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Nope, not dead yet. Just blocked. I tend to do this thing, where I stay blocked for years, then a dam bursts, and it's a ton of writing.
Well, I decided to do some writing exercies this time around. Drabbles, inspired by the lines of some of my favorite songs off my mp3 players.
These will be Teen at the most. The majoritiy will be Tolkien-world, but expect some Torchwood, Kyou Kara Maou, Dark-hunter, and original stuff. Some are unfinished, some will become part of a greater canon, some will just be as they are.
Now, onto the first set.
By now, you should have somehow realized what you ought to do.
Lord of the Rings, possible place in the Legend, Lore, and Lullabies arc.
He had to say goodbye. Up here in the mountain pass, far removed from the life below, he had to cut the ties with his youngest child and let her live the life she had earned. No amount of denial, no pleading, no cursing, no prayer could change the outcome of this day. The decision was already made, the banners raised and the flags flown. The last of his line now mortal, an odd ending to a descent so intertwined between elf and man. There would be no bedside vigil for his Evenstar as the last vestiges of her life drained from both without and within. His brother died with family and friends along his side; his daughter would die alone. What a price to be paid for love. He would say his goodbyes to her now, while she remained whole and happy, her beauty at its pinnacle and her life still shining. These last words, this last embrace, these memories soon to be made, this is what he would carry on and over the sea to her mother.
As Arwen Undomiel approached from behind, Elrond took a breath and began their end.
Backbeat the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out.
Torchwood Very small bit that will probably never get expanded, but hey, you never know…
Ianto Jones knew emptiness. He knew blank stares, shadowed eyes, and smiles to hide the tears and the truth. They were the essential joints in the mask and armor he wore, forged by the flames of Canary Warf and the cries of Lisa’s dying humanity. He knew when a breakdown was coming, could see the signs in others as he never could, or would, in himself.
Toshiko Sato knew the value of invisibility. She also knew the curse of it. Few bothered to pay attention to the quiet girl with all the brains, and half of those who did were the very definitions and stereotypes of evil self-serving government agencies. Torchwood, her punishment, her freedom, her savior, made her visible while being invisible. She shone, with her skill and her knowledge, in the dark depths of Cardiff’s secret hub.
Tolkien-verse. This one will be expaned on:
Then I’m putting out the lantern, find your own way back home.
Ages spent walking the paths of this world, being the guide and guardian to generation after generation of elves. That was the description of Gildor Inglorion in the accounts of King Elessar. A few short sentences for each famous elf the King had ever encountered held a place in the precious library of the White City. No account existed detailing the final journey of Gildor Inglorion, the last walk from one end of Arda to the other. So many assumed he would last forever, to be the guide. So many elves left to find the path, they always forgot Gildor was not merely an institution, but his own person. His history was forgotten, his family just another group of elves on the other side of the sea.
8888
Gildor stood, his back to the sea, his lamp shining out into the night. He felt the smile stretching over his face as he took his last look out over the path leading into Arda’s mainland. One last look and he took a deep breath, lowering his lamp to mouth-level, he blew out the flame. Unbroken night took over the land.
Tolkien-verse; may be expanded for both
The seagulls know the truth of it and scream it overhead.
1.
Beware the cry of the gulls. Legolas always thought it was a myth. A nighttime tale to keep the curious wood elves from wandering past the borders. Few had seen the sea in Mirkwood and those who had were ancient, of his father’s generation or older. The population had dwindled over the years, and it wouldn’t do to have all the young elves run off to distant parts of the world. Legolas scoffed at the warnings the old eves at the court would pass on whenever he rode out. What could the cry of a bird do to him?
The he heard the gull’s cry.
******************
2.
Elrond was born by the sea. He grew on its sandy and rocky shores. His whole life found him following the path of water, letting it guide him from the sea into the land. The sea had given him comfort and taken his family. His brother lived and died on his island kingdom, his father could not part from the sea with his sailor’s soul. Still, there was comfort in its smell and sound, even with all the danger it posed. In the sea breeze he felt his brother’s lingering soul, in the night sky he saw his father shine. In the cries of the gulls he always, always, heard his mother’s voice.
************************************
Warnings: Spoilers for Darkness and Diamonds AND a reference to a F/F relationship (or, for those not in the know, a same-sex relationship).
Go to sleep my one true love and see your heart’s with me.
This is peace, Glorfindel thought, watching Morwen sleep. There was a steady rise and fall to her chest, a calm beat to her heart. The small grimaces of discomfort were the only proof of the pain that still wracked her body. The wounds were almost healed; now was the time of forcing the muscles and tendons to relearn habit. Six months since the attack. Six months of long rides to find information, of fearing every creak and whisper of the night. Eluialeth suffered nightmares, Elrohir a foul temper, and Elrond a deeper bout of brooding than ever before.
Glorfindel, he had to suffer from the shadows. He knew Morwen’s woods were correct, like centuries before, the attack was not about her, or Rian, or Celebrian, but were tactics to make Elrond feel useless, to enrage Glorfindel, to worry Erestor, to set the whole valley on edge and to exploit the weakness of any being with a soul by the threatening of a loved one.
It was almost obscene how easy the rumors and gossipers believed the spun tale of Glorfindel turning from Morwen and finding a lover in Arodeth. It was a good arrangement, he supposed, the times were rare when he had to play the besotted suitor, with Arodeth most eager to stay behind the borders of Mirkwood. Arodeth was grateful that the rumors kept the court-seeking elves away from her mother’s door and left her free to pursue her interest in Glovien without having to suffer the intense scrutiny of the nobles. The pretending of a relationship, however, was easier than the watching. Glorfindel knew Elrohir and Morwen were friends, siblings of the heart really, and both found comfort in the fact that while they played the part of a courting couple, the ever inquisitive circle of elves in Imladris looked less into the small details of Elrohir and Morwen’s lives. Still, it was one thing to know and another to feel. Elrohir and Morwen would make a good watch, if Elrohir was not so high-born and Morwen a fosterling of Elrond. It would not be the first marriage to begin in friendship; and how much easier would it be if the pretending became the truth? The small lies the bare fact? Despite his misgivings, Glorfindel knew neither Morwen nor Elrohir would settle for anything less than it all. Yet, it was difficult for Glorfindel. There were no more stolen nights, no hidden and quiet moments in friend’s rooms and offices. Their interactions were few, limited to public events and family gatherings. More than ever before Glorfindel was aware that something, someone, was always listening and watching.
So Glorfindel was left to this in order to soothe his mind. Watching her sleep, as he had done since her birth. Morwen’s breathing increased, her heart rate began to race and an angry twitching took over her body. Glorfindel pressed a soft kiss to her brow, ran a cool and steady hand through her hair, cupped her face with a caring palm. Morwen drifted back into a peaceful sleep, face tilted into Glorfindel’s hand.
“Sweet dreams.” Glorfindel whispered, before he slipped from the room.
More to come as soon as I finish taking them from the written page to the typed screen.
Well, I decided to do some writing exercies this time around. Drabbles, inspired by the lines of some of my favorite songs off my mp3 players.
These will be Teen at the most. The majoritiy will be Tolkien-world, but expect some Torchwood, Kyou Kara Maou, Dark-hunter, and original stuff. Some are unfinished, some will become part of a greater canon, some will just be as they are.
Now, onto the first set.
By now, you should have somehow realized what you ought to do.
Lord of the Rings, possible place in the Legend, Lore, and Lullabies arc.
He had to say goodbye. Up here in the mountain pass, far removed from the life below, he had to cut the ties with his youngest child and let her live the life she had earned. No amount of denial, no pleading, no cursing, no prayer could change the outcome of this day. The decision was already made, the banners raised and the flags flown. The last of his line now mortal, an odd ending to a descent so intertwined between elf and man. There would be no bedside vigil for his Evenstar as the last vestiges of her life drained from both without and within. His brother died with family and friends along his side; his daughter would die alone. What a price to be paid for love. He would say his goodbyes to her now, while she remained whole and happy, her beauty at its pinnacle and her life still shining. These last words, this last embrace, these memories soon to be made, this is what he would carry on and over the sea to her mother.
As Arwen Undomiel approached from behind, Elrond took a breath and began their end.
Backbeat the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out.
Torchwood Very small bit that will probably never get expanded, but hey, you never know…
Ianto Jones knew emptiness. He knew blank stares, shadowed eyes, and smiles to hide the tears and the truth. They were the essential joints in the mask and armor he wore, forged by the flames of Canary Warf and the cries of Lisa’s dying humanity. He knew when a breakdown was coming, could see the signs in others as he never could, or would, in himself.
Toshiko Sato knew the value of invisibility. She also knew the curse of it. Few bothered to pay attention to the quiet girl with all the brains, and half of those who did were the very definitions and stereotypes of evil self-serving government agencies. Torchwood, her punishment, her freedom, her savior, made her visible while being invisible. She shone, with her skill and her knowledge, in the dark depths of Cardiff’s secret hub.
Tolkien-verse. This one will be expaned on:
Then I’m putting out the lantern, find your own way back home.
Ages spent walking the paths of this world, being the guide and guardian to generation after generation of elves. That was the description of Gildor Inglorion in the accounts of King Elessar. A few short sentences for each famous elf the King had ever encountered held a place in the precious library of the White City. No account existed detailing the final journey of Gildor Inglorion, the last walk from one end of Arda to the other. So many assumed he would last forever, to be the guide. So many elves left to find the path, they always forgot Gildor was not merely an institution, but his own person. His history was forgotten, his family just another group of elves on the other side of the sea.
8888
Gildor stood, his back to the sea, his lamp shining out into the night. He felt the smile stretching over his face as he took his last look out over the path leading into Arda’s mainland. One last look and he took a deep breath, lowering his lamp to mouth-level, he blew out the flame. Unbroken night took over the land.
Tolkien-verse; may be expanded for both
The seagulls know the truth of it and scream it overhead.
1.
Beware the cry of the gulls. Legolas always thought it was a myth. A nighttime tale to keep the curious wood elves from wandering past the borders. Few had seen the sea in Mirkwood and those who had were ancient, of his father’s generation or older. The population had dwindled over the years, and it wouldn’t do to have all the young elves run off to distant parts of the world. Legolas scoffed at the warnings the old eves at the court would pass on whenever he rode out. What could the cry of a bird do to him?
The he heard the gull’s cry.
******************
2.
Elrond was born by the sea. He grew on its sandy and rocky shores. His whole life found him following the path of water, letting it guide him from the sea into the land. The sea had given him comfort and taken his family. His brother lived and died on his island kingdom, his father could not part from the sea with his sailor’s soul. Still, there was comfort in its smell and sound, even with all the danger it posed. In the sea breeze he felt his brother’s lingering soul, in the night sky he saw his father shine. In the cries of the gulls he always, always, heard his mother’s voice.
************************************
Warnings: Spoilers for Darkness and Diamonds AND a reference to a F/F relationship (or, for those not in the know, a same-sex relationship).
Go to sleep my one true love and see your heart’s with me.
This is peace, Glorfindel thought, watching Morwen sleep. There was a steady rise and fall to her chest, a calm beat to her heart. The small grimaces of discomfort were the only proof of the pain that still wracked her body. The wounds were almost healed; now was the time of forcing the muscles and tendons to relearn habit. Six months since the attack. Six months of long rides to find information, of fearing every creak and whisper of the night. Eluialeth suffered nightmares, Elrohir a foul temper, and Elrond a deeper bout of brooding than ever before.
Glorfindel, he had to suffer from the shadows. He knew Morwen’s woods were correct, like centuries before, the attack was not about her, or Rian, or Celebrian, but were tactics to make Elrond feel useless, to enrage Glorfindel, to worry Erestor, to set the whole valley on edge and to exploit the weakness of any being with a soul by the threatening of a loved one.
It was almost obscene how easy the rumors and gossipers believed the spun tale of Glorfindel turning from Morwen and finding a lover in Arodeth. It was a good arrangement, he supposed, the times were rare when he had to play the besotted suitor, with Arodeth most eager to stay behind the borders of Mirkwood. Arodeth was grateful that the rumors kept the court-seeking elves away from her mother’s door and left her free to pursue her interest in Glovien without having to suffer the intense scrutiny of the nobles. The pretending of a relationship, however, was easier than the watching. Glorfindel knew Elrohir and Morwen were friends, siblings of the heart really, and both found comfort in the fact that while they played the part of a courting couple, the ever inquisitive circle of elves in Imladris looked less into the small details of Elrohir and Morwen’s lives. Still, it was one thing to know and another to feel. Elrohir and Morwen would make a good watch, if Elrohir was not so high-born and Morwen a fosterling of Elrond. It would not be the first marriage to begin in friendship; and how much easier would it be if the pretending became the truth? The small lies the bare fact? Despite his misgivings, Glorfindel knew neither Morwen nor Elrohir would settle for anything less than it all. Yet, it was difficult for Glorfindel. There were no more stolen nights, no hidden and quiet moments in friend’s rooms and offices. Their interactions were few, limited to public events and family gatherings. More than ever before Glorfindel was aware that something, someone, was always listening and watching.
So Glorfindel was left to this in order to soothe his mind. Watching her sleep, as he had done since her birth. Morwen’s breathing increased, her heart rate began to race and an angry twitching took over her body. Glorfindel pressed a soft kiss to her brow, ran a cool and steady hand through her hair, cupped her face with a caring palm. Morwen drifted back into a peaceful sleep, face tilted into Glorfindel’s hand.
“Sweet dreams.” Glorfindel whispered, before he slipped from the room.
More to come as soon as I finish taking them from the written page to the typed screen.
contemplative