Henneth Annûn Story Archive

Here’s the November Babies List so far:

November 8 - acacea: I'd love a drabble on an Aragorn Faramir conversation or a Faramir Gandalf post ring war conversation or a Faramir Eldarion conversation

November 11 — annmarwalk: I'd love something about either or both of Denethor's magnificent sons.

November 12 - Aeneid: My drabble preferences, in order, would be something Haradrim or Fourth Age. I think that's vague enough to cause inspiration. And if not that, then a completely AU Boromir (Liiiive! Liiiive!) as a fall-back

November 17 - Ithildin: Hail, O talented ones! I would enjoy something with Elves – Legolas, Thranduil, Celeborn, Galadriel, Elrond, twins, etc., etc.- whichever muse speaks loudest. ;) (no slash, please)

November 22 – Julia (jcd1013): I’d love a drabble that focuses on the interactions (friendships only please!) between the Fellowship--angsty or happy, with any combination of characters. I'm leaving it pretty general (I think?) and I hope that it inspires.

November 23 - Melina: I'm easy -- any of the following would be lovely: Boromir and Faramir, either growing up or as young men; Eomer and Theodred, either growing up or as young men; anything in the 4th age with any of the following -- Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir, Eowyn, Eomer, Lothiriel.

November 30 - Ranger1: Please any drabble on First or Second Age Elves. Have inspiration!

 

Hello, Julia, and welcome! The more the merrier! I have just the thing for you! Rummages around in the gift closet. No, not that one...Hmmm, maybe.....Aha! Second Breakfast One thing Boromir appreciated about Imladris was the food, abundant and varied. Arising late one morning, he followed the aroma of something extraordinary… “Lingonberries! In a bread with pumpkin, of all things! What is that spice, do you think? Nutmeg? Or allspice?” It was astounding how the smallest one could talk so much without breathing. “Those dwarves can eat, can’t they? And those men really tuck it away. We’d starve if not for second breakfast. Good thing none of them are around right now, more for us….” They had the grace to blush, and happily share what little was left. ***** Happy birthday! Ann

 

Ann and Aeneid, so glad you liked the drabble and that I got the reaction from Boromir right! Raksha - thanks for the quote from the Letters. I'm sure a sensible chap like Aragorn changed the rules somewhat post-War! Possibly after a conversation like this one? But I'm afraid I just couldn't pass up a chance for little brother to wind up a surviving Boromir by telling him he has to sit at home and twiddle his thumbs over the paperwork while everyone else gets to do the fun stuff. (I can see Aragorn having a lot of fun as well, taking a long time to tell Boromir he can tag along. *warily eyes up nuzgul for humour!fic and straps on mithril ankle guards*) Cheers, Liz

 

Right you are! The idea of Boromir stewing as he faces the dreaded foe of Paperwork while his peace-loving little brother goes off to fight enemies with the King and all the other captains is yummy. RAKSHA

 

"Second Breakfast One thing Boromir appreciated about Imladris was the food, abundant and varied. Arising late one morning, he followed the aroma of something extraordinary… “Lingonberries! In a bread with pumpkin, of all things! What is that spice, do you think? Nutmeg? Or allspice?” It was astounding how the smallest one could talk so much without breathing. “Those dwarves can eat, can’t they? And those men really tuck it away. We’d starve if not for second breakfast. Good thing none of them are around right now, more for us….” They had the grace to blush, and happily share what little was left." Ann, this is just too cute! I can just see big tough Boromir roaming the halls of Imladris, salivating as he smells all those yummy spices. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Julia! RAKSHA THE DEMON

 

November 30 - Ranger1: Please any drabble on First or Second Age Elves. Have inspiration!

 

Hullo, Ann-- I was so done with drabbles last night but then this came along this morning. 400 words containing both sons AND a kinder, gentler Denethor. (And I hope everyone can tell who is talking this time.) Not very cheerful, though. ;-p Happy Birthday, again. Branwyn Spring Planting "This is the new field where the pear trees will grow," the farmer said, raising an arm to point. Denethor followed his gesture -- the field was a barren, brown expanse, except in the middle. There, his younger son, head bowed intently, played in the freshly-turned earth. Something has captured his interest, Denethor thought. The child’s dark hair gleamed in the slanting rays of sunlight. Nearby, a raven hopped from furrow to furrow, head bent, hunting for worms. "It was hard work to break up the ground." The farmer shook his head. "The plough kept hitting pieces of armor. I saved them; would my lord like to take a look?" Boromir knew not to speak out of turn, but Denethor could hardly miss that longing, hopeful glance. "We could make time for that," he said with the slightest smile. His older son had stoically endured much talk about fences and fruit trees. "Faramir!" the steward shouted across the field. His son and the raven both turned their dark heads. "Coming, father!" The child was running even as he spoke; close against his breast, he held something clasped in both hands. "Father, look!" Faramir called as he ran. What has he found now? Denethor thought wryly. Often this son brought strange and wondrous gifts -- stiff hawk feathers, barred in black and gold, and soft, furry leaves, and pebble-skinned toads. Skidding to a halt, Faramir held out grimy hands to offer his father the new-found treasure. Gray eyes shining, he slowly unfolded his fingers. Denethor caught his breath sharply, but his voice when he spoke, though unsteady, was very gentle. "Here, let me see what you have brought me, son." I must not move quickly or shout -- if he is startled, he will clench his hand around it. Carefully, he lifted the arrowhead from Faramir's tiny palm. Rusted barbs twisted from the base, and though pitted with corrosion, the blade was still sharp. Forged in the armories of Mordor, it was a deadly piece of work. Faramir looked up at him eagerly, his empty hands held out, expecting a story or at least some explanation. Denethor saw his clear gray eyes and the missing tooth and the earth smudged on his nose. Bowing his head, the father thought, This dread will I know for each day until I die. He felt as if the arrow had been buried in his heart.

 

Oooh; what a lovely mega-drabble! That last paragraph is so chilling. The image of little Faramir, so young and innocent, shadowed by the arrow from Mordor and his father's dread, is haunting. RAKSHA

 

Oh, Branwyn! Oh, my! I can't begin to tell you how much I love this! Not cheerful, no, but that vision of Denethor - This dread will I know for each day until I die. He felt as if the arrow had been buried in his heart - was breathtaking. I loved the vision of a spring excursion for the Steward and his sons, out to the Home Farm, perhaps? And the detail of the raven - His son and the raven both turned their dark heads - marvelous! And Denethor's heart in his throat as Faramir brings him - what? What parent has not experienced a moment like that? Thank you, thank you, thank you. This is gorgeous. Ann

 

Result of burping DB

 

Also caused by burping db

 

Hullo, Ann-- Yes, I think my drabble crashed the site, LOL. I am so happy that you liked this, and your comments are very kind! I have a sneaking suspicion that you are a Denethor partisan, so when this popped into my head, it seemed appropriate. You know, I am still angry about how he was portrayed in the movie.... I have actually hunted for arrowheads. When I was a child, my father ran a project to reclaim (reforest--if that is a word) a strip mine out in the middle of nowhere. When he went to check on the tree nursery, he would take my brother and me with him. While he talked with the superintendent and looked at the saplings, we hunted for arrowheads in the plowed-up dirt. They were fairly plentiful and not too hard to spot since the earth had been turned. Looking back, that was a grim way to pass the time! It occurred to me that the Pelennor and the surrounding lands had been a battlefield for hundreds of years and would just be sown with arrowheads. Hence this drabble. :-) Regards Branwyn (feeling less cranky now)

 

Hey Ann, Here's Boromir in Rivendell - just before he takes his bath! *wink* Happy birthday and many happy returns! Imaldris He came to a place of roaring water, where the sun's pale rays turned the gathering mist to gold, and even the dew glimmered like drops of ambered wine on warm yellow leaves. There, the Steward's son drew a deep breath; and for the briefest of moments, his stern soldier's heart ceased its beating. Before him, glowing in the morning sun, stood the Last Homely House east of the Sea, a place he knew only in story and song. Smiling, Boromir stepped down the long narrow path that led to the house of Master Elrond, and so, to his destiny.

 

Oh, nrink, thank you! I've been thinking a lot about Boromir in Rivendell lately, and this fits in perfectly with what's been going on in my head. Your imagery, as always, is lovely: ...where the sun's pale rays turned the gathering mist to gold, and even the dew glimmered like drops of ambered wine on warm yellow leaves... I'm picturing golden aspens and birches and even goldfinches twittering in the trees.... Sigh. Wish I were there! I wish we all were. What a November babies party we could have! Ann

 

Ranger1 said Please any drabble on First or Second Age Elves. Have inspiration!" I'm afraid this got rather hijacked by my obsessions, but it is from the perspective of an Elf and definitely second age, so I hope it will suit. Happy, very early, birthday! Good welcome they found I remember the old sea-captain’s final visit, bringing his grandson. Like a young sapling the boy was: tall, golden haired, sure. A little of our blood runs in his veins, and desire for the sea was strong in him. He was eager for knowledge, too. I taught him what I knew: of the making of ships and their management, the building of strong havens, the planting of trees. Now refugees bring news of the loss of one Gift of Men, for their kin would deny the other. Perhaps I should not have shared my craft so eagerly with the boy. *** It happened on a time that Vëantur said to his grandson: "Anardilya, the spring is drawing nigh, and also the day of your full age" (for in that April Aldarion would be twenty-five years old). "I have in mind a way to mark it fittingly. My own years are far greater, and I do not think that I shall often again have the heart to leave my fair house and the blest shores of Númenor; but once more at least I would ride the Great Sea and face the North wind and the East. This year you shall come with me, and we will go to Mithlond and see the tall blue mountains of Middle-earth and the green land of the Eldar at their feet. Good welcome you will find from Círdan the Shipwright and from King Gil-galad. Speak of this to your father." "Aldarion and Erendis" Unfinished Tales Cheers, Liz

 

Well, it seems HASA went ker-plitz last night, so my drabble was ripped away from the boards. I'm not sure if these lost posts will be recovered, so I'll just go ahead and re-post it. Like I said, I could never possibly produce a drabble as stunning as Ann's birthday quadrabble for me, but here's my humble attempt.

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The Herbs of Ithilien He creeps. Grass bending, roots shifting. Dirt. The small of his back aches with the crouched position he has been holding for hours. The sweat – trickling slowly down his brow – over every crease and line and scar – tainting the eyebrow and into the eye, salty, like a tear returning. He blinks. Peering through the branches. The Enemy stirs. Movement to his left. Mablung’s voice, tense: “Still, Captain. Still.” He goes rigid. Every muscle taut. Waiting. Danger. The trained heart skips. The dark-haired Ranger bends forward, right beside his boot. A knife slicing through something. And then Mablung straightens, smiles. “Thyme.”

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Happy (early) birthday! Aeneid

 

...and my reply was lost too, but I'm sure I told you how just the title sent my senses reeling; and how much I loved the lines: The sweat – trickling slowly down his brow – over every crease and line and scar – tainting the eyebrow and into the eye, salty, like a tear returning. and then maybe said something about Sam and Frodo not being the first to feast at that spot on herbs and stewed rabbit; and I probably finished up by saying how wonderful you are, and everyone else who has written for my birthday, and that this already one of my most memorable birthdays ever! and it hasn't even happened yet. Ann

 

Hey Ann! Very pleased you like it! The drabble kind of wrote itself. Yes, I wish we were all there. I keep having visions of PJ's and Alan Lee's Rivendell in my head. *Sigh* cheers, nrink

 

Ranger1: Please any drabble on First or Second Age Elves. Have inspiration! Do the elves call Sauron Sauron? Dark One? And when did Glorfindel get back from being dead? I don't know, I'm no elf expert, but hopefully you can enjoy the drabble nonetheless.

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The End of the Siege Orodruin rumbles. Gil-galad swallows back the filth of this place. A motion to the right – Thranduil, Amdír, Glorfindel, Elrond – the graceful, the agile – sweeping over them with his gaze. Move the flank forward, he silently commands. A glance to his left – Elendil, Isildur, Anárion, Meneldil – the limping, the coarse – the men are aging. Gil-galad suddenly wonders if all the men shall die before this siege has ended, forcing the elves to fight on alone. Movement. A drone. The lines shift as men fidget. The Enemy – hissing, cackling, howling – a war cry goes up. And Gil-galad knows: Today Sauron has come.

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Happy (early) birthday! Aeneid

 

Happy Birthday, Acacea! A big hug, Starlight King and Steward The scroll unfolds before them and they soar, at a glance, over Gondor. “Black is for settlements,” the younger man says, placing his finger gently on Dol Amroth, Minas Tirith, Pelargir. “Red for regions.” He points at Belfalas, Ithilien… “Blue is for military sites; green for landmarks,” and his voice fades when he points at a scribbled Rauros. A hand squeezes his shoulder. “This is your realm, lord. Well-” A tinge of embarrassment, “You know all this already.” The King smiles. “You shall be a good Steward, Faramir.” Faramir’s eyes widen. “What, did you think I would not keep you?”

 

Hail, O talented ones! My birthday is November 17th, and if it’s not too late to ask, I would enjoy something with Elves – Legolas, Thranduil, Celeborn, Galadriel, Elrond, twins, etc., etc.- whichever muse speaks loudest. ;) (no slash, please) I’ve been reading through these threads (it took a while!) and there are some real gems in here. It looks like fun, too. Thanks! Ithildin *(

 

Acacea: I am on the world's slowest computer in a hotel lobby in Oakdale Califonia on a family vacation, but I finished this and I wanted you to have it sort of on your birthday. It IS still your birthday in this time zone! I hope it was a happy one! Do you think they assumed that when they named him? Searching remembered refuges, Faramir found the prince in the third place he looked. The stoney niche concealed a huddle of boy, skinny arms clutching overlong legs. "I am Man, not peredhel, and yet..." The quavery voice was a child's treble still. He looked away. "My father came early to manhood." Faramir smothered a grin. There was promise of breadth in the slim shoulders; strength in the graceful, clever hands; wisdom behind the reddened, puffy eyes. This Son of the Elves, maturing slowly. "It is five years still 'till you are twenty, Eldarion. There is time enough," Faramir assured him. Happy Birthday! Gwynnyd

 

Hi Starlight! That was a lovely drabble, thank you so much! Just perfect... I love the way you depict Faramir

 

Very nice and cute Gwynnyd, I can certainly imagine that scene And I thought the title particularly nice too thanks!

 

<<>> Awwwww. Image of Faramir as a stray puppy. Or at least thinking of himself as an unwanted reminder of Denethor's regime. I love Aragorn's gentle teasing... And if I haven't yet said so, Happy Birthday, Acacea! RAKSHA

 

 

"Do you think they assumed that when they named him? Searching remembered refuges, Faramir found the prince in the third place he looked. The stoney niche concealed a huddle of boy, skinny arms clutching overlong legs. "I am Man, not peredhel, and yet..." The quavery voice was a child's treble still. He looked away. "My father came early to manhood." Faramir smothered a grin. There was promise of breadth in the slim shoulders; strength in the graceful, clever hands; wisdom behind the reddened, puffy eyes. This Son of the Elves, maturing slowly. "It is five years still 'till you are twenty, Eldarion. There is time enough," Faramir assured him." Oooh, nice drabble, Gwynnyd! Though my birthday is past, I'm just licking up all these yummy Faramir drabbles like a cat going for cream. This is a new and original theme; how unusual and different young Eldarion must have felt as a teenager. I think Faramir would have been a kindly uncle-figure to him; especially since Arwen's brothers didn't live in Gondor. I really like the word-picture of Eldarion. RAKSHA

 

For Julia, Happy Birthday, from Ranger1 An Incident near Rivendell “Beware, you cannot trust this one,” Said Gimli. Boromir, tired, sweating, unused to defeat, eyed his newest foe. “I said I would do this, and I shall!” He advanced with the determination that served him so well. The Ranger moved behind the Man ready to assist if required. The Elf stood aside as requested, but focused on the opponent. The Wizard watched intently. Then Boromir advanced warily, watched for an opening, then pounced. Bill the Pony, reveling in freedom, dodged him again and pranced away. From beneath a shivering pile of blankets came something that sounded like suppressed Hobbit laughter.

 

annmarwalk: an AU look at what the sons might have become. Necessary Stratagem Faramir smiled at the success of his strategy. His forces located and surrounded his quarry. He stepped forward and the noose tightened. It was too much to expect them to give in. Boromir’s scars flamed red as they did whenever he was angry, and even in his Ranger garb the King still looked every inch the offended sovereign. “Captain-General, was it necessary to use the entire army to find us?” “Your Highness, Lord Steward, if you must take time off, please inform Queen Arwen first. Eowyn is guarding her doors to keep her from searching herself.” Both men looked worried. Ranger1

 

LOL That's great, Ranger 1. I can just see Aragorn being rather worried about facing Arwen after this.. Cheryl

 

Too cool! Thanks, Ranger1 ! even in his Ranger garb the King still looked every inch the offended sovereign.. I can just picture it! Thanks so much - I'll even happily share this with my evil twin, Aeneid, who is so into AU/Boromir Lives! Ann Remembering twins who were born on both sides of midnight, therefore having different birthdates - so it's not impossible, just improbable.

 

November 23 - Melina I'm easy -- any of the following would be lovely: Boromir and Faramir, either growing up or as young men; Eomer and Theodred, either growing up or as young men; anything in the 4th age with any of the following -- Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir, Eowyn, Eomer, Lothiriel.

 

It's early and it isn't a drabble - and it's also sort of wafty and weird - and it can be found here: Voices

 

Oh, Avon, this is marvelous! So true to life for us, and true for the characters as well! I've seen this in my own children: encouraging and inspiring each other. Teasing, cajoling, and daring each other to new heights of mischief; consoling each other in disappointment or pain. You've drawn such of lovely picture of those dear brothers doing the same. When I am weary beyond exhaustion his voice offers caresses: baby names and endearments that he used when I was a small child and our mother was gone. In memory I feel his arms around me once more, and feel the hot tears he pressed against my neck even as he soothed me. That is, in fact, one of my very favorite aspects of Boromir' s character: his unconditional love and support for Faramir. True, there may have been tutors, nurserymaids, the occasional visit of their devoted uncle Imrahil, but IMHO, it was Boromir who made of his brother the man we know and love. Imagine him smiling through so many hours of poetry and music, to please Faramir I could go on in this vein for hours! The ending is perfect , with Boromir sending his brother back , knowing that his time was not yet over. Gorgeous! Ann

 

Julia (jcd1013) said I’d love a drabble that focuses on the interactions (friendships only please!) between the Fellowship--angsty or happy, with any combination of characters. So many moments to choose from! But this was inspired by one of those throwaway lines that speaks volumes to me of the friendships amongst the Fellowship. The look of a hobbit's foot He did not appear even when mess tents were set up. “Find him, my friends,” the king begged. The healers had no report of him, so they took their grim search to the battlefield. Suddenly, the dwarf gave a cry. “Hai! A hobbit’s foot!” They heaved away the troll’s carcass. “Aieee! Our long pursuit is proved vain at last.” Gimli bowed his head. Legolas touched his hand to Pippin’s curls. “Nay, friend, he lives, if barely.” He gathered Pippin up. “Come, let us take him with all haste to the king. Here is one he will wish to heal himself.” Happy birthday, Julia! Cheers, Liz

 

Happy birthday, Ann! A wee bit early, but still... This was written in exactly five minutes - from 11:55 P.M to 12:00 P.M, in a hallucinatory and delusional state caused by lots of homework and a lack of dinner. And thinking about the Eye of Sauron while you're doing a project isn't good for you... Make of it what you will.

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In the dark, still calm of the night, Faramir dreamt of eyes. Sometimes they were evil, yellowed and malevolent eyes that watched keenly his every move. Sometimes they were unseen, staring furtive, the eyes of a cat, the eyes of a spy. But sometimes – ah, sometimes they were grey, grey and haunted, the eyes of his father Denethor. Eyes that commanded and dismissed and approved without words. Faramir saw them in his sleep – and it was in dreams that he mourned his father. But when he woke, he did not remember the eyes– for they were only dream-eyes, after all.

 

This is for Ranger1 and Ithildin (whose post seems to have gotten lost - verily, I only spotted it by turning my head and narrowing my eyes ) Ithildin asked for Elves. I'm afraid I'm no good at writing 'em, as the only one that inspires me is Feanor - so, I'm giving you Feanor and Nerdanel. Do you mind? And this sort-of satisfies Ranger1's 'First or Second Age' requirement, being in fact pre-First Age (Time of the Trees).

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Nerdanel runs. Pounding heart, shallow quick-breathing, almost flying down the street, hair whipping out behind her. Fëanàro has sent word, and Nerdanel has come as fast as it is in her power to come. She reaches Fëanàro’s forge then; she pushes through the crowd impatiently - if there is one thing she has learnt from her husband, it is the virtue of hastiness. Sometimes, a calm temper and unhurried manner do not pay. She reaches the front of the crowd and sees her husband standing in the archway - tired, grimy, exultant - with brilliant light streaming from his hands.

---

Hope both of you enjoy your birthdays.

 

Thank you Noldo! What an incredible moment that must have been, when Fëanor first revealed the Silmarilli – I can just imagine the awed expressions on the faces of the onlookers. I love the image of Nerdanel “flying down the street, hair whipping out behind her.” She knew that if her husband asked her to come quickly, he wasn’t kidding! And the picture of Fëanor is wonderful – “tired, grimy, exultant - with brilliant light streaming from his hands.” Wow! Thank you again, Ithildin *( *who is enjoying her birthday already!*

 

sees her husband standing in the archway - tired, grimy, exultant Oh, it is brilliant! *claps* Have I ever mentioned that I love Fëanor?

 

Wow, Noldo! That was fantastic! That drabble seriously might have just inspired my muses to get moving on my staggering Nerdanel/Feanor piece! ~Allie

 

Happy birthday, Ithildin! I give you my first-ever birthday drabble. Our drabble today features... Celeborn and Galadriel. To Let Go Three days after Dol Guldur, he glimpsed her star-touched golden hair atop their talan. Clad in white, she sat there like a lost child, stroking powerless Nenya. “It is gone,” she whispered faintly. “Lórien will fall to ruin. It will perish under the light of this dying world, memories fading to nothing.” The proud golden head fell. With every moment he could hear the cry of her tattered fëa, resisting the Sea’s call. In her eyes, heartache he could not heal. Would he restrain her? Deny her serenity? No, he could not… Glenno annûn, hiril vain nín. Hiro hîdh. ------------- Glenno annûn, hiril vain nín. Hiro hîdh. Go west, my beautiful lady. May you find peace. *snicker* Do you recognize the elvish? When I posted the question in the Languages forum, I had a feeling that you might end up responding... ~Allie

 

Happy birthday, Acacea: "a drabble on an Aragorn Faramir conversation". Time Past A king and his steward have much to talk about. Taxes and tariffs; placating the guilds and playing the council; restoring a city and a kingdom (or two). Present matters, future hopes. Now and again, they find the time to talk of other things. And sometimes, when the business of the day is done, they talk about the past. He tells him of Ecthelion, a wise lord who welcomed him and loved his servant like his son. He tells him of Denethor, subtle and valiant and brilliant. He tells him of Finduilas, dancing, with white flowers braided in her hair.

 

I really liked this, Altariel. You have such an ability to turn even the simpler moments into masterpieces. Thank you! I know Acacea will just love it. Starlight

 

Oh, this is wonderful, Noldo! I love the contrast of the dreamcat's eyes, evil, yellowed, and malevolent - Faramir's memories of his father's contempt and anger, perhaps? - with the grey and haunted eyes that commanded and dismissed and approved without words. The two sides of Faramir's relationship with his father. Thank you so much!

 

“What, did you think I would not keep you?” Starlight, this was just wonderful! I love the image of Aragorn reassuring his young steward of his place in the new scheme. You painted a vivid word picture! Cheers, Vistula ~ who is finally catching up on her drabble reading!

 

"It is five years still 'till you are twenty, Eldarion. There is time enough," Faramir assured him. Thank you Gwynnyd! I love the idea of Faramir as a loving uncle/confidant figure toward Eldarion. I'm sure he'd know all of the hiding places that a sensitive young boy would use, having been one himself. This is just such a wonderful picture of the two. Cheers! Vistula

 

I am just loving all these brilliant drabbles on Faramir, also on Pippin and Galadriel/Celeborn, Feanor/Nerdanel. But the past month has given me a bonanza of yummy Faramir drabbles! "Voices" - a new and lovely twist on the HoH/healing of Faramir theme! The drabble about Faramir's dreaming of eyes - sad and a bit scary. "Times Past" - oh, wonderful. I could just see Faramir sitting there, rapt, as Aragorn tells of his own memories of Faramir's grandfather and parents. RAKSHA the Happy Demon

 

From beneath a shivering pile of blankets came something that sounded like suppressed Hobbit laughter. LOL! I can so picture this happening to Boromir!! Countless Orcs or human enemies he can handle, but let him face one wayward pony... I love the last line... Cheers! Vistula

 

Thank you, ~Allie! LOL, you are right, I did a double take on the elvish – what fun! I had no idea! I’m honored to be the recipient of your first-ever birthday drabble, and I like it very much indeed! I imagine it was very difficult for Galadriel to feel the fading of her Ring and then the years and the losses and the longing all came crashing down on her and there was no longer any power to hold them back. No wonder she sailed. Ai, and Celeborn was just not ready to leave yet. I’m glad to know he finally did join her across the Sea. A very emotional moment, there, and I think you captured it well. Thanks again, Ithildin *(

 

I just couldn't help it when you said Celeborn and Galadriel. Had to write something there (favorite elven couple and all)... Glad you enjoyed it! Allie

 

Dear all, We're nearly at 50 posts. You're cordially invited to continue posting at the new thread - November Babies Continued - Part 3. cheers nrink

 

To keep from cluttering the thread - all my (chuffed) responses in one post. Ithildin - The image of Feanor with his Silmarils has been bothering me for a month. I'm pleased that I finally found somewhere to put it, and I'm glad you enjoyed it. The picture of Feanor came off well? That's good to know. He's my favourite character ever, and it's always fun writing him. Arandil - Why, thank you. Feanor -is- wonderful, isn't he? Meril - Thanks! I'm glad you liked it. I encourage you to write that Nerdanel/Feanor piece. Therecan't be too much (good) Nerdanel/Feanor, in my humble opinion. Ann - I happen to be a sucker for all things Denethor, and couldn't help but include a reference to a lighter side of this family relationship in this drabble. I hope you enjoyed your birthday, and had better stop before I get all fangirly over either Feanor or a certain Steward... Raksha - Sad and scary? I'm pleased. That was what I was aiming for, rather.

 

I had to thank you again This was such a beautifully written piece!

 

I had to thank you again This was such a beautifully written piece!

 

November 17 - Ithildin: Hail, O talented ones! I would enjoy something with Elves – Legolas, Thranduil, Celeborn, Galadriel, Elrond, twins, etc., etc.- whichever muse speaks loudest. ;) (no slash, please) November 30 - Ranger1: Please any drabble on First or Second Age Elves. Have inspiration! I know it's late - but RL has been keeping me from following this forum. And your two requests combined with an ever-growing nuzgul to write Celeborn's thoughts when Galadriel accepts the Ring. I just hope this is defanging the beast and not just a warm-up. Three for the Elven-lords ***** "Tis a thing of beauty, is it not?" Galadriel ran her finger over the blue gem. "It is," I said slowly. "But I have seen other things that appeared beautiful -- at first." She saw the Two Trees in all their glory. The light her kinsman had captured in his jewels. The jewels that drove my kinsmen to death. But I had seen other trees - of Middle-earth, not as glorious, perhaps, but as beautiful as those in Aman. Didn't she understand? She would accept Celebrimbor's gift? Very well; naught good would come of it, but I would stand beside her.

 

Marta, what a peasant surprise! Thank you so much! My birthday seems like the Energizer Bunny – it just keeps going, and going... LOL! Ai, it must have been difficult for Celeborn to watch his lady take that ring. He had to know it was a two-edged sword, so to speak; and, yet, he would stand with her till the bitter end. Very poignant moment there; and one I had not thought on deeply before. And, yes, I can certainly understand how RL can keep you away, I’ve been quite busy myself of late. Thank you again for posting this and for letting me know it was here, it is much appreciated! Ithildin *(

 

Marta, what a peasant surprise! Thank you so much! My birthday seems like the Energizer Bunny – it just keeps going, and going... LOL! I'm glad I was able to stretch it out just a little longer, then... err, a good bit longer! ;-) I suppose we should just think of it as a Christmas present for you. Ai, it must have been difficult for Celeborn to watch his lady take that ring. He had to know it was a two-edged sword, so to speak; and, yet, he would stand with her till the bitter end. Very poignant moment there; and one I had not thought on deeply before. Well, he had seen what jewels could do; like I tried to hint at above, it was the silmaril that got Thingol killed. Not to mention all the yucky wars that came out of trying to recapture them and everything else. And here his wife decides to sport a new piece of jewellery herself... Add to that the curse of the Noldor. Nothing they did in Middle-earth ever really worked out. And rings of power and such seem to be a particularly Noldish (new word!) thing. I can see Celeborn, who in my mind is a Sinda's Sinda, being a bit uncomfortable with the idea. I had a nuzgul to write this moment in a vignette. But now all this thought of treasure has me thinking about Moria. How would Celeborn react to the fall of Moria and the coming of the balrog - and would he feel a bit hypocritical for getting upset at treasure-hunting jewels, knowing he had long harbored his own treasure, especially as he knew that treasure was tied to Sauron? Tricksy, tricksy Ithildin! I have never felt a need to write pre-Ring War (or certainly pre-Hobbit) before this particular nuzgul! And, yes, I can certainly understand how RL can keep you away, I’ve been quite busy myself of late. Thank you again for posting this and for letting me know it was here, it is much appreciated! I'm glad you can enjoy it. As Eomer said, "Better late than never." Marta

 

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