Waiting

Enjoying the warm sun of the late afternoon, Gilraen closed her eyes. The drowse of the bees made her sleepy.

For twenty-three years she had not laid eyes on her son, but yesterday the word had come that he was returning at last. Just a little longer, she mused.

She felt a shadow cross before her. She opened her eyes and with a leap of her heart saw her dead husband standing before her.

“Estel!” She threw herself into his arms, weeping. “You are so like him, my son, so like him.”

Holding her close, Aragorn understood what she meant.