tolkienshortfanworks | A Ranger's Love

Here I am, again with a ficlet from my backlist. I can promise you something new as well, either today or tomorrow. Got inspired for something short again!

Summary: A ranger’s first love is always for the land.
Beta: Lee-Anne
Genre: gen
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Arda and her Gods are Tolkien’s creation, but the world belongs to everyone and is for everyone to enjoy.
Author’s Note: This ficlet started out as Aragorn’s thoughts while he is wandering the Wilds. In the end, it turned out to be a more general ode-to-the-world, so you can make up your own narrator, it does not necessarily have to be Aragorn. Written for the Middle Earth Express on Aragorn Angst, for the prompt #6: outdoors.

He has seen winter.

Snowdrifts up to his thighs. The game scarce. Frozen limbs. Falling snow wetting his hair. His breath misting. The old dying. The young looking haggard. Endless nights. Filled with tales by the fireside. Following the frost patterns on the window of the Prancing Pony with his index finger. The stillness of a snow-covered forest. Utter peace. He has seen winter.

He has seen autumn.

Manwë’s mood sending harsh winds. Their bite numbing his skin. The women labouring to harvest food for the long winter. The world dying down, falling into a deep sleep. Coming to a standstill. Naked tree-limbs. Leaves cascading down to earth with each of Manwë’s breaths, not one the colour of its neighbour. Pumpkins, large and plump. A girl’s arms buried in the fruit’s flesh up to her elbows. He has seen autumn.

He has seen summer.

The blistering hot of August. Sweat on his brow. His mouth parched. His tan darkening. Freckles appearing on his young companion’s nose. The slightest move an effort in the heat. Yavanna pouring her creation all over them. Colour and smell everywhere. Fruit ripening. Raspberry tart in a nameless inn. The maidens laughing and lifting their skirts. Flashes of their bare legs while they splash in the merry waters of a small river. He has seen summer.

He has seen spring.

The long wait. Cold rain that turns to snow and then hail. Always wet, cold and miserable. Everybody has a short temper. Provisions low, the last money spent. Middle Earth takes a deep breath and then wakes suddenly. Unexpectedly. Green appearing. The first flower so yellow it’s blinding him. The bluest sky. Anor’s rays warming his skin, his face turned upwards. Laughs come easily now. He has seen spring.

He has seen Arda.

Like a woman she is. Harsh one minute, and forgiving the next. With one hand slapping him for daring to touch. With the other gently caressing the smarting cheek. Her embrace is as dangerous as it is comforting. Fickle she is, a woman with a temper. Always a surprise. Always a wonder. Always a song. He has seen Arda.

He has fallen in love. And he has been embraced.

- The End