He held her hand, and as he reached forward to kiss her-

Someone collapsed in a chair loudly across the table from her. She sat up quickly, seizing her needle in what she hoped was a menacing manner. Drat, she thought. It was Aragorn.

"Daydreaming?" He asked her, grinning.

"Yes," she replied awkwardly, fighting the urge to do something rash. She finally settled on adding a border to her embroidery.

"You really hate that, don't you?" Aragorn commented, gesturing to her embroidery.

"Well," she stammered, the rational part of her mind losing the battle quickly. "I prefer thinking about you."

Aragorn leaned forward. Oh my God, Eowyn thought, he's going to kiss me.

Aragorn reached toward Eowyn as her mind blabbered. Gently, he pried the embroidery from her hands. He examined it briefly, and grimaced at the rough, choppy stitches and poor design. Finally, he spoke. "You need a hobby, and embroidery obviously isn't it."