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The girl of mine

By Emerald

  (Author's note: this story was writen to respond to a challenge made by Orangeblossom at Bit of Earth. I hope to have achieved what she was asking for.All I can say is that it was overwhelming to write this little piece, I almost criedin the process.)

She was beautiful today. Her shining, soft hair was falling down her shoulders like a golden curly veil. And crowing her head, there was a delicate mix of hair and little elanors braided together. Her magnificent dress was a gift from old friends who never failed to be present on my life, the elf and the dwarf: Elanors beloved gracious and adorably grumpy uncles. They dressed her in light blue lace and rich elven velvet gown, ornate with the tiniest and precious blue gems from the dwarves mines. She looked like a queen. Even though her most lovely jewel was her radiant smile.

  My little one… my first one… sweet Elanor. I looked at her, saying her vows of love and fidelity to her betrothed. My heart clenched inside my chest, aching with so many memories. Another lifetime, another wedding… her mom saying the same words to me, the same adoration look, a love without measure… I can’t help but let hot tears escape from my eyes. It’s my first daughter who is getting married!

  Soon enough she will be leaving, going to live with her husband, in her own house and making a home to her own family. I hope to be able to hold her firstborn in my arms, gaze again into round, big sized eyes, filled with unspoiled, comforting tenderness. Just like hers were once. Enormous and scintillating eyes, pools of  inner wisdom, love and comfort.

  Elanor’s eyes were my anchor to this life when I thought all was lost, when half of my soul threatened to give up and die on a bare shore of loneliness. I remember holding her tight to my chest that night after being left behind by the one to whom I pledged to follow forever. Her wise mother had then cradled her inside the circle of my arms, making me hold and protect her, making me love my own seed.

  And I love her deeply, as I do love her brothers and her sisters. But above all, I love and cherish their mother, for without her understanding and faithful company I would never achieve this calm inside me. Rose was a gift from him to me after all. He knew he would not be able to stay with us for much longer. So he gave me this unique and strong flower.

  While the party goes on, and my most lovely girl dances with her husband, I can recall in perfect details her birth day. The joy that her  beautiful presence brought to my body and soul. And then the dilemma to choose a proper name for such  a sweetness! * It was him who gave your name…Did you know that? * Yes! Of course you know, I’ve told you this story a million times, as you, curious child you were, always begged for one more tale, one more time! * Please…please daddy! Tell me more of Mr. Frodo! *

  She will never guess the pain, but also peace, she gave me everytime she asked for a Mr. Frodo tale. To every laugh or suspicious gasp she gave out, my bitter feelings would be soothed away. Her innocent excitement rescued my own back.

  And to each moment I saw her in tears or sorrow I wished they were mine, not hers. Because she came to us in a glorious wave of goodness and prosperity, and she should never be touched by sadness or any sort of distress.

  Suddenly she wrap her arms around my shoulders and take me to dance with her, kissing away any traces of tears I might have on my face. Her embrace is gentle, allowing me to lead her into the slow rhythm  of a sweet melody.

  I wish he was here too. He would be so happy, making poems and songs in her homage. Taking her from me to dance with the prettiest lady in town. Filling poor Fastred’s ears with all recommendations, warnings and threats he would think of! No one could hurt his Elanor baby!

  I laugh out loud at the thought, making her smile and arch an eyebrow in silent question. I shake my head, indicating that it was just a silly thought of an old hobbit. I kiss her forehead with endless love and gratitude. Then I see tears menacing to disturb the perfection of her happy face.

  I look around and catch the sight of Meriadoc and Peregrin deeply engaged in telling and performing a hero tale to a very young crowd. I point them to her and she burst in blessed laughter. Oh yes, that was one of her favorite tales too!

  I sigh.

  The baby who once was my anchor is now setting her own sails. Another love I won’t be allowed to have close by. But it will not be lost, just a bit far. A day or two on the road, that far.

I kiss her once more, taking her hand and joining her with her anxious and loving husband.


The End

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