Jewels

Duty kept the men in the City, inspecting posts and guardsmen atop the wall of the First Circle and exchanging a word or two with the commanders and the occasional soldier.

Then Faramir tapped the king’s shoulder. “Look,” he said, pointing to the green fields of the Pelennor below.

Two horses, grey and black, blazed like smoke across the field, now lush with a year’s growth since the war’s end. Two heads bent over the manes before them, braids, golden and raven, streaming like banners behind them. Skirts flew around bare feet, thighs gripped the sleek strong flanks of their mounts.

The men imagined more than heard the whoops of bliss as their wives raised their rosy faces into the wind.

Aragorn turned, smiling, to his Steward. “My friend, we are the two luckiest men in Gondor.”

From the gleam in Faramir’s eye, he too was anticipating the coming night.