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The Far Corner of the Garden
“…as a memorial to those who had fallen. I always liked that idea…” Faramir murmured drowsily. Soon Eowyn heard his soft whuffling snores and shifted herself slightly, easing her arm from under his bulky shoulder. She always took a bit longer to fall asleep, so she used that time to plan, to dream.
The kitchen garden had gone in first, of course. Peppers and onions, some of those strange fruits Mag called love apples for summer; beans and cabbages, carrots and kale for the hearty, warming stews of winter. Then the healing garden: mint and fennel, lavender, chamomile and calendula. The orchards were well under way now; some of the community’s small children had been engaged to shoo the deer away from the tender young branches. All the essentials seemed to be under control, or as much control as such things could be; now she had some time to devote to the less-essential items.
There was a spot in the far corner, cobbled with large heavy boulders, unsuited for any more practical purpose. Scarlet anemones should do well there, and simbelmyne: those delicate white blossoms need not only cover the dead. There would be room for a wooden bench, and a settle to rest weary feet. It was a sunny spot; perhaps some almond trees, too – she remembered Théodred speaking wistfully of an almond grove. She smiled at the memory as she drifted peacefully towards sleep
A gift for Branwyn. Just because.
2007 MEFA Award Winner: Second Place in Genres: Drama: Ithilien
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