Title: A Decision Long Made

Author: Eärillë

Rating: PG

Warnings: (implied) Character Death, (mild) Mature Theme, First Draft

Summary:
It was a decision long made, a choice that had been chosen. It was another matter if the said decision could be carried out to its completion, especially when the life of the chooser was suddenly, tangibly, at stake. – What was Míriel Serindë thinking?

Genres: Character Study, Family, Ficlet, Tragedy

Place and Timeline: Tunar, Post-GreatJourney

Characters: Míriel Serindë

Words (in MS Word): 285

Point of View: Third Person Limited, Past Tense

Challenge: Day 4: Mithrim:
"There would be no one to frighten you if you refused to be afraid."–Ghandi. Write a story or poem or create artwork where the character conquers his or her fears.

Author’s Notes:
The content of this ficlet might not be what you have expected. It came to me suddenly, and I did not expect it myself. I am not satisfied with how this ficlet came out. (Actually, I hoped to create just a drabble at first.) But then, it is this or nothing; and since I also hope to answer every challenge in this year’s B2MeM, I have to content myself with this. I hope you will like it – perhaps more than I do.
Sincerely,
Rey

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Her belly became rounder each day, each week. People congratulated her heartily, complimenting her increasing beauty as an effect of the pregnancy.

But the growing fetus took much from her, leeching her life force slowly but surely. She could not fault him, though, She had called it upon herself, wanting to please her spouse, making him proud of her child, the fruit of their union. Her body simply complied.

Because otherwise Finwë’s attention was as fleeting and changing like a bee hunting for honey, with all the discoveries and explorations that enticed him so much, even here in the land of the Powers. She could not bear it.

But she wondered if this was only worse. It seemed so much an effort now; too much. She wanted it to stop. – She was afraid, afraid for her life and her child’s. Death was looming on the horizon, it seemed, each day. Would she live to birth him – her child? Would she live to care for him? Would she just stop now, fleeing, perhaps together with her child?

Her spouse passed by across the sitting-room of their family’s wing, perhaps on the way to oversee the last building being constructed. She quickly busied herself knitting again, completing the blanket that would be her child’s birthing cloth. But she did not miss the flash of smile Finwë gave her, nor the desirous gaze in his eyes, reserved just for her – and the things of his making.

It had been her undoing, back then in the Great Journey. And it was, now. She had to survive, somehow, just to see him thus for the last time; for her, for her child. For the last time, then she could rest…