joannamjohnson
Author Joanna M. Johnson
My art: @joannamarieart
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me, who's been daydreaming about my wips: wow I'm being so productive today :)))
my word doc:
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It was only that the windy days brought with them agitation. They did lately, anyway. She was sure she hadn't always felt this turbulence within her belly. Once, in a different lifetime, she'd been known for having nerves of steel. Now, she was as likely to be overtaken with a sudden surge of alarm from nowhere. A sense that she was standing alone on the surface of life and it felt as fragile as glass.
She would turn thirty-eight at her next birthday. Practically forty! A greater age than either her father or mother ever reached. Perhaps that was why she had been overcome lately with memories from her childhood. It was as if sufficient time had passed that she could turn around and see it with clarity across the vast ocean of time. She could barely remember crossing that ocean.
It was ridiculous to feel lonely. She had lived in this house for fourteen years. She was surrounded by more family than she'd ever had - God knew, she couldn't escape the children if she tried. And yet, there were times when she felt terror at her own desolation, the gnawing sensation of having lost something she could not name and therefore could not hope to find.
Kate Morton, Homecoming
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I often think I could be such a good writer if I were better at writing
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Reblog to give the person you reblogged from the ability to finish their WIPs
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Aragorn was just a little lost cat who followed them home 😭😂😂😂
oh, Aragorn? he's just some guy that followed us around
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Cap & Vega 😆
unreliable
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Chapter 4 - A Mother’s Heart
(Also available on AO3)
“A baby?” Theo paused, “and he’s leaving?”
Bronwyn nodded, feeling chastised. She wanted to push back against the slight toward Arondir – Theo had not even looked in his direction when referencing him. She settled on extending grace.
“Not for a while yet, though.”
“And you’ll go with him?”
“I… am not sure.” This was not entirely true. She had all but decided to make the journey along with him, and had intended to ask Theo if he would keep the farm while they were gone. It might be too much though. He was not a man, yet. She’d thought the asking would make him feel good, but now she wasn’t sure.
“A baby, now?” He asked again, exasperated.
“We didn’t plan for it-” Bronwyn tried, but Theo huffed and pushed his chair back to stand. He stalked out of the house without another word.
Arondir moved as though to follow him, but Bronwyn placed a hand on his arm and he stopped to look down. She shook her head gently.
“Give him some time.” She said. She hoped time alone would be enough.
It was not until the sun sank behind the horizon that the first pangs of fear began to squeeze her heart. Her hands slowed their stitching, then she stopped sewing altogether, watching the light slowly fade from the window. Would he return tonight? She didn’t know if she’d rather he stayed out than travel through the dark to the safety of home. He’d be somewhere safe, wouldn’t he? Staying with his friend in the village, perhaps.
Flashes of fire, fear, desperation surrounded her. It was everywhere and she couldn’t escape. Orcs were coming, and she held her breath, willed herself not to move. She was suddenly choking on smoke and stood, gasping for breath.
“Bron?” Arondir stood as well, rushing to her side. “Are you… is it…?”
She waved her hand and tried to say not to worry, it isn’t the baby, but the words wouldn’t come. She rushed to the door and opened it. The fog in her brain dissipated as she looked out over the quiet farm and further, the village, the world around them settling into a cool autumn night.
No fires lit the horizon, nor sounds of battle broke the silence. The urge to rush out and bang on the door of every home in the village was overwhelming, but instead she stood. Breathed. In…out.
Arondir came up behind her, placing his arm around her waist and standing so close she could rest on his chest. So many thoughts ran through her mind, questions, hopes, emotions she didn’t quite know how to put into words. Instead, they just stood, looking out into the peaceful night.
“He’ll be all right.” Bronwyn finally said, speaking it as a statement, but really meaning it as a question.
“Yes.” Arondir’s voice rumbled in her ear.
She nodded, finally believing it for the first time. He would be a man soon. Too soon. He’s not ready to be on his own yet! He’s learning, growing in independence. She told herself, around and around. She was not ready.
In the morning, Oyna came to see Bronwyn, bearing two baskets - one full of eggs and news of Theo. The woman was not much older than Bronwyn herself, with three sons and a daughter, the youngest just about Theo’s age. She was brown and stout, with long, long black hair that Bronwyn had seen untwisted only once. It had gleamed in the firelight, shiny as a river stone and looked soft as pup’s ear. Now, as always, it was twisted into an intricate knot and held in place with carved sticks.
“He showed up yesterday afternoon, asked to stay the night see’n as how he and Yaban were planning an early start for sparring practice.” She shrugged, handing Bronwyn the basket.
See, he was somewhere safe. She told herself, inwardly sighing of relief.
“Now, about that lavender.”
Bronwyn barely contained her involuntary reaction to even the thought of lavender. Her stomach turned and she felt her face slipping into a grimace, then quickly corrected it with a smile.
“Certainly!” She stepped away taking the few minutes of walking ahead to regain her composure. “I have far more than enough.” She waved a hand at the vast sea of lavender in the garden, trying not to stand too close.
The other woman knelt and began to cut the stalks, placing each gently into a basket. Bronwyn felt bad that she wasn’t helping, yet could not bring herself to get any closer to the plants. Oyna glanced at her for a moment, perhaps appraising her condition, but did not mention it. She spoke of the weather, predicting rain within the week, her family, her intended uses for the lavender she gathered.
Bronwyn enjoyed the conversation, Oyna was a good friend and a valuable addition to their community of survivors. She cared for Theo like her own son.
“He may stay longer.” Bronwyn blurted as the conversation lulled. “Theo.”
Oyna turned, raising her eyebrows.
“Arondir has an elf council to attend within two months and will be gone… a while. Theo was upset.”
Oyna stood, her basket full, nodding. She understood children growing into adulthood.
“And…” Bronwyn trailed off, letting her hand rest at the top of her belly, giving the other woman a knowing look. Her eyebrows raised further, then a smile lit her face. “When?” she asks.
Bronwyn felt her face pull into a soft smile.
“Spring.”
Oyna reached a hand out and squeezed Bronwyn’s wrist. “Well, we’ll take care of you through the winter. I pray it won’t be as long as last.”
Bronwyn nodded, wanting no redos of last winter. We’re already heading there. She thought, looking out over the fields to where she could just make out Theo sparring with another one of the young men.
She was indescribably proud of him, of the man he was becoming, of the great independence and strength he was developing. But in this moment, she wanted nothing more than to draw him into her arms and to hug him with a force that would tell him she loved him more than anything in the world and couldn’t bear to have anger hanging between them.
#arondir x bronwyn#aronwyn#rings of power#fanfic#lotr#lord of the rings#tolkien#cottagecore#cozy fantasy
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When a tv show portrays a ‘super weird’ character, but you identify with every single weird trait 😩😩🤣
✅ obsessed with free breadsticks at restaurants
✅ has monopoly board locations memorized in order (I don’t think I actually have them ALL memorized, but I wish I did and would be very impressed by anyone who could recite them offhand!)
✅ likes to dance but dances weird when put on the spot
✅ enjoys a girl chat rendezvous in the bathroom at events
✅ has Yahtzee (and probably other party games!) at home ready to play at any moment
#weirdos unite!#himyf#they didn't deserve alice#it's giving homeschooler tbh#and I don't mean that in a bad way#how i met your father#weird characters
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show, don't tell:
anticipation
- bouncing legs
- darting eyes
- breathing deeply
- useless / mindless tasks
- eyes on the clock
- checking and re-checking
frustration
- grumbling
- heavy footsteps
- hot flush
- narrowed eyes
- pointing fingers
- pacing / stomping
sadness
- eyes filling up with tears
- blinking quickly
- hiccuped breaths
- face turned away
- red / burning cheeks
- short sentences with gulps
happiness
- smiling / cheeks hurting
- animated
- chest hurts from laughing
- rapid movements
- eye contact
- quick speaking
boredom
- complaining
- sighing
- grumbling
- pacing
- leg bouncing
- picking at nails
fear
- quick heartbeat
- shaking / clammy hands
- pinching self
- tuck away
- closing eyes
- clenched hands
disappointment
- no eye contact
- hard swallow
- clenched hands
- tears, occasionally
- mhm-hmm
tiredness
- spacing out
- eyes closing
- nodding head absently
- long sighs
- no eye contact
- grim smile
confidence
- prolonged eye contact
- appreciates instead of apologizing
- active listening
- shoulders back
- micro reactions
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STOP
Every time you see this post on your dash, open up your WIP and write one sentence. It doesn’t matter if the sentence is good, makes sense or works perfectly with your story. You can go back to edit it later.
Congrats, you made some progress on your WIP!
Make sure to reblog to help fellow writers make progress on their wip!
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some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.
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Chapter 3 - Will You Go?
( Also available on AO3)
He didn’t like to keep secrets from Bronwyn. And he wouldn’t for much longer, he’d tell her this very evening. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself for nearly a fortnight.
The letter was still tucked in his pocket, as though secretively hidden away, but he told himself it was just for safekeeping. It burned against his leg, even now as he sparred with Hádred. His attacks and defenses were both slower than usual, and had been for days. Control your mind! He told himself, just before he was knocked to his knees with a blade at his throat.
“That’s twice today!” Hádred said, as he stuck a hand out to Arondir.
Arondir nodded and took the man’s hand, though he could not bring himself to return the smile. Being bested did not bother him, there was only on thing he could think about. Consuming him.
“Well fought.” He said with a nod, then turned and walked away from the sparring field. The others would continue their training, but he could not. He thought for a moment to turn to the cottage and take on some of the midday tasks, but just when he thought he’d decided to do so, instead he turned away from the village altogether and began to walk.
There was no path, but he knew the way. The hills were made of rocks and craggy trees. Here and there was a copse of trees, but most of the forest sat on the edges of his view, all around them. Locusts sang in the summer heat, their buzz bringing him back through every summer he’d spent in the southlands.
It had been just after summer when he and Bronwyn had first laid eyes on this little valley. And not much longer after that when they’d first discovered this little hidden gem. He stepped through a line of trees, and stopped. The sound of rushing water had been present, but didn’t fully envelop him until he could see it. A waterfall was set here on the hill, running down into a stream that whipped away, always rushing down through the trees.
A rock plateau stretched out between the trees on either side, the water cutting a groove through the center. He stepped forward and sat beside the stream, close enough that a mist from the waterfall fell on him like rain.
There had been so much laughter that first day, when they’d tried to climb up to the top of the waterfall and Bronwyn had slipped and ended up soaking wet. Then she’d splashed him for laughing at her and tried to pull him in after her. She wasn’t nearly strong enough to pull him down – blame the elf in him and the wound that she’d gotten only a month or so prior – but he’d let himself fall into the water anyway.
They both laughed, the absurdity of the moment a delightful diversion from the traumas they’d all experienced so recently and the uncertainty of the future. He wasn’t one to laugh often, but she made him want to.
He looked up now, the sunlight glinting off of the water as it flowed, highlighting all the individual droplets that broke away from the mass.
The letter.
His hand instinctively moved to rest on his hip. It was still there, he knew. He’d hoped, for just a single irrational moment, that it was not, and was just a fear he’d conjured. But no, there it was, as always. The orders he was meant to obey.
“Bad day to be an elf.”
He turned his head to find Theo stepping through the trees to stand beside him. His heart jumped to his throat, and he looked back at the rushing water. Theo could not have known how true such a statement was.
The boy flopped himself to sit just to Arondir’s right, and followed his gaze to the stream.
“Took the losses that hard?”
Arondir chuckled, but considered for a long moment whether to go along with the assumption or not. It would only require a minor hit to his self-image, and a little bit of exaggeration to sell the farce.
“Bad day to be an elf, indeed.” He raised a knee and rested his arm on it. “How do the humans fare?”
“Improved, I think.” Theo said, then he shrugged, and leaned forward to put his hand in the water. Arondir nodded his head as though pointing from Theo’s hand up to the top of the falls.
“Will winter come early this year, do you think, or shall summer hold on a bit longer?”
Theo pulled his hand from the stream and shook it.
“From... the water? You can tell that from the water?”
Arondir smiled and looked up at the top of the waterfall, the peak a blinding white in the sun. The water rushed, and rushed, never to stop.
“In Valinor, the water speaks all things. So it is said.” He looked back down to Theo and acquiesced.
“But here... no. I cannot do so. At least, not always.”
He stood then, and held out a hand to help Theo back to his feet as well. The fatigue hit him suddenly – he hadn’t realized just how tired and sore he was. Nor how late it had gotten.
“Come, your mother will be looking for us.”
Theo left Arondir when they’d nearly reached the village, seeking out a friend before the evening meal. There was still an hour or so before supper, so he just continued alone to the cottage.
Bronwyn was just heading inside when he arrived, a pile of freshly cut herbs in her apron. Wisps of hair blew around her face as she lit up into a smile. He accompanied her into the house, and sat to separate the herb cuts when she dumped them onto the table.
“How was sparring?” She asked, in a tone that made him think she already knew the answer. He smiled.
“Some might think I’m losing my touch.”
“ You ?” Bronwyn said, far too gleefully.
“Mmm.” He responded, choosing to focus on his hands separating the herbs, one at a time. They were both silent for a few minutes, then Bronwyn spoke.
“There is something that bothers you.”
He looked up, deep into her concerned eyes. He sighed.
“Yes. Not...” he chuckled, “not the sparring.”
“Well, then,” Bronwyn moved over to the table and began gathering a few leaves from each pile, “tell me.”
He didn’t speak for another minute, trying to decide on how to start, how to say... anything. Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter. He held it out and she took it.
She opened it and stared for a few seconds, then looked up at him.
“It’s in Elvish.”
He nodded, then realized what a fool he’d been, yet again.
“You can’t read it?” He spoke it as a question, but did not need to. Bronwyn snorted a laugh.
“Of course not. Not much need for Elvish in these parts.”
She set the letter on the table and moved back to the pot simmering above the fire.
“So,” she said, nodding her head toward the letter before leaning to stir the stew. “What does it say?”
He took a breath. He’d have to say it after all.
“It’s.... a request. A demand, really. To go to Lindon and provide my account of the dark powers arising in the south. Perhaps to stay, for some time. Elven... time.”
She’d stopped stirring the pot and just sat against her heels, staring deeply into the floorboards. They both understood the value of silence, and he simply waited, letting her mull over the predicament. At long last, she looked up, her eyes boring deep into his soul.
“And you?” She said, her voice calm and measured. “Will you go?”
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i’ve put together fun fic prompt generator with thousands of possible combinations! each prompt combines different settings, genres, tropes, and a prompt idea to get you started in a direction. you can use one or more of the ideas or the entire combination if it works out, or just refresh until you’re inspired.
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Pro Tip: The Way You End a Sentence Matters
Here is a quick and dirty writing tip that will strengthen your writing.
In English, the word at the end of a sentence carries more weight or emphasis than the rest of the sentence. You can use that to your advantage in modifying tone.
Consider:
In the end, what you said didn't matter.
It didn't matter what you said in the end.
In the end, it didn't matter what you said.
Do you pick up the subtle differences in meaning between these three sentences?
The first one feels a little angry, doesn't it? And the third one feels a little softer? There's a gulf of meaning between "what you said didn't matter" (it's not important!) and "it didn't matter what you said" (the end result would've never changed).
Let's try it again:
When her mother died, she couldn't even cry.
She couldn't even cry when her mother died.
That first example seems to kind of side with her, right? Whereas the second example seems to hold a little bit of judgment or accusation? The first phrase kind of seems to suggest that she was so sad she couldn't cry, whereas the second kind of seems to suggest that she's not sad and that's the problem.
The effect is super subtle and very hard to put into words, but you'll feel it when you're reading something. Changing up the order of your sentences to shift the focus can have a huge effect on tone even when the exact same words are used.
In linguistics, this is referred to as "end focus," and it's a nightmare for ESL students because it's so subtle and hard to explain. But a lot goes into it, and it's a tool worth keeping in your pocket if you're a creative writer or someone otherwise trying to create a specific effect with your words :)
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Chapter 2 - With Child
Also on AO3
She had waited until after missing a moon cycle before fully putting stock into the idea of pregnancy. After that, it was a few more days before she had the opportunity to speak of it to Arondir (and guessed she may have needed to build up the courage either way). He’d left on a hunt a couple days ago with several men, and Theo, and she’d somehow become one of the most respected voices in their little village, after their battle against orcs and her seemingly miraculous recovery from a wound that should have killed her. Involuntarily, she placed a hand to her chest, lightly tracing the scar she knew lived beneath her clothes.
It rarely hurt these days, but the memories remained. The first months had been so hard, just surviving through the pain that seemed to never get better. It had slowed, and all but ceased eventually though. It left a daily reminder that – as she’d noted some time ago to Arondir – was nothing short of hideous. Not that anyone would see it save for him and herself, but he was the one she most cared about – everyone else’s opinions be damned.
“What do you love about me?” She’d asked Arondir some months ago, laying beside him in the dim candlelight. He’d raised his head and blinked a few times, trying to rid his eyes of sleepiness. She wasn’t unsure of his love for her, just wanted to hear the why.
Why me?
He was quiet for a few minutes. His way was quiet pondering, and she loved knowing everything he spoke would have been well thought through.
“Tenacity.” He said, raising himself up on one arm and resting his head in his hand. The other he placed gently in the middle of her chest, directly over the scar. “Your heart.”
She didn’t realize she was grimacing until he pulled his hand back all of a sudden and asked “What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?”
“Oh no, no!” She said, putting her hand on his. It took a few more moments to fully catch her thoughts and interpret the feelings. “I guess… I was just thinking. About the scar.” Why was this so hard to talk about? She hated feeling insecure with herself.
“What do you think about it?” He asked, his eyes so intently searching hers. She could look into those eyes forever.
“I…” she blinked and looked away, couldn’t keep his gaze with self-deprecation in mind. She shook her head. “I don’t know.” It was avoidance, she knew.
“It bothers you?” He asked, placing his hand there again, its gentle warmth seeping through her nightgown.
“It’s…” she turned to lay on her back and put a hand over her eyes. “Hideous.” Now, she felt tears pricking at the edges of her eyes and she couldn’t even figure out why. It wasn’t the sort of thing that really mattered, not really. Not in comparison to the diplomacy they’d been attempting throughout this whole week, or trying to be the best support for Theo she could, or dealing with the struggles of a young farm. She couldn’t understand why she was even feeling bothered to begin with.
She finally looked at him and found him aghast.
“Hideous?” he asked.
“Yes, I suppose so.” She said quietly.
“Never think that.” He said, bending down to lightly kiss her lips. “Hideous is for orcs. Never you.”
His arm wrapped around her back and he scooted down, kissing her chest.
***
He had kissed, and caressed, and whispered to it many times more over the next hour, making love to her soul as much as her body. She looked up and dropped her hand, unsure how long she’d been in reverie and hoping she had not called undue attention.
“Mariam!” She called out, waving to the younger woman. “How are your potatoes growing?"
"Quite well." Mariam beamed. “You saved my hide. I’d have pulled them out far too early, knowing what kind I’m used to.”
Bronwyn nodded, proud she could help. “When you do harvest, let me know what you would like to trade for, I seem to have an abundance of lavender.” Her stomach turned at even the mention of it. Perhaps Mariam would take all of it off of her hands. She could only hope.
She made sure to mention lavender several more times as she moved through the makeshift town, perhaps she’d even be able to get someone else to harvest it, if it didn’t stop triggering nausea. With Theo it had been the color white, which meant she had to double toast any bread before she could eat it, and a particularly bright cloud on a particularly difficult day had made her retch, once.
She stopped for a moment to look out at the wildlands on the edge of town. Mountains rose in the distance, surrounded by a wild and unyielding landscape. Hills and rivers, rock formations and bramble patches. Trees standing proud throughout it all, pine and cedar and maple and oak. They had done well enough creating a space for themselves among the wilderness, bending a small piece of it to their service.
Out there, though… out there was beautiful in its unrestrained growth. The unchecked power of nature was breathtaking to behold. She turned around, taking in their little town. There was beauty here, too.
Her eyes roved across the town, hoping to catch a glimpse of Arondir, though she knew that was unlikely. They should be back today, but, it seemed, not yet.
She was halfway through town on her way back home when a shout of victory sounded from somewhere on her left. The hunting party had arrived back, hauling multiple wild boars, grouse, and two elk. Quite the success. She waited, beaming, for the hunting party to present their prizes. The whole town lit up into cheers and excited chatter. There would be celebrations tonight.
“This is yours?” Bronwyn asked Theo as he set a boar to the ground.
He nodded. “It’s not an elk, of course.” He said, looking pointedly at Arondir, who in turn shook his head.
“Smaller game is just as important.” He turned to Bronwyn, “he was exceptional.”
Theo flushed at that, kneeled in apparent desperation to undo the ropes binding the boar.
“That’s my boy.” Bronwyn said. He was quickly becoming less and less of a boy. He was nearly a man already, and that thought alone brought a sudden rush of tears to her eyes.
She grasped for images of him as a baby, nestled in her arms, forming his first words, pulling himself to stand for the first time. The years had dimmed all but the brightest memories, and even those were hazy at the edges. She remembered how it felt to hold him against her chest, his breath steady and slow as he slept. Heavy but not heavy. How her hands rested on his back and bum, stroked his wisps of baby hair and let his tiny hand grasp her thumb.
Every memory was a moment she missed, desperately wished she could relive just once more, and yet was grateful to have moved past them because it meant that she could be here, right now, bursting with pride at the man her son was growing into.
***
The festivities lasted long past sundown, and one whole elk was feasted on, each person getting their portion. Once they’d finally made their way home and readied for a well earned sleep, Bronwyn was reminded there was something particular she needed to tell Arondir. She’d put on her nightdress and sat gingerly at the end of the bed.
“My love.” Her breath seemed to almost disappear, heart pounding so loudly in her chest. He came and sat beside her, immediately aware that she had something that needed saying. She focused on his face for a long moment, trying to picture what features of his their child might have, how those features would mingle with her own to create a whole new face.
“I…am with child.” She said, simply. She preferred to just bluntly speak rather than chasing one’s tail.
“I thought…” he trailed off, surprised, but he did not seem displeased.
“I did too.” She nodded. “I thought I could not, after Theo. And yet.” She looked up at him and smiled.
“With child.” He said again, as though trying to make sure it was real. He was grinning now. “Our child.”
She nodded again and he let out a very uncharacteristic whoop of elation.
Bronwyn laughed, then pulled him close for a kiss and a muffled “Shh, Theo!”
“Well, he’s to know, isn’t he?” Arondir asked, wrapping his arms around her to keep them close.
“Well, yes, but… not yet.”
“Not yet?” He pulled his face back to look into hers.
“I just… don’t know how he’ll take it.” She looked away. “I just want to make sure he’s all right…” she looked back at him, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek. “With us. With everything.”
He nodded and leaned forward for one more kiss.
“I love you.” He whispered, just before their lips met.
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A playlist curated for Arondir and Bronwyn as a couple 😍😍
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Cottagecore Arondir & Bronwyn
Chapter 1
(Also on AO3)
The moment everything changed began like any other. It had been a wonderfully rainy spring and a warm and pleasant summer. Just the kind of year that makes planting and harvesting a joy.
Last year had been hard on them. On the whole village, really. Sometimes the rains don’t come until the seedlings have sprouted and determine themselves to drown. Then winter had come, and they’d spent many a day huddled around the fire, the snow too deep outside to dig out and go anywhere other than a path Arondir had carefully carved to and from the storehouse.
She hadn’t minded though. Arondir and Theo had practiced their sparring, always ending in a fit of laughter. She’d taken charcoal and set to paper all the versions of each vegetable and tree and flower she could think of, eager to test her memory against reality once the snow began to melt and the sun shone again.
Theo did not take as well to the confinement. She knew his mood swings were most often due to needing to get out, expend energy, see anyone other than his mother and stepfather. She could do nothing significant to help on any of those counts.
He was a child of the southlands through and through, quite unused to such heavy snow and cold winters. They had winter, sure, but nothing like the ones they’d had since migrating further north.
One day stuck in her mind, even now, long past the last chill of winter. Theo and Arondir were practicing, as usual. Sparring with wooden staffs, stretching, improving form and technique. Arondir was instructing something or other when the sparring practice ended abruptly as Theo threw the wooden staff to the floor and shouted something unintelligible. Bronwyn looked up sharply from where she stood kneading bread at the table.
“Theo!” She said, reproving.
“I hate this!” He responded, with a look that made her wonder if he implied having Arondir here. Perhaps just being instructed. He was just fifteen, after all. Still learning. Still growing. Was it just her fear?
“That’s unnecessary.” Arondir said, picking up the staff and holding it out for Theo to grab. Theo did not move toward it, instead crossing his arms and turning away.
“I don’t get the point. If we can’t use real weapons, I’m not learning anything.”
“As I said-” Arondir started.
“I know what you said.” Theo cut him off. “I’m sick of this damned house.”
“Theo!” Bronwyn said again, this time setting her hands down on the table and looking directly at him. “This is hard on everyone.”
Theo huffed, and didn’t respond.
“Come now,” Arondir said, his voice a calming presence. He stepped toward Theo and held out the staff again. “Take this and let’s try once more. You can-”
“I’ve got to get out.” Theo cut him off again. As he moved toward the door, Bronwyn rushed around the table.
“This is not how I raised you.” She said. He did not stop, but yanked open the door, letting a blast of frozen air rush through the room.
“Your furs!” She shouted, but he was already out and the door slammed behind him. She looked at Arondir just as he looked at her and a sort of understanding passed between them. They both knew Theo needed to get out, perhaps to be alone for a while, but also that he was pigheaded enough to freeze to death on principle of not returning to the house.
Arondir nodded and moved to the door. He pulled on a fur coat and threw a second one over his shoulder.
“Wait,” Bronwyn said, moving closer. He stepped back from the door and turned to face her. She moved close enough for her chest to brush against his and stretched her head up. He bent down to meet her kiss. Their lips connected in one delicious moment, a hungry desire desperate to break forth. No, the confinement had not been easy on them either, so often relegated to only express their feelings through looks across the room.
Finally, they pulled away and she did not move for a long moment, just looking at him.
“Bring him back safe.” She said, quietly.
“Always.”
***
Bronwyn paced, and worried. She finished her loaf, set and reset the table, decided to make a cobbler. Could Theo have attempted to go off into the snow himself and gotten lost? The thought was too horrifying, so she banished it immediately. Still, her hands beat the dough much harder than necessary. She poured rehydrated fruit into the pan and worried about how long they’d both been gone.
After placing the pan inside the oven, she moved to the window and looked out. Nothing but snow, piled up high enough to cover the window halfway. Even just staying outside for so long in this cold could be dangerous.
She checked the cobbler far too often and took it out a tad too early. She set it on the counter with a sigh.
“Oh, Theo.”
Just then the door burst open and in he strode, wrapped in a fur coat. Arondir came in just behind him, catching her eye before shutting the door quickly and moving to stand by the fire. Theo shrugged off his coat and stood for a long, awkward moment, then said “Sorry ma.” She gave a nod in response and smiled. He hung his coat on the rack and moved to stand by the fire as well.
They’d survived the rest of the winter in relative peace. Spring came, melting the snow and ending their isolation. Now in June, it almost seemed a long-forgotten dream. Bees sang the songs of summer in their low hum, lazily drifting from flower to flower. Color abounded in every direction. Her barley field green and yellow, rose bushes blooming white, yellow, and red, fruit trees drooping, and every which way were fields and fields of wildflowers.
The lavender was so brightly purple that she knelt and picked an inflorescence. As she raised it to her nose, she found the scent lovely as expected, but her stomach flipped in an odd way. She smelled it again and had a faint, but undeniable urge to retch. She looked down, as though laying eyes on her stomach would provide any definitive answers. Or perhaps she just wanted to think there was any other reason for that feeling than what she knew.
She hadn’t thought it was possible, and so did not know what to feel. How was it that it had never happened but the one time, even with Theo’s father? Theo and Arondir weighed heavy on her heart. Would they be disappointed, at having their worlds turned upside down, especially so unexpectedly? Arondir, she was fairly certain, would be delighted, or at the least, easily accepting of the situation. Theo was far more unpredictable, and she couldn’t blame him for feeling any kind of way about this particular shock.
She rested a hand on her stomach. No other sign as of yet beyond the faint, telltale urge to retch. She still did not know quite how to feel about it, but was fairly sure of one thing – she would be exceptionally pleased to make Arondir a father.
#rings of power#fanfic#lord of the rings#arondir#bronwyn#theo#arondir x bronwyn#cottagecore#cozy stories#aronwyn
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