Fic: My Trembling Fingers Played With Yours. (Inspired by random poem)
My Trembling Fingers Played With Yours.
(By the Sword Divided - Edward Ferrar)
Potential spoiler for anyone who hasn't seen up to "A Sea of Dangers" and "Ring of Fire".
My Darling Lucinda,
France is a sad place to me, though merry enough for others. Many a cavalier here walks the gardens or attends performances or talks to all the great courtiers exiled here. They seem happy enough, for the most part.
I, though, must walk the gardens without you, attend performances without you, talk to people who are not you and lie in a bed contemptible because you do not share it.
In truth, my love, I yearn for Arnescote besieged, and the smell of powder in the air and your hand in mine. I long for that corner of the battlements where my trembling fingers played with yours and the cellar where last I held you.
When all this is ended, I shall not let you from my sight. Nor shall we quarrel, since I can bear nothing that may place any distance between us. Your name is on my lips and in my prayers.
Your devoted husband,
Edward.
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I went to http://www.poetryloverspage.com/cgi-bin/random_poem.cgi for inspiration. Here's the poem I got:
"You Looked So Tempting In the Pew"
By Robert Louis Stevenson
You looked so tempting in the pew,
You looked so sly and calm -
My trembling fingers played with yours
As both looked out the Psalm.
Your heart beat hard against my arm,
My foot to yours was set,
Your loosened ringlet burned my cheek
Whenever they two met.
O little, little we hearkened, dear,
And little, little cared,
Although the parson sermonised,
The congregation stared.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(By the Sword Divided - Edward Ferrar)
Potential spoiler for anyone who hasn't seen up to "A Sea of Dangers" and "Ring of Fire".
My Darling Lucinda,
France is a sad place to me, though merry enough for others. Many a cavalier here walks the gardens or attends performances or talks to all the great courtiers exiled here. They seem happy enough, for the most part.
I, though, must walk the gardens without you, attend performances without you, talk to people who are not you and lie in a bed contemptible because you do not share it.
In truth, my love, I yearn for Arnescote besieged, and the smell of powder in the air and your hand in mine. I long for that corner of the battlements where my trembling fingers played with yours and the cellar where last I held you.
When all this is ended, I shall not let you from my sight. Nor shall we quarrel, since I can bear nothing that may place any distance between us. Your name is on my lips and in my prayers.
Your devoted husband,
Edward.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I went to http://www.poetryloverspage.com/cgi-bin/random_poem.cgi for inspiration. Here's the poem I got:
"You Looked So Tempting In the Pew"
By Robert Louis Stevenson
You looked so tempting in the pew,
You looked so sly and calm -
My trembling fingers played with yours
As both looked out the Psalm.
Your heart beat hard against my arm,
My foot to yours was set,
Your loosened ringlet burned my cheek
Whenever they two met.
O little, little we hearkened, dear,
And little, little cared,
Although the parson sermonised,
The congregation stared.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~