The White City
Dec. 2nd, 2011 02:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misseDisclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or The Lord of The Rings
[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<bnotes:</b>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]
<b>Disclaimer:</b> Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or The Lord of The Rings
<bNotes:</b> Written for 365 Drabbles, Prompt - City
<cut text="Giles looked up, and found himself speechless">
Giles looked up, and found himself speechless. Even in this direst of times, the White City astounded with it's gleaming beauty. He had lived in London, visited Los Angeles, and many other of Earth's great cities, but this was beyond anything he'd seen before. Rome had her majesty, but this, Minas Tirith, stood tall and blinding in the sun.
“Beautiful, is she not?” a voice murmured past his shoulder.
Giles turned back to see the rather disreputable-looking Ranger who had led them here. “It is majestic,” he said simply.
“Once, the White City was full and busy, but now much of it has fallen into disrepair. I fear that worse is yet to come before she can once again shine with her true beauty.”
“She awaits her King,” Giles tried with a sidewards glance.
The Ranger, Aragorn, gave him a long, measuring look. “She prospers under her Steward,” he shrugged.
“A Steward is not a King,” Giles countered.
Aragorn shook his head. “When it is time for Gondor to have a King, Gondor will have a King.”
Giles studied the man beside him, then nodded. “May we both see that day,” he said finally.
“May we both see that day,” Aragorn, son of Arathorn, murmured in agreement.</cut>
<bNotes:</b> Written for 365 Drabbles, Prompt - City
<cut text="Giles looked up, and found himself speechless">
Giles looked up, and found himself speechless. Even in this direst of times, the White City astounded with it's gleaming beauty. He had lived in London, visited Los Angeles, and many other of Earth's great cities, but this was beyond anything he'd seen before. Rome had her majesty, but this, Minas Tirith, stood tall and blinding in the sun.
“Beautiful, is she not?” a voice murmured past his shoulder.
Giles turned back to see the rather disreputable-looking Ranger who had led them here. “It is majestic,” he said simply.
“Once, the White City was full and busy, but now much of it has fallen into disrepair. I fear that worse is yet to come before she can once again shine with her true beauty.”
“She awaits her King,” Giles tried with a sidewards glance.
The Ranger, Aragorn, gave him a long, measuring look. “She prospers under her Steward,” he shrugged.
“A Steward is not a King,” Giles countered.
Aragorn shook his head. “When it is time for Gondor to have a King, Gondor will have a King.”
Giles studied the man beside him, then nodded. “May we both see that day,” he said finally.
“May we both see that day,” Aragorn, son of Arathorn, murmured in agreement.</cut>
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Date: 2011-12-01 09:26 pm (UTC)