I don't own anything except Linwe. Enjoy!
-The Author
In Figwit's dream, someone sang a low, sweet song. There was water falling into a low, deep pool, and he watched a flower as it blossomed. He lifted his head to the flower, intent on sniffing its scent; he hadn't done so in so long. He opened his nostrils, ready and willing to take in the sweet perfume…
"Figwit."
That was Linwe's voice; why was she bothering him?
"Figwit, wake up."
Figwit popped open one eye. The other was still hidden in his pillow. It was so dark. He tried to remember where he had been in his dream. Linwe, he noticed blindly, had put a chain of flowers in her black hair, lifting it up from her moonish face. They smelled pleasant.
"There's a crisis," Linwe said.
Figwit rolled onto his back. Both his eyes were open now.
"The Gondorian Steward, Faramir, he's left the Houses of Healing."
Figwit looked at her.
"He'll forget about her, I just know he will!"
Linwe leapt up. Figwit rolled over to look at her. She took a few steps forward, head bent in thinking. Her scarlet robe trailed behind her. In the moonlight it looked almost black. She tapped her lip, turned, and walked towards Figwit again, tapped her lip again, and then knelt before his bed.
"What does a woman do to get a man to notice her?"
Figwit grinned, amused.
"You're no help," she said. She leapt up and walked towards his door; she turned back around. "Figwit," she said, "Please, tell me, what are we going to do?"
"Nothing," said Figwit.
"Nothing?" Linwe looked startled. "Nothing? But then he'll forget about her! Oh," she smiled, "I see. This is a test. If he really loves her – and he does, Figwit, he really does, I just know it – if he does he'll send for her. Or no, even better, go to her. I like it." She set her smile on him. "Figwit, you're brilliant."
She turned in a wave of hair and scarlet cloth, and walked to the door. She turned, said, "As you were," and left.
Figwit rolled onto his back and sighed. He closed his eyes, and tried to imagine himself in the Undying Lands again.