The Trees of Numenor by Himring  

Chapter 5: The Saddest of Farewells

Oiolaire

Prompt: Twig

Erendis, Aldarion

They pull her from the water—an old woman, grey-haired, a sheep-farmer from Emerie by her dress. How did she come here, so far out of her depth?  She’s clutching a stick—not a shepherd’s crook—a piece of oiolaire, but entirely stripped of bark, twigs and leaves.
By the time Ancalime realizes her mother is missing, Aldarion has landed. He tracks down his estranged wife in her unmarked grave near the harbour-front. A fine figure of a man, still—but he considers his legacy: great plans, might-have-beens; unease at home, unrest abroad.
‘Forgive me, Erendis. Too late, I’m back.’