Elladan and Elrohir, Lords of Imladris (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} lordsofimladris) wrote,@ 2008-01-07 00:12:00 |
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Many pages in a journal..
On the first page, there are several sketches of Farandren, dotted here and there with tears. It's obvious Elrohir was the one who drew them, and his hand seems rather steady despite the obvious emotional state.
Page two holds a copy of the baby announcement, folded in so as not to lose it. Underneath the announcement is a small bit of red colored hair, with no accounting of how it got there.
Page three, the one after the announcement, holds a bit of writing.
We are uncles! Uncle is an odd word. Babies are also odd, smelly creatures, that I at least am glad I never have to deal with worrying about. Arwen is still about as big as a house, and she looks about as exhausted and weathered as the older buildings of Minas Tirith. Though of course everyone she lets see her and her precious little bundle of joy would decide to say something else. 'Oh you are glowing, Arwen!' or 'You do not seem nearly as tired as one who just gave birth, Arwen!'. I wish I could have someone about to say such amusingly flattering things to me.
But she is well, baby is well, and we have another little runt around to teach in the ways of sneaking and pranking, so all is well.
Estel especially seems intent on being high on pipeweed in celebration for the next full month.
Page four holds an account of a dream...
It was extremely cold, colder than we had ever experienced in our lives, and we were both shivering, though we were wearing extremely warm clothing. All about us there was falling snow, and yet more snow on upon the ground, snow upon the mountains, snow upon a glassy lake. There are companions around us, though we never see their faces.. a flash of brown hair, red, and golden. There is a stone, though all about it blackness, and then there is a fire, a great fire that engulfs all, and we both awake at the same time.
We neither of us know what the dream means, though we find it odd that we, each of us, see our side of it the same. If it keeps up, I suppose one or the other of us will have to go to Mithrandir or Daernaneth, or some other equally wise and cryptic person...
On the first page, there are several sketches of Farandren, dotted here and there with tears. It's obvious Elrohir was the one who drew them, and his hand seems rather steady despite the obvious emotional state.
Page two holds a copy of the baby announcement, folded in so as not to lose it. Underneath the announcement is a small bit of red colored hair, with no accounting of how it got there.
Page three, the one after the announcement, holds a bit of writing.
We are uncles! Uncle is an odd word. Babies are also odd, smelly creatures, that I at least am glad I never have to deal with worrying about. Arwen is still about as big as a house, and she looks about as exhausted and weathered as the older buildings of Minas Tirith. Though of course everyone she lets see her and her precious little bundle of joy would decide to say something else. 'Oh you are glowing, Arwen!' or 'You do not seem nearly as tired as one who just gave birth, Arwen!'. I wish I could have someone about to say such amusingly flattering things to me.
But she is well, baby is well, and we have another little runt around to teach in the ways of sneaking and pranking, so all is well.
Estel especially seems intent on being high on pipeweed in celebration for the next full month.
Page four holds an account of a dream...
It was extremely cold, colder than we had ever experienced in our lives, and we were both shivering, though we were wearing extremely warm clothing. All about us there was falling snow, and yet more snow on upon the ground, snow upon the mountains, snow upon a glassy lake. There are companions around us, though we never see their faces.. a flash of brown hair, red, and golden. There is a stone, though all about it blackness, and then there is a fire, a great fire that engulfs all, and we both awake at the same time.
We neither of us know what the dream means, though we find it odd that we, each of us, see our side of it the same. If it keeps up, I suppose one or the other of us will have to go to Mithrandir or Daernaneth, or some other equally wise and cryptic person...
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