![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
mini-ficlet
This is general weirdness but I promise, it made sense to me when I wrote it, I'd be interested if it does to anyone else. *g* I also promise that, amid the strangeness, this is Aragorn/Boromir.
Title: Trick of Starlight, Blush of Shadow
Author: Archet
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir...I promise.
Rating: General
Summary: Sometimes impressions are left behind, echoes of memory.
Feedback: welcomed and appreciated
~~~
He looks but does not see what he wishes for; instead he sees a trick of starlight, a blush of shadow. Yet, as I am of starlight and shadow, perhaps he does see. It is not for me to say, but only to linger in this place between the rise and fall of a dreaming man’s breath, to linger in the middle distance of day and night where he wakes and stares with wide eyes. His longing calls the name, and dutifully I seek him out for the one that was would do as much, would do much more, but the one that was has been lifted up, beyond this place.
I am not shade; I am the echo of memory, the echo of the power and glory, the goodness and the sorrow that once walked here. I am less than shade, and though he and another like him calls out the same name, looks with the same wide, searching eyes into the center of my shadow, I will not answer. I cannot. I possess no answers.
I am nothingness, I feel nothing, neither the push nor pull of their waking world, I am only the merest trace of the one that was. As a footfall leaves an impression in the grass, as am I, an impression only, a trick of starlight, a blush of shadow. I do not live, I do not exist, I linger and have no other purpose.
They call out for Boromir and I do not answer for I am not he, I am the nothingness that echoes with his memory that they sometimes, on starlit nights, can almost hear, can almost see.
Title: Trick of Starlight, Blush of Shadow
Author: Archet
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir...I promise.
Rating: General
Summary: Sometimes impressions are left behind, echoes of memory.
Feedback: welcomed and appreciated
~~~
He looks but does not see what he wishes for; instead he sees a trick of starlight, a blush of shadow. Yet, as I am of starlight and shadow, perhaps he does see. It is not for me to say, but only to linger in this place between the rise and fall of a dreaming man’s breath, to linger in the middle distance of day and night where he wakes and stares with wide eyes. His longing calls the name, and dutifully I seek him out for the one that was would do as much, would do much more, but the one that was has been lifted up, beyond this place.
I am not shade; I am the echo of memory, the echo of the power and glory, the goodness and the sorrow that once walked here. I am less than shade, and though he and another like him calls out the same name, looks with the same wide, searching eyes into the center of my shadow, I will not answer. I cannot. I possess no answers.
I am nothingness, I feel nothing, neither the push nor pull of their waking world, I am only the merest trace of the one that was. As a footfall leaves an impression in the grass, as am I, an impression only, a trick of starlight, a blush of shadow. I do not live, I do not exist, I linger and have no other purpose.
They call out for Boromir and I do not answer for I am not he, I am the nothingness that echoes with his memory that they sometimes, on starlit nights, can almost hear, can almost see.
no subject
That is just so incredibly eerily beautiful.
And you must have been reading my mind, because yesterday in the car my husband and I had a very serious conversation about where you go after you die, and we all agreed that the essence of a person will be around somewhere, on some plane of existence.
thank you for this wonderful ficlet.
no subject
The true essence of Boromir is in the afterlife waiting for Aragorn, ;)