Building The Future
Jul. 9th, 2007 01:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tanaquiljallBy request, I am reposting several of my drabble-a-day drabbles together so they can be nominated as a single fixed-length ficlet series at the MEFAs. If you'd like me to put together any other drabbles in a series so they can be nominated for the MEFAs, please let me know!
Building The Future
A series prompted by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
telperion1 asking for something Hobbit-centric. Specifically about the resettling of Dale/Laketown/Erebor after the big battle. Incomplete - more drabbles may be added as the muse strikes....
Dereliction of Duty
For months, it was a camp more than a town. Of men under canvas who daily toiled to clear rubble, rebuild walls, fix roofs, and till fields that had seen no crops but weeds for many a year.
But slowly the women returned. Wives, mothers, daughters: turning houses into homes, planting gardens in the garths, keeping chickens, gathering and gleaning after the reapers.
After a while, seeing how his people and their families flourished, Bard realised he had put in train all that mattered for the rebuilding of the Kingdom of Dale – save perhaps the most important task of all.
Queen of Hearts
Bard knew how to choose the right piece of yew for a bow: pliant yet strong, sweet yet serviceable. He wished it were so easy to choose a wife!
Young ladies in Dale and Laketown fluttered their lashes and breathlessly asked for the tale of the Dragon's death until he grew sick of telling it. His counsellors gave sage advice about the benefits of this alliance or that.
Pausing at the river one evening to water his horse, he saw a plain-faced girl step forward and, with a few deft words, settle a shrewish quarrel between the laundry-women.
Bard smiled.
A hard row to hoe
Against counsellors' objections, he summoned her to court. She answered she would come when work in house and garth allowed.
He waited a week.
When she was presented at last, he tried to speak lovers' words, show her the splendours of his realm, promise the Necklace of Girion. She was courteous but unmoved.
He grew downcast.
Seeing it, she took his hand. "I would have gladly wed Bard the Bowman and been merry. But this...?"
He smiled. "I would return it all to win a heart like yours. But I must do my duty. Will you have me even so?"
Willing Sacrifice
Bard, fidgeting with the gold-encrusted collar of his tunic, felt as trussed up as the suckling pig that would form the centrepiece the day's feast. Oh, for the simplicity of life back in Laketown!
The dragon might have been a constant threat, but at least the danger was plain. Unlike the unceasing machinations of the diplomats from far-flung kingdoms who attended him on this special day.
A fanfare broke his musings and brought a broad smile to his grim face. Here, with sweet-scented flowers twined in her hair, came one who understood his burden, and had consented to share it.
Building The Future
A series prompted by
telperion1 asking for something Hobbit-centric. Specifically about the resettling of Dale/Laketown/Erebor after the big battle. Incomplete - more drabbles may be added as the muse strikes....Dereliction of Duty
For months, it was a camp more than a town. Of men under canvas who daily toiled to clear rubble, rebuild walls, fix roofs, and till fields that had seen no crops but weeds for many a year.
But slowly the women returned. Wives, mothers, daughters: turning houses into homes, planting gardens in the garths, keeping chickens, gathering and gleaning after the reapers.
After a while, seeing how his people and their families flourished, Bard realised he had put in train all that mattered for the rebuilding of the Kingdom of Dale – save perhaps the most important task of all.
Queen of Hearts
Bard knew how to choose the right piece of yew for a bow: pliant yet strong, sweet yet serviceable. He wished it were so easy to choose a wife!
Young ladies in Dale and Laketown fluttered their lashes and breathlessly asked for the tale of the Dragon's death until he grew sick of telling it. His counsellors gave sage advice about the benefits of this alliance or that.
Pausing at the river one evening to water his horse, he saw a plain-faced girl step forward and, with a few deft words, settle a shrewish quarrel between the laundry-women.
Bard smiled.
A hard row to hoe
Against counsellors' objections, he summoned her to court. She answered she would come when work in house and garth allowed.
He waited a week.
When she was presented at last, he tried to speak lovers' words, show her the splendours of his realm, promise the Necklace of Girion. She was courteous but unmoved.
He grew downcast.
Seeing it, she took his hand. "I would have gladly wed Bard the Bowman and been merry. But this...?"
He smiled. "I would return it all to win a heart like yours. But I must do my duty. Will you have me even so?"
Willing Sacrifice
Bard, fidgeting with the gold-encrusted collar of his tunic, felt as trussed up as the suckling pig that would form the centrepiece the day's feast. Oh, for the simplicity of life back in Laketown!
The dragon might have been a constant threat, but at least the danger was plain. Unlike the unceasing machinations of the diplomats from far-flung kingdoms who attended him on this special day.
A fanfare broke his musings and brought a broad smile to his grim face. Here, with sweet-scented flowers twined in her hair, came one who understood his burden, and had consented to share it.
