Forum: HASA Birthday Cards Forum

Discussing: May 2007 Birthdays

May 2007 Birthdays

Hello, birthday babies and drabblers! If you have a May birthday, please post your request here. Birthday folk, please visit the HASA Birthday Cards workshop, put your story in it, and enter the May challenge.

If you have questions, please ask.

Gandalfs apprentice


May 6, RiverOtter: I would enjoy stories about Dol Amroth in any age.

May 15, Tasare: Anything with Curufin, the son of Fëanor, preferably before the invasion of Doriath.

May 18, Nath: I'd very much enjoy drabbles about any of the following characters: Tuor, Idril, Finrod Felagund, Arwen or Halbarad.

May 25, Dwimordene: Since I've just off-loaded a story completely populated by OCs, minus some passing references to canon characters, I'm the mood to see more OCs. Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is: (1) Write me a drabble that features an OC-canon interaction, or even an entirely OC sidebar snapshot; (2) Go and bug the author of the OC you most enjoy and ask him or her if you can write a drabble featuring their character. Provide a link to their story. Think of it as your pitch to readers to go read that story.



Dwim's request

Me, me! I'm a May baby!

Since I've just off-loaded a story completely populated by OCs, minus some passing references to canon characters, I'm kind of in the mood to see more OCs.

So, your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is one of the following:

1) Write me a drabble that features an OC-canon interaction, or even an entirely OC sidebar snapshot.

2) Go and bug the author of the OC you most enjoy and ask him or her if you can write a drabble featuring their character. Provide a link to their story. Think of it as your pitch to readers to go read that story.

My birthday is on the 25th, so it's a nice long while away.




Re: May 2007 Birthdays

My birthday is May 6th. I would enjpy stories about Dol Amroth in any age.




Birthday-drabble for RiverOtter

Happy birthday to you, RiverOtter!

Your request was hard to resist, even for my currently rather lazy muse.


Swan Song

Footprints ran along the night-dark beach, slowly erased by the encroaching tide. Sea-breeze obliterated any sound but the mournful hooting of a lone swan.

The Prince stood at the water's edge, spume-capped surf carressing his bare feet. The wind, fresh with the tang of brine and wet sand, teased his hair, glinting silver in the moonlight.

He watched the restless Sea, trying to imprint its elusive essence on his soul: familiar and unknowable, violent and soothing by turns.

Tomorrow he would ride against Orcs fleeing from their Wars with the Dwarves.

He knew he would never return to the Sea.


- "...the War of the Dwarves and Orcs was fought in the Misty Mountains (2793-9), of which only rumour came south, until the Orcs fleeing from Nanduhirion attempted to cross Rohan and establish themselves in the White Mountains. There was fighting for many years in the dales before that danger was ended." (RotK, Appendix A I (iv))
- In PoMe, Part One, VII, The Line of Dol Amroth, it is said of the sixteenth Prince of Dol Amroth (2709-2799) that he died in battle, or in another version, that he was slain by Orcs. I have taken the liberty to combine the two versions.
- Partly inspired by Chapter 8 of "Passages" by Isabeau of Greenlea, to be found on TFF.



Re: Birthday-drabble for RiverOtter

Imhiriel, that is lovely - what wonderful imagery you've used!  I could feel the sea and the sand and the wind.  Simply beautiful - but so sad for the Prince.




Re: May 2007 Birthdays

I have an idea for this, but I need to see if I can borrow the OC first!



Re: Birthday-drabble for RiverOtter

Imhiriel, that is lovely - what wonderful imagery you've used! I could feel the sea and the sand and the wind. Simply beautiful - but so sad for the Prince.

Thank you, Jay! In fact, the sea imagery was there from the first, but I had terrible problems with the second half of the drabble. I'm glad it worked out in the end...




Re: May 2007 Birthdays

My birthday is May 18.

I'd very much enjoy drabbles about any of the following characters: Tuor, Idril, Finrod Felagund, Arwen or Halbarad.



Re: May 2007 Birthdays: Nath

This is for Nath, who requested Finrod.  It's a story I started a long time ago, worked on very little since, and finished just now (because birthdays and time limits give me an excuse to finish things).  Link because it's too long to post here without taking up too much space:

Finrod/Amárië post Mandos.  PG.  At exactly 1200 words, I'm going to pretend it's a Valian drabble.



Re: May 2007 Birthdays: Nath

Ooh, shiny! *rushes off to unwrap present*


Good story!

LOL at 'Valian drabble', and a question about the title: should it not be etelehtuvanyes, 'him' rather than 'them'? 



Re: May 2007 Birthdays: Nath

Thank you.

Actually, the -T here is the objective form of the familiar second person (on account of how Quenya words can't end with a C), so 'may it be that I will save thee' rather than '... them'.  Probably obsolete, but I still have fanciful notions of a distinction between familiar and formal. ;>



Re: May 2007 Birthdays: Nath

Ah yes, of course...

And somewhat archaic Quenya is most likely justified for Amarië as a Vanya.



Re: May 2007 Birthdays - for RiverOtter

Where Is Home?

The air and sea smelled so clean and fresh, now that the storm had passed; she wanted to throw herself into the waves, feel the water wash over her and cleanse her as it did the beach. But that was not possible. She was with child. Everyone knew a woman with child was not allowed in the water.

She had so missed her home, the sea, and her father. When Denethor finally acquiesced and let her return to Dol Amroth for the summer, her joy was beyond telling. Yet, once she arrived, she had found that she carried the future Steward and was immediately prohibited from the sea. Next, she discovered her father, unaware of her return, was in Pelargir, arranging some sale or the other with the shipbuilders there. Lastly, her own room was in the midst of disarray as a long-overdue renovation had been ordered before her father left.

A tear fell, then another and another. Sitting on the wall overlooking the bay, she chided herself; she was a full-grown woman and hardly fit for sulking, but nothing could stay the tears, once they began their downward fall.

Standing, she stamped her foot. "I want to go home!"


RiverOtter - Sorry this is late - hope you enjoy!



Re: May 2007 Birthdays - Nath

Happy Birthday Nath! Hope you enjoy!

Creating Kingdoms

"Arafinwë," sighed Eärwen worriedly. "Look at your children!"

"Dear Manwë, they are not squabbling!" exclaimed the third Finwion as he looked.

"But look closely," said Eärwen. "Angaráto, Aikanáro and Artaher are wrestling and performing such normal activities...but those two are creating." Her voice dropped. "Like your half-brother."

Arafinwë frowned, watching Finderáto help Artanis arrange her miniature trees in a circle. "Nonsense," he said. "How could those two ever take part in any trouble?"

He and Eärwen then turned away from where the little forest was finished, and therefore missed as Finderáto began digging great holes in the roses' bed.

A/N: I have used the Quenya names, since they are still in Valinor at this point:

Arafinwë = Finarfin, Finderáto = Finrod, Angaráto = Angrod, Aikanáro = Aegnor, Artaher = Orodreth, Artanis = Galadriel



Re: May 2007 Birthdays - for RiverOtter

Thank you for my present. It reminds me that home is where the heart is.




Re: May 2007 Birthdays - for RiverOtter

Hello, RiverOtter,

You seem to have opened a small floodgate with your request of Dol Amroth. This is not about that fair land, but about her fair daughter. I think Finduilas and I will be spending some time together; plot bunnies are running rampant.... Hope you enjoy it nonetheless.


As she watches from her window, Denethor spends himself. At the very moment of his climax, the mountain spews forth.

"Fitting," she whispers, turning from the sight.

"I am useless; he must take relief in other ways." Swallowing her shame, closing the door to their private garden, and finally falling upon their bed, she shuts him out.


She had failed him - miserably, utterly, completely. There had been only one reason for him to marry her - to give him heirs - and all she had produced were two. The Warden had been adamant; she must not bear again, else she would die.

He had sworn that he loved her, sworn to her on the White Tree that the two sons she had given him were more than he could ever hope for. Yet, her heart was troubled and refused to accept his words, his gifts, his love.

Mithrandir had come, after the sentence had been passed, and held her hand, telling her she heeded an evil voice. She listened to him meekly, let him ramble on about her goodness, her fulfilling of Gondor's needs, and she fooled him; the old man left her, a smile upon his face.

The blue cloak lay upon the floor; she kicked it in pain and frustration. She was not worthy of such love, such devotion, such gifts. Her own self-hatred grew. She heard the voice again and walked slowly to the Tower, to the one thing that understood her.

She put her hands once more upon the cold globe and opened her mind.



Re: May 2007 Birthdays - for RiverOtter


Ooooh, shivery! Very unexpected premise, Agape. You have put on the head several fandom conventions in one stroke. I have to admit I winced when she kicked that cloak.

And the ending was a brilliant twist.




Re: May 2007 Birthdays

Happy birthday, Nath!

Finrod Felagund speaking - and I even managed to sneak Idril into the drabble !




In the Halls of Waiting, Lord Námo asked about the worst pain of my previous life:

Feeling Amarië's last, desperate embrace loosen?

Seeing my father's sorrowful eyes, devoid of reproach, loving even as he turned back from our doomed course?

Being unable to dry Idril's tears when her mother joined the dead of the Grinding Ice?

Dying ignomiously, by the rending, mauling bite of the werewolf?

"All this," I answered. "But one thing more:

"When I stood before my people, their hearts wrested from me by the Fëanorians' inflaming words, I received a bitter wound indeed:

"I received Orodreth's... silence."



Re: May 2007 Birthdays - Nath

Thank youSmile

Creating? What could be more harmless... 



Re: May 2007 Birthdays


 Thank you!



Re: May 2007 Birthdays

I'm bad for making you cry on your birthday, I know! But I'm glad to know the drabble moved you.




Re: May 2007 Birthdays--Dwim

Enjoy, Dwim.


          "I don't see why you brought the faunt," Gil said, looking at the place where young Berilac sat against the trunk of a rowan tree, his knuckle to his mouth.  That was what the four-year-old always did when he wasn't certain what was expected of him--gnawed at his knuckle.  Perhaps better than sucking on his thumb, Gil supposed as he turned his attention back to their leader.

          "We won't be able to pull this off without him," Frodo assured him.  "If it was one of us they'd realized in a second that this was a diversion, and they'd send someone to check out the gardens to see if there were more of us, scrumping their vegetables.  But if it's a faunt who barely talks as yet, they'll be all worried about him."  He turned to Brendilac.  "All right--we're ready for the kitten."

          "But, what if it just jumps down again, soon as we get it into the tree?" Brendi objected.

          "That cat hasn't figured out yet it can do so," Frodo assured him.  "He's still too young.  Once we get him on the limb, if anything he'll go up higher--he won't go down.  Lots easier to go up than to get back down again.  Okay, Freddy--you watch the windows, and let us know if you see any movement."  He turned to the chosen tree at the edge of the lane, an apple hanging a bit over the hedge that bounded the farm's orchard.  It was too high to reach up to the lowest limbs, so he squirmed under the hedge and carefully climbed up into and along the limb until he could reach down.  "Okay, hand me Sprite," he commanded in a low hiss.

          Gil unfastened the cover to the carrying basket and looked down into the pale grey face of the kitten, its green eyes huge as it looked up suspiciously at a tree canopy it didn't recognize.  "Come on, you,"  he said as he reached down and put his hand under its belly.  "Come on, and you'll get to do some climbing."

          Sprite was having none of it.  He'd apparently hooked his claws into the wicker used to weave the basket during the trip from the Hall, and showed no indication of agreeing to being ejected into a place it didn't know.  After getting one paw released, Gil worked on the second, only to find that once he was done the first had again made as great a purchase as it had known when he started.

          "Hurry up!" Frodo urged.  "Freddy's making signs!  It'll be no good if I'm seen up here!"

          "He's not cooperating!" Gil explained.  He worked on the first paw again, only to realize the claws of the second paw were more firmly dug into the basket than ever.  "Dogs and cats!" he spat.  "Brendi, help me!"

          Each of them worked on a paw, and soon they had the front paws disengaged, and then the back.  Gil quickly passed the kitten up to Frodo, although Sprite, unhappy about being forced into a situation not of its own choosing, was now seeking to anchor himself to the lad's hands.  "Take the dratted thing!" Gil begged, and finally Frodo managed to hook his hands under the kitten's chest and lift it up into the tree, setting it in a crotch where three branches went off in different directions.  At last the kitten's own uncertainty was working to their advantage as it hunkered down, glaring down at Gil, its claws clearly transferring its decision not to be moved to the branches.  Frodo didn't bother sliding back to the trunk, but fastening his own hands to the limb he lay along slipped off, allowed himself to dangle, then dropped the half foot to the ground on the outside of the hedge.  He quickly used a fallen branch of leaves from the hedge itself to sweep the grass he'd flattened as he'd squirmed under into a standing position, then he turned to Berilac.

          "Beri," he said in a no-nonsense tone.  "Sprite is stuck in the tree, do you understand?"

          The faunt nodded.

          "We can't go home till he's down again, and Willow's fixing trout and almond cakes for lunch."

          "Want some trout," the child said clearly. "I like trout."

          "And you like almond cake, too," Frodo prompted.

          The child nodded.

          "You need help to get him down, and we have to go that way," he said, pointing down the lane toward the Bucklebury Ferry.  "And you can't get any trout or almond cake until you can get someone to help you get him down."

          "You get him down," suggested the child.

          "I can't--we need to go that way," Frodo said.  "But we can't get any trout or almond cake until he's down and back in the basket."  He kicked the open basket over on its side.  He gave a nod at Gil and Brendi, and they stepped back.  "Remember, Beri," he repeated, a bit more loudly, "we can't go back until the kitten is in the basket."  He grabbed the other lads' shoulders and drew them away around the turn, leaving Beri there with the basket, looking up in consternation at Sprite, perched up in the apple tree.

          "Do we go into the garden now?" Freddy asked as he joined them in the shade of the hedge some way beyond Beri.  "We oughtn't to, for they're coming outside and they'll most like see us."

          "Not until they're busy with Beri and the kitten."

          "But how will they even notice him?" Gil asked, frustrated.

          "They will," Frodo assured.  "Beri's just working it out, but he'll start crying soon, and loud.  He's very loud when he realizes he might be missing something he likes, like trout and almond cake."

          Brendi looked at their cousin with admiration.  "Is that why you asked Willow if she'd cook those today?" he asked.

          "Well, Uncle Rory brought home a whole string of trout yesterday--why not use them to our advantage?" Frodo began, and just then he stopped, a look of triumph on his face as Beri at last realized he'd been left alone by his cousins and they wouldn't come back until the kitten was out of the tree, and began to wail.

          Gil had to admit that when Frodo'd declared Berilac Brandybuck was the right one for this caper he'd been right--the faunt's scream of rage and frustration was piercing.  The four of them peered around the bush in time to see a farmer and his wife come running.  Beri was pointing up into the tree at Sprite, who, upset at the noise had retreated back toward the trunk, and the goodwife, realizing the problem, was trying to reassure the child.  The farmer had to go back to the entrance to the orchard and come back up the hedge to get to the place the kitten had now flattened itself against the trunk, but as the Hobbit reached up to try to pluck the kitten out of its perch it reached down and swiped at him, catching the back of the farmer's hand and leaving a red line of broken skin behind. 

          Gil was watching, fascinated, when Frodo grabbed at him and drew him away.  "Come on!" he was hissing.  "Let's not waste the time watching--it will take him some time to get that kitten out of the tree--believe me!"  Gil found himself being dragged to the place they'd already determined would give them best access to the lines of tomato plants, whose fruits were just now reaching that plump, red perfection....

          By the time they got back a ladder had been fetched, as well as a small throw of some sort, and Sprite, true to Frodo's predictions, had climbed quite high in the apple tree, lodging himself in the midst of several shoots going off in different directions.  The vocabulary of the farmer seeking to get the animal out of the tree was far wider than any of the lads had anticipated, and they absorbed some colorful phrases that Gil promised himself he'd use on Gomez back at the Hall, and soon.  At last the fellow managed to get the thick cloth wrapped sufficiently around the kitten to trap its feet, and with a grunt of triumph he lifted the whole mess up free of the hampering shoots and leaves and quickly swaddled it, then carried the struggling bundle back down the tree where his wife held the basket opened and ready to receive its intended occupant.

          Now there was a new struggle, for Sprite, having hooked his claws in the blanket, had no intention of letting go.  "Oh, for pity's sake, Clovis," the goodwife said, exasperated with her husband's growing frustration, "we can easily do without the wee blanket.  Let the lad have it!  Just put the whole thing into the basket and be done with it."

          Realizing this would relieve him of the entire situation, the farmer did just that, and his wife quickly had the basket closed and fastened before the kitten could realize it might escape yet again.

          Frodo thumped Freddy on the shoulder, and with a final glance back at Frodo the older lad rose from where he'd been kneeling and peering around the bush to watch, and hurried out, calling, "Derry!  Derry!  Where are you?"

          It was masterful, Gil thought, as he saw Freddy join the farmer and his wife, explaining he'd been walking with his brother, who'd insisted on carrying the kitten's basket, and apparently the lad had stopped to look in at the wee thing and it must have escaped.  "I didn't even realize he wasn't right there behind me," he said.  "Oh, thank you for watching him for me.  Well, come along, Derry, for elevenses will be on the table before we get there if we don't leave now.  And we're promised almond cake."

          Fred scooped up the basket and hurried to catch up with Berilac, who'd caught sight of Frodo peering around the hedge and was heading toward him as fast as his little legs could carry him.  Grabbing the faunt's hand, Fred allowed himself to be dragged along by the child, smiling with triumph as they came abreast the other lads and they all turned to hurry back toward the place where they'd left the small rowboat they'd used to cross the river in a copse of willow shrubs.  And as they turned away from the farm hedge at last, Gil could swear he heard the farmer's cries of dismay at finding all his ripe tomatoes had been taken by scrumpers.  He grinned as he reached down to pick up little Beri so they could go more quickly.



Re: Raiding

Ah, the worst young rascal in Buckland adds another feather to his cap! Very clever bit of conniving, Larner - I loved seeing Frodo through the eyes of a fellow rascal.


P.S. I have a birthday drabble story set up now. Please add you drabble to it here.



Re: Raiding

Durn--I tried the link, but couldn't get it to work.  How about sending me the URL and I'll try it from home this afternoon?

Sorry it's a bit more than a drabble, but I have trouble keeping my stories short, you know.



Re: Raiding

The weird thing is that when I clicked on the link, I couldn't make it work, either! Huh.

Here's the URL:

Otherwise, just follow the links in the forum description to the birthday card's workshop.

And no worries, I don't mind ficlets - sometimes, the story just won't be confined to 100 words no matter what!




Re: Dwim's request

For you, Dwim...hope you enjoy! 

Delicate Question

Imrahil smoothly slunk to where his standard-bearer stood, and nodded in the direction of the newly-finished coronation. "You are in luck, Breged," he said with a chuckle.

"I was born so, lord, else I should not have lasted thirty years as your standard bearer."

"Well, oh greatest target among my forces, and so clearly blessed, shall you now finish what you promised concerning yon Captain Thorongil?" said Imrahil slyly.

"And ask him his age?" asked Breged, his one eye scarcely visible beneath his bushy crop.

"The reaction should interest me," said Imrahil, smiling rather wickedly.

Breged grinned fiercely. "I will!"

A/N: Breged is Sindarin for "suddeness, violence" 



Re: Delicate Question

LOL! Well, as long as Breged doesn't try to feed Aragorn something noxious, I'm sure he'll survive the encounter. Imrahil and Breged remind me of a pair of boys, daring each other to ask ever more outrageous questions of some authority figure, waiting to see who's going to be smacked down first.

Thanks, MerryK! Do please add this to my birthday entries!




Re: Delicate Question

Thanks! Imrahil and Breged are about the same age, that is, they would be approximately 18 - 25 when Thorongil was alive...I definitely wanted this to have a tone of recalled youth. I'll add it to your story.




Re: Birthday-drabble for RiverOtter


will you be creating a story in the birthday-drabble workshop for us to add our presents?




Re: Birthday-drabble for RiverOtter

If someone will direct me there and give instructions, sure.




Happy belated birthday, RiverOtter

I hope this suits! It's Dol Amroth before it's Dol Amroth, but it's about the only thing I could think of that involved the city itself in some important way.

re: creating a birthday story for the ficlets to go in: just make a story like usual, and call it "RiverOtter's 2007 birthday fics". Then come back to this forum, and follow the link to the Birthday Card Workshop in the first message of this thread. You can enter your story into it, and we can then go and add our ficlets to it as chapters.



April, 1432 of the Third Age

The sea winds blew across the Bay of Belfalas, stirring white caps. A storm was rising—one of the grand summerlies come to batter the shore. Prince Amrazar of Dor-en-Ernil stood pensively in his tower, feeling the air in its heaviness, the promise of thunder to come.

Long had his city stood and turned her proud face to the winds, sheltering her people from weather and war, guarding within her walls the ways of Númenor, the ways of the Faithful. And in this late day and age, that was a rarity even in Gondor. The kingship was faltering-—had been for years, Rómendacil's efforts notwithstanding, and even he had sent his own son out to seek strength in the North, and now that gambit was failing, as Amrazar had feared it must. Pelargir was rising, and Umbar with it. And there between them lay Belfalas, with its city standing proud upon its promontory.

Proud… and alone.

Amrazar looked down at the letters upon his desk: one from Osgiliath and one from Pelargir; one a plea for his support, the other with but one question:

Will you stand with us in council?

Swans, they said, loved for life-—faithful 'til the end of their days, they held forth against all who would part them from each other. The royal seal seemed to gaze balefully at him, reminder of oaths long-since sworn. Amrazar sighed as he gazed once more out the window at the white city below, then reached for a pen.


"My lords!" The Lord of Pelargir and the Captain of Ships looked up as a page burst into the dayroom with a letter in hand. "Message from Dor-en-Ernil, my lords!" the boy gasped.

"Give it here," the captain said swiftly, and reached for the knife at his belt. One swift cut and the letter slid into his hand. He eagerly unfolded it, stared a moment at the single line upon the page, and then a slow smile spread over his face.

My lord Castamir—I will.



Re: Happy belated birthday, RiverOtter

Thanks for my present.

I have followed your instructions and made an entry in the Birthday Card Workshop.




Re: Happy belated birthday, RiverOtter

...made an entry in the Birthday Card Workshop.

Thank you for creating the story, RiverOtter. I have added my drabble just now - I hope you liked it.




Re: May 2007 Birthdays

i suppose it's a little late, but my birthday is may 15...

anything with Curufin, the son of Fëanor. preferably before the invasion of Doriath.

many thanks.



Re: Dwim's request

One drabble series full of OCs. Hope you, erm, "enjoy" this, Dwim.

Of Númenor That Was


Menelgund dove through the air, willing himself not to cough at the fumes. He was the eyes, the nose, the ears of Manwë Súlimo himself! How could one so exalted as he retch like a common gull?

Yet the smoke carried more than just the smell of brine and ash. That he had smelled in Valinór, when the Elf-children made their festival bonfires. This was different. He dared a deeper breath and a putrid scent assailed him: singed hair and scorched man-flesh.

Menelgund climbed high, through the clouds, far above his brothers. Anything to get far from that awful odor.


She would have screamed, if she could. The king's men had given her a drink earlier, to dull the pain they'd claimed, and now her tongue lay useless against her cheek.

She was going to die; Gimilbêth felt the flames lick at her calves. Yet the priests still spoke, exalting the one true God of Men who gave them life eternal. Surely they had not started yet?

A spark caught her eye, and her soul wailed within her. So loud was its cry, she marvelled that none could hear. And then, as the Wave crashed overhead, the Flames took her.


Sakalzôr kneeled behind the altar, blinking furiously. He knew Annatar's teachings well: how, when the One returned even the dead would awake, and how those whose blood had slaked His thirst would stand at His side when Taniquetil crumbled. Sakalzôr believed those ancient truths completely; truly, his sister would join the One's harem.

So why did his eyes mist? 'Twas a good death. Sakalzôr swallowed hard and, as the officiant spoke the final words, thrust his brand into the coalbed he had lain Gimilbêth on.

Then he heard, overhead, a deafening roar. And Sakalzôr looked up, and saw, and wept.


Nénheri wandered among the wreckage. Many of Ulmo's handmaidens were content to guide the elf-ships to the hidden paths, but she had always been an adventurer. What secrets lay buried there?

She swelled the ocean's current to wash aside the crumbled entryway, and she entered. Even in decay the temple was grand; how beautiful it must have seemed at its height!

But then she saw the blackened bones, and of a sudden the gold looked garish and mottled. She gathered the girl in her arms and left to find her lord. No child of the One would be left here.

Dwim asked for drabbles involving OC's. Obviously this series of drabbles is populated entirely by such characters, but the situation and races are every bit Tolkien, especially the tragedy of the sacrifices of Númenor. The names are derived from elements of Sindarin, Quenyan, and Adúnaic taken from canon, but are not intended to mean anything. The title is derived from Faramir's statement in The Two Towers, that Gondorians look "towards Númenor that was, and beyond to Elvenhome that is, and to that which is beyond Elvenhome and will ever be."

Happy birthday, O Mistress of the Evil Nûzgulim. I hope this was sufficiently dark and deep to suit your tastes.



Re: May 2007 Birthdays

Nath - so sorry it's late, but I really wanted to write Finrod - I'm falling in love with the Elf (don't tell the men of Gondor!) Arwen said she wouldn't mind wishing you a happy birthday though.

Arwen's Woe

Did they not notice? She sat, day in, day out, the embroidery needle in her hand, stabbing the thread through the fragile fabric. It screamed, as she could not, as the needle dove into its very being. 

Stab, then pull the thread through. 

She watched them ride out, their calls loud and boisterous, as she remained behind. She listened to the gossip of the brave deeds they did, saw the wonder in her maidens' eyes. 

Stab, then pull the thread through. 

She cried out to join them. Her eyes, though dry, burnt with the same fire as theirs. Her heart withered inside her. She knew only endless sorrow. 

Stab, then pull the thread through.


They killed Orcs; she could only stab fabric until her fingers bled. No one noticed.



Re: May 2007 Birthdays

Thank you!

Nice and bitter Wink



Re: Dwim's request

Oof, you weren't kidding, Marta, when you said it was dark!

This is such a hard period to write about - how to handle the depth of horror that Annatar has introduced into Númenorean society? How do you handle the king's men?

I liked that this began and ended with the servants of the Valar - air and water surrounding Annatar's fire. Took me a moment to realize Menelgund is one of Manwë's eagles - loved the "retch like a common gull" line!

One wonders where Gimilbêth's faith lies in all of this. She's drugged out and terrified, as one would expect, but is she so despite her beliefs or is she so precisely because she doesn't share her brother's faith? Nénheri's tale appears either as ultimate compassionate redemption - it does not matter in the end what or who Gimilbêth served, there are some things that no one deserves as a child of the One, and that will be in some way rectified by Nénheri's action - or else the maia recognizes Gimilbêth as in some way faithful. One wonders which it is.

Thank you for my birthday drabbles! Chilling indeed.




Re: Dwim's request

Of Númenor That Was

Marta, this is a marvellous series, so poignant it hurts!

The following passage struck me the most, because it shows how far the Númenóreans have fallen that they have even forgotten their own history:

He knew Annatar's teachings well: how, when the One returned even the dead would awake, and how those whose blood had slaked His thirst would stand at His side when Taniquetil crumbled. Sakalzôr believed those ancient truths completely; truly, his sister would join the One's harem.




Re: Dwim's request

Oof, you weren't kidding, Marta, when you said it was dark!
I did warn you....

When I wrote you I'd only written I and IV, and I didn't know I would go as dark with II and III as I ended up being. You know how nuzgul have a mind of their own sometimes. I do wish I'd been a *bit* more upbeat for your birthday! I did try to think of cheery ideas, but couldn't come up with anything.

This is such a hard period to write about - how to handle the depth of horror that Annatar has introduced into Númenorean society? How do you handle the king's men?
Indeed. I can think of about seven different angles to take on Zimraphel alone, and that's not to say anything about all the others. There are so many different groups, and there's the moral conundrum of different levels of "evilness" in the supposedly good guys.... it's really something that deserves more probing.

I'm glad you finally figured out that Menelgund was an eagle--that's the downside of writing new OCs in drabbles, and I'm glad it finally came across. And I loved that line, too. Even birds have pride.

One wonders where Gimilbêth's faith lies in all of this.
I have my own ideas, but I think it's important that the reader think about that question themselves so I won't answer it publicly. Will reply to that email though. :-)

Same for Nenheri--there's an ambiguity there, but I'll email you about that, too. The way the two males and females approach their situation are connected, at least in my head.

Thanks for your thoughts. You have some really good insights here.



Re: Dwim's request

Thanks, Imhiriel. Working out stuff about just what the dark religion would believe was fascinating in its own way, if disturbing and draining. I'm glad you enjoyed it.



Re: May 2007 Birthdays

anything with Curufin, the son of Fëanor. preferably before the invasion of Doriath.

Oh I might have to do that for you even if its going to be late. I Heart Curufin.



Re: May 2007 Birthdays

Sorry - I know it was a birthday and everything, but I don't write Arwen and all I felt was her deep anger and hurt over not being able to avenge her mother's injuries.



Re: May 2007 Birthdays

Hey, I like dark...



For Dwimordene

Happy birthday, Dwim!

Originally, I had planned a very dark story. But my muse blithely scrambled about with my ideas until I was dizzy, then she set a nuzgûl of her own in my ear that didn't let me sleep until I obliged her and wrote it down.

So this work is co-authored by Imhiriel and her !muse.


There shall be Mirth at our Meeting

The stranger vanished among the market stalls, his loud laughter echoing over the Long Lake.

A dreamy sigh escaped the piemaker’s young wife, interrupted by her friend’s nudge.

“What are you on about, Bronwen? You’ve a fine husband yourself, now – no need to go looking at raggedy vagabonds! He looked positively dangeous!”

“Who said anything about need?” Bronwen readjusted the basket on her hip. “Lean, dark, tall: what’s not to like? Did you see that smile?”

“Pffft – because you gave him a free lunch!”

“Somehow, I rather think it had something to do with you calling him a ‘wind-bedraggled stormcrow’...”


- Title (slightly amended) is from the mediaeval Scottish poem “Peblis to the Play”. It also refers to the following quote from RotK, Appendix A I (v), The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen: “His face was sad and stern because of the doom that was laid on him, and yet hope dwelt ever in the depths of his heart, from which mirth would arise at times like a spring from the rock.”
- Gandalf uses the words “lean, dark, tall” to describe Aragorn in his letter to Frodo in FotR, Strider.
- One of Gandalf’s rather unflattering nicknames is “Stormcrow”.



Re: For Dwimordene

“Lean, dark, tall: what’s not to like?

So true, Bronwen, so very true... ;-)

Thank you, Imhiriel! I like the choice of focus - the contrast of characteristic grimness ("He looks dangerous!") with laughter, and the reminder that Aragorn depends on a certain reserve of joy.




Re: May 2007 Birthdays

A very belated birthday present for RiverOtter...


She tried to forget the first time she'd seen Imrazôr, and the way he had smiled at her when he had held first their son and then their daughter in his arms for the first time. She loved him still, but to see the grey in his hair and the lines in his face broke her heart. It would not be long before they were parted forever, no more than perhaps fifty years. Too short, and then her children, elven-fair, but doomed to brief mortal lives, would be lost to her as well.
Silently, she slipped away into the night.



Re: For Dwimordene

“Lean, dark, tall: what’s not to like?

So true, Bronwen, so very true... ;-)

I was searching for a good description of Aragorn I could somehow use in the drabble. When I found these words in the letter, I nearly choked with laughter - it was so perfect.

Thank you, Imhiriel! I like the choice of focus - the contrast of characteristic grimness ("He looks dangerous!") with laughter, and the reminder that Aragorn depends on a certain reserve of joy.

Aragorn's "mirth" as something that might seem strange from outside perspectives was exactly what I wanted to depict, so I'm very happy that you liked exactly this!




Re: May 2007 Birthdays

I loved this, Nath - not often does one get to read something of Mithrellas - I think  being an Elf can sometimes be not a good thing!



Re: For Dwimordene

"What are you on about, Bronwen? You've a fine husband yourself, now – no need to go looking at raggedy vagabonds! He looked positively dangeous!"

Sounds like the ladies at work...albeit with a bit more archaic tones.  Good job on the characters, Imhiriel.



Re: For Dwimordene

Sounds like the ladies at work...albeit with a bit more archaic tones.

Doesn't it, though?

At first, I didn't even want to name the main character, to ease identification... But she insisted on the name.

Good job on the characters, Imhiriel.

Thank you very much!




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