tanaquiljall (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tanaquiljall) wrote2004-12-04 03:18 pm
tanaquiljall) wrote2004-12-04 03:18 pm
Another set of drabbles
Ithildin wanted something about Elves.
A grandmother’s sacrifice
Arwen and I are baking lembas when the messenger comes. I watch how she stills her movements at his name.
“It must be some years since you saw him,” I prompt.
She nods. “He was a mere boy.” Curiosity, not contempt, is in her tone.
Brought before me, I find him worn with travel and weary with long labour, yet he endures my gaze unflinching. I read his desire.
He is much like another Man I knew. My heart tells me his destiny will be as high - if he keeps hope.
I make my choice: that she make hers.
***
Melina wanted Eomer and Theodred growing up.
Fathers and sons, cousins and brothers
“Can I clean your harness? Groom your horse? Fetch your armour? Ride with you? He plagues me night and day.” Théodred glared into the fire. “Does the boy have nothing better to do?”
“No.” Théoden answered softly. “The one he should pester with such questions is gone. I would he were here for me to trouble with my needs. His mother also.”
He waved away Théodred’s stammered apology.
“Besides,” Théoden smiled, “as king, you will have many loyal and adoring subjects. Best practice with this small one. Be as a father unto him for a little while, I beg you.”
***
Juno wanted a drabble about Elrond.
Refuge
Featureless the wild moorland seems, yet ever our path is cut by deep-cloven valleys. Over and over, we scramble down their steep sides and toil back up their weary slopes as we escape north from the Deceiver.
’Tis near nightfall when we stumble down into another vale, to find a swift-flowing river fed by many white-foamed waterfalls. We are sheltered from the ceaseless winds of the heights, but I hear the trees whisper softly in counterpoint to a nightingale’s song.
A white star shines down and blesses me.
’Twould be a good place for weary warriors to rest, I think.
***
Azalais wanted Fellowship drabbles - any moments which show our beloved Nine together, in fellowship.
Renewed acquaintance
I sucked in my breath when he entered the council chamber. No longer a chubby infant in his nurse's arms: an imperfect copy of the doting face that once hung proudly over him looked uncertainly around the company.
I heard his father's voice, too, as he spoke of Gondor's valour, Gondor's needs. Well do I remember those wearisome debates. And, when Elrond named my title, it was his father's mistrust I saw in his eyes.
Many miles we travelled together, yet all too few. I would there had been more time to learn how he was not his father's son.
***
Bridiliel says she has an unnatural infatuation with Dwarves and Numenoreans and wanted something about these two races.
Faithful
Every morning I go first onto the balcony to look in the tub and marvel at the miracle of new life. All winter we have watched, fearful and hopeful, until the first green shoot showed. Yet my fears and hopes did not end then.
Today I see, wondering, that a bud has uncurled at last: a leaf, dark above and silver below.
“Well, and what are you looking at?” asks a familiar and long-missed voice.
I turn and find my brother sitting up in bed.
“I could eat two breakfasts,” he laughs, stretching and yawning.
“Have mine!” I offer joyfully.
***
But Isildur came at last hardly back to Rómenna and delivered the fruit to the hands of Amandil, ere his strength failed him. Then the fruit was planted in secret, and it was blessed by Amandil; and a shoot arose from it and sprouted in the spring. But when its first leaf opened then Isildur, who had lain long and come near to death, arose and was troubled no more by his wounds.
The Silmarillion, Akallabêth
***
A grandmother’s sacrifice
Arwen and I are baking lembas when the messenger comes. I watch how she stills her movements at his name.
“It must be some years since you saw him,” I prompt.
She nods. “He was a mere boy.” Curiosity, not contempt, is in her tone.
Brought before me, I find him worn with travel and weary with long labour, yet he endures my gaze unflinching. I read his desire.
He is much like another Man I knew. My heart tells me his destiny will be as high - if he keeps hope.
I make my choice: that she make hers.
***
Melina wanted Eomer and Theodred growing up.
Fathers and sons, cousins and brothers
“Can I clean your harness? Groom your horse? Fetch your armour? Ride with you? He plagues me night and day.” Théodred glared into the fire. “Does the boy have nothing better to do?”
“No.” Théoden answered softly. “The one he should pester with such questions is gone. I would he were here for me to trouble with my needs. His mother also.”
He waved away Théodred’s stammered apology.
“Besides,” Théoden smiled, “as king, you will have many loyal and adoring subjects. Best practice with this small one. Be as a father unto him for a little while, I beg you.”
***
Juno wanted a drabble about Elrond.
Refuge
Featureless the wild moorland seems, yet ever our path is cut by deep-cloven valleys. Over and over, we scramble down their steep sides and toil back up their weary slopes as we escape north from the Deceiver.
’Tis near nightfall when we stumble down into another vale, to find a swift-flowing river fed by many white-foamed waterfalls. We are sheltered from the ceaseless winds of the heights, but I hear the trees whisper softly in counterpoint to a nightingale’s song.
A white star shines down and blesses me.
’Twould be a good place for weary warriors to rest, I think.
***
Azalais wanted Fellowship drabbles - any moments which show our beloved Nine together, in fellowship.
Renewed acquaintance
I sucked in my breath when he entered the council chamber. No longer a chubby infant in his nurse's arms: an imperfect copy of the doting face that once hung proudly over him looked uncertainly around the company.
I heard his father's voice, too, as he spoke of Gondor's valour, Gondor's needs. Well do I remember those wearisome debates. And, when Elrond named my title, it was his father's mistrust I saw in his eyes.
Many miles we travelled together, yet all too few. I would there had been more time to learn how he was not his father's son.
***
Bridiliel says she has an unnatural infatuation with Dwarves and Numenoreans and wanted something about these two races.
Faithful
Every morning I go first onto the balcony to look in the tub and marvel at the miracle of new life. All winter we have watched, fearful and hopeful, until the first green shoot showed. Yet my fears and hopes did not end then.
Today I see, wondering, that a bud has uncurled at last: a leaf, dark above and silver below.
“Well, and what are you looking at?” asks a familiar and long-missed voice.
I turn and find my brother sitting up in bed.
“I could eat two breakfasts,” he laughs, stretching and yawning.
“Have mine!” I offer joyfully.
***
But Isildur came at last hardly back to Rómenna and delivered the fruit to the hands of Amandil, ere his strength failed him. Then the fruit was planted in secret, and it was blessed by Amandil; and a shoot arose from it and sprouted in the spring. But when its first leaf opened then Isildur, who had lain long and come near to death, arose and was troubled no more by his wounds.
The Silmarillion, Akallabêth
***