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A postscript by Pearl Took

This came to me yesterday (April 21) and I thought I would post it since it goes with "An Essay on Life." It is a look at part of the story from a different point of view.

Author: Pearl Took
Rating: G
Wordcount: 465

Gerontius Took's body gave a sharp, quick shiver, waking the old hobbit up. He blinked. Oh, yes. Isembard had got him up out of bed again this morning. How kind of him. He looked at the small table beside his favorite chair. Apparently he had already had his tea and toast; the empty dishes still sat there. It was time, he thought, to write in his diary. He sighed as he struggled with the weight of the leather bound book.

"Gets heavier every day, I think," he muttered as he did every time he maneuvered the book off the side table and onto his lap. He nearly spilled the ink while uncorking the bottle and again as he dipped the quill with a shaky hand.

"Tis a lovely morning!" His once strong writing now was scritchy, wobbly thin lines wandering in crooked rows across the page.

"Sunbeams are shining through the window more brightly than I have ever seen. The old room is fairly glowing." He paused, looking about the old familiar sitting room. The place hadn't looked this good in ages, he thought. Fresh. New. The colors deep, rich and vibrant. He went back to his writing.

"Ada loves that. Loves when the light pours in."

I should call her in to see it before the sun moves along on her course and the effect fades. Gerontius drew a shallow breath in order to summon his wife but stopped.

"Gerry, dear!" Ada's voice rang out clear and strong from the kitchen. "Come here and see this. I do believe a family of wee house sparrows is building a nest in the ivy outside my kitchen window. Come see!"

"I hear her calling me from the kitchen so I need to cut this entry short." His writing grew more spidery; it took a great effort to dip the pen. "I think she said something . . ." His hand stopped moving, twitched, then moved again. ". . . about sparrows building a nest in . . ." Pause. Twitch. Breath. Write. ". . . the ivy near the kitchen . . ." Pause. Twitch. Breath. Twitch. Write. ". . . window. I must go and see."

Gerontius sighed. It took so much effort to get up these days. He usually needed help. Slowly he put the quill on the table. Slowly he closed his diary then awkwardly replaced it on the small table beside his chair. He breathed in. Breathed out.

"I'm coming, Ada! Give this old hobbit a few moments to get his achy bones out of his chair." His chuckle brightened his voice. With a push of his arms Gerontius was up and on his way to the kitchen, not even noticing the empty, worn out body he left behind in the chair.


( 6 comments — Leave a comment )
Apr. 22nd, 2009 04:00 pm (UTC)
That's so lovely and poignant. May we all pass on as gently and brightly as this.
Apr. 23rd, 2009 01:37 am (UTC)
Thank you Shirebound :-) It gave me a peaceful feeling when it came to me. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Apr. 22nd, 2009 10:37 pm (UTC)
isn't it strange how some ideas just insist on being written.

hope my leaving ins so calm.
Apr. 23rd, 2009 01:38 am (UTC)
It is indeed! I was just restless until I got this typed up and then felt calm.
I hope my passing is like this too, nancylea; I think most of us do.

Apr. 23rd, 2009 06:58 am (UTC)
Oh, how wonderful! Just perfect!
Apr. 29th, 2009 03:36 am (UTC)
This is, if anything, even better than the fic it's based on, because it's focused. I really like this more concrete explanation behind that last journal entry. Beautiful!
( 6 comments — Leave a comment )


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