Henneth Annûn Story Archive

Happy belated birthday, Nath...

*

"We, for our part, shall travel East."

Alatar's words ring out loud in the Council Chamber and as the echoes die I wish my twin had kept our plan silent.

"We?"

Curumo's gaze sweeps towards me.

"Does he speak with you, brother, or for you?"

My mouth is dry, my voice lost.

My eyes flicker right but Aiwendil looks away; they flicker left and Mithrandir stares back impassively…

…his message, however, rings clear and clean in my ears.

"The decision is yours, brother- for better or worse."

My decision is made.

"We speak as one."

Curumo nods.

"So be it."

*

Sorry this is late, RiverOtter, and equally sorry it's not a true drabble... but 111 is a good number for words nonetheless, I think?

*

A HOBBIT'S TALE

"Once upon a time…"

 He trails off as he notices the glare.

 "What? Have I said something wrong?"

 Elfstan snorts, derisive as only seven-year-olds can be.

 "All your stories start like that. They're boring."

 He raises an eyebrow.

 "Boring?"

 Elfstan nods.

 "There's no fights. Nobody ever dies. They're rubbish."

 The old Hobbit sighs.

 "You want a different story, then?"

 The little boy nods, and though it has been long years Sam still finds his voice shaking as he starts to read.

 "When Mister Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton…"

A very late happy birthday, Riverotter!

Once upon a time

"Inzil says you can't have seen an Elf. There are no Elves, and even if there are, they're not allowed on Yôzâyan."

"Child, what makes you think Inzil knows anything?" A long-drawn out sigh. "But she is right the Elves no longer come here. Just don't talk to her about them. You don't want to upset your friend, do you?"

A short silence, before Aglahad ran past him, going outside to play.

Later, he spoke to his mother. "You shouldn't tell the boy of Elves. Those days are gone."

"All the more reason to tell him of them, I'd think."

Who, me? 

I lay no crime upon thy doorstep, Tauriel- 'tis that wily Nath I blame...

Having become a grandmother in March, I'd like stories about passing on stories. Surely, there are lots of stories that grandparents tell their children about  'the good old days.' 

Why me???

You are now entirely to blame for my new tale- "Bellum Perennis"...

Where there's a whip, there's a way?

Some people have muses- I have goblins in mines.

Singing goblins, at that.