Henneth Annûn Story Archive

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

If you have questions, please ask.

I will be out of town January 31 through February 5, so any birthday requests submitted while I am away won't be processed until I return.

Gandalfs apprentice

*************************

 

I'm not a birthday person, but I do have a request.

'Tis the season when all the happy, heart-y, pink-and-red, sugar-coated decor comes out, and the thematic message seems to be: "If you love that special one, buy our stuff for him or her! Because your devotion in time of need and good company just don't say "I love you" like jewelry or this cheap tin of chocolate."

I really really hate Valentine's Day, but I can't seem to escape it. It's everywhere.

So for the sake of my sanity, may I request drabbles that are either bitterly depressing or else show a non-commercialized/non-sanitized romantic moment? Please?

Thank you.

Dwim

 

Happy to oblige!

 ~MerryK

Let the Flames Devour 

Before him were the letters, missives of love and adoration and promises to be there always. They were being destroyed. One by one, he would take each piece of parchment in his hand, and with smooth movements he would rip it in half, in quarters, in eighths. The fire would then claim them, the flames rising up greedily to gulp down the words of Finduilas. She had died of grief and he had never been told, never warned, but only left to believe that all was well. To heal his shattered heart, Denethor could no longer be reminded of joy.

 

Wow, you certainly achieved your goal. That was very bitter and depressing - and utterly brilliant. 

Well done!

Jay

 

Thank you! I'm especially grateful as that was my first drabble.

~MerryK (who's always ready to defy conventional commercialism)

 

Ah, depression and Denethor--two things guaranteed to burn a hole straight through the horrible pink sappiness. Denethor does seem to gravitate towards pyres, of one kind or another, when bereft, and certainly Finduilas' death seems to have been a decisive moment in the making of the man we see in RoTK.

Thanks, MerryK!

Dwim

P.S. Is anybody else getting e-mail notifications on MerryK's e-mails that are just blank?

 

Denethor does seem to gravitate towards pyres, of one kind or another, when bereft

Oh no! I fell into the Denethor/fire fanon without even knowing it! Glad I could make sappiness vanish for you...I actually started a Faramir-and-Eowyn-spat drabble, but I couldn't have it end depressing.

~MerryK 

 

DONE

What Love Demands

“You do understand what this means?” he said harshly. “You will be dead, dead to hope, dead to earth, dead to all you love, you will loose light, air, and water, your body will decay, your soul will vanish, and you will be forgotten. For all this, your time of joy will be brief, and your darkness unknown. Do you wish this Doom?”

She stood before him proud and unabashed. “Yes, with all my heart.”

“Then: So Be It.” Mandos said

Then Luthien took Beren by the hand and led him away from Valinor as though it no longer existed.

Ranger1

 

That was amazing, Ranger1!

~MerryK

 

I'm inclined to want to turn this into a Quickie challenge for the month, with its own place in the Challenge menu. "The Anti-Valentine's Day Challenge." Any other takers?

G.A.

 

Click below if you'd like to contribute to the Grinch-y assault on Valentine's Day frills and furbelows:

The Anti-Valentine's Day Quickie.

G.A.

PS: Yes, it's deliberate.

 

Thanks, G.A.! I actually proposed a similar on-list challenge at the Yahoo group [Henneth_Annun] the other day, and I'll point people to this challenge.

 

That was amazing, Ranger1!

~MerryK

Thank you. I have a longer story brewing. Nuzguls mate in mid air when flung.

Ranger1

 

Hey, Ranger1, don't forget to enter your story in the Anti-Valentine's Day Quickie!

G.A.

 

Ranger1 and Merry - I loved your drabbles, and envy, as usual, your ability to pack such a wallop in 100 words.  Well done, and both so different.  I'm always a sucker for obsessively smouldering Denethor, Merry.  And I love the triumph of love over even death, Ranger1.

This was supposed to be a drabble, but it grew legs and became 600 words of Eowyn angst.  (please bear in mind that I know very little about medieval/renaissance dance, not even the proper vocabulary)

Measures of Time

Éowyn can no longer dance as lightly as the lady who now twirls in Faramir's arms. Her legs, though strong enough to ride, hurt when she kicks high and fast.  She watches Faramir hungrily, angrily. How dare he still move so well! He has always been a joy to dance with, easily the best in Gondor, gliding, or stepping across the floor with the grace of an Elf, better than even the King or Imrahil.  Éowyn's feet tap the floor. This dance is too fast for her, but not for Faramir and the slender young woman whose hair, untouched by gray, shines as golden as hers once did.

Éowyn does not betray her unrest. Age creeps up on her; and she refuses to give any sign how its victories, still occasional, pain her. She sits straight-backed in her green and silver gown and smiles coolly. No one must guess that a sudden jealousy of her own daughter has speared the Princess of Ithilien. It is an ugly thing, to resent one's child for being young and fair and dancing with her own father.

Faramir and Cynwen move so quickly and perfectly in the dance.

Mercifully, the dance ends. Partners separate. Eldarion approaches Éowyn's daughter and takes her from Faramir, who returns to Éowyn. His eyes, bright and keen and missing nothing, sweep over her.

"Have you saved a dance for me?" He asks, as if she still drew all men's eyes. "I hope I have come before Legolas could ask you."

Is he cozening her? She could snap at him, bid him dance with one of Eldarion's pretty young sisters. But she truly does want to dance with Faramir. She would have tread a measure already if she had not come late, feeling ill and tired earlier, to the Hall.

"Is there no other you would choose, my lord?" Éowyn hears herself ask. Her voice sounds thin and querulous to her, and she wishes she could take back the years.

Faramir flicks one of his sword-like glances at her, too fast to interpret. Then he holds out his hand and lifts his chin, a challenge visible in his eyes.

"There is none who can match you, my lady" Faramir says firmly, brooking no opposition.

He has never lied to her. Éowyn rises and takes her lord's hand. The music swells up, drums strike a stern, proud rhythm beneath the trilling viols. Faramir smiles, the way a man always does in the company of a woman he admires, the way he has for all the years since she accepted his suit. An answering pride flushes her own cheeks. If she is no longer the fairest woman in Ithilien, she is still its Princess, and the Witch-King's Slayer, and she will let no one forget it this night.

They step into the dance. Some heads turn - young Alphor's wife never misses a chance to flirt with Faramir. But Faramir seems not to notice. His eyes are on Éowyn alone, his warm hands strong about hers. And there is Elfric, Éomer's envoy and Elfhelm's heir, gawking at her in the same warm manner as his father sometimes did, when they all were young. It is rather good to see that she can yet catch a young man's eye.

Éowyn nods politely at the Rider, then smiles in heartfelt joy into Faramir's bright eyes. The dance is a pavane, slower but not tedious, with a certain briskness. Éowyn feels blood, rather than ice, course through her veins. Faramir will not need to slow his pace on her account. And for now, that is enough.

 

Warning: Valentine's Day in the M-e closet.

Gandalfs apprentice

Secrets

In triumph Gimli held up the sparkling vial for his friends to see. In the torchlight of the Glittering Caves, the golden tresses in their crystal embrace radiated like living beings. 

"It's beautiful, Gimli," breathed Sam. "I never would of thought you could make anything good enough. The Lady of Lórien was so lovely! Not even Rosie could match her."

Cupping the crystal in reverent hands, Gimli thought of the Elf who had inspired his masterpiece. He raised his eyes and winked at Legolas, who stood in silent, elegant nonchalance, his face carefully aloof. 

The golden hair was not Galadriel's.

 

 

Hi Dwim!

Well, since you're not a birthday person, and yours is not a traditional request, then I hope you'll forgive me for posting something that's not new and not a drabble...

It's the first line of my novel about the tragic ending of a first love:

Chance Meeting

Legolas wheeled — shocked that in this Valar-forsaken dark catacomb he abruptly faced his one true love, his mad, impetuous folly of youthful optimism, his forbidden desire, his desperately-kept dark secret, his contemptibly-abandoned lover — and then nocked his arrow and steeled himself to conclude the final bitter parting with the justifiably-enraged spurned female, all in the eternity of the few split seconds following Boromir's words: "They have a cave troll".


- Barbara, sorely disappointed that no publisher has yet chosen to accept the story idea....

 

Mrrp.  Snork.  And other appreciative noises, Barbara!   I can't think why the publishers aren't snapping this one up!   There'd be no spurned female like a cave troll, I imagine!

RAKSHA

 

This is great, Raksha.... so hideous the difference in the way their bodies age...

 

Thanx, Agape.

Actually, at this point I think Eowyn would look very attractive still, like a 40 or 50-year-old when (in my chronology) she's close to 60.  But she's feeling the beginning of old age, and for a woman used to admiration and intense physical activity, having to slow down and cut back would be difficult, particularly when Faramir is still physically strong.  She and Faramir might well have some hard adjustments to make, and perhaps some rough times ahead...

RAKSHA

 

So for the sake of my sanity, may I request drabbles that are either bitterly depressing or else show a non-commercialized/non-sanitized romantic moment? Please?

I aim to please when I can. A non-commercial, non-sanitized romantic moment can be found here:

Aftermaths and Consequences

Gwynnyd

 

Very well done, Gwynnyd, and original.  Calendes and Borion are both strong individuals, and survivors; I think they make a good match.

RAKSHA

 

SPRING BREAK! SPRING BREAK! SPRING BREAK! WOO WOOO WOOOOO!!
*smacks into wall in excitement*

Ow.

But hey, it's Spring Break, and having wisely made midterms due after that, I can catch up on the stories here.

I really liked this one, Ranger1. The holding off on naming names 'til the last two lines is very effective. And that last line--oh yeah! Thank you!

Dwim

 

This was supposed to be a drabble, but it grew legs and became 600 words of Eowyn angst. (please bear in mind that I know very little about medieval/renaissance dance, not even the proper vocabulary

I don't know anything about medieval or renaissance or modern dance, either, but it's not needed for the story. I like Eowyn rising to the challenge, spurred on by Faramir and the sincerity of his conviction that she is peerless. Also, it's amusing to see Eowyn get a little bit of a boost with the recognition she can still get a rise out of some of the younger men.

Thanks!

Dwim

 

The golden hair was not Galadriel's.

Perfect last line, G.A.! Juxtaposing it with Legolas standing nearby, seeming to be totally oblivious to that wink and aloof in the presence of his beloved gave it the punch it deserves.

Thank you!

Dwim

 

It's the first line of my novel about the tragic ending of a first love:

*splorfle!*

Ok, that *had* to come from the Dark and Stormy Night challenge. How did I miss it the first time around? Nevermind! I am glad to be reminded of it--this was hysterical. Excellent use of one of my favorite Boromir lines (the tone of sheer exasperation is what does it for me--like, ok, fine, it's a sucky day in Middle-earth, so *of course* they have a cave troll!).

Thank you!

Dwim

 

I aim to please when I can.

And you hit the target right square in the middle. Or round in the middle. Whichever you prefer...

A non-commercial

Well, I wouldn't *quite* say it was totally non-commercial. Commerce did occur, after all. ;-)

But I liked this--the upstairs-downstairs romance, the humbling of pride but not of determination, and the lack of illusions all fit together well. And yet I think they might make a life of it despite the somewhat less than optimal start.

Thanks, Gwynnyd!

Dwim

 

Mrrp. Snork. And other appreciative noises, Barbara!

*Basks in the lovely sounds of shock and awe. Or shock, anyway.*

I can't think why the publishers aren't snapping this one up!

It's a scandal, I tell ya!

Thanks for the kind(?) words, Raksha!

- Barbara

 

*splorfle!*

YES! *punches air* It caused a splorfle! My work here is done! *happy dance*

Ok, that *had* to come from the Dark and Stormy Night challenge. How did I miss it the first time around? Nevermind!

Yes, indeed! and if I could figure out how to link to challenges properly, I'd have put a link.... *snerk*

I am glad to be reminded of it--this was hysterical.

Thank you, Dwim! *beams* And thank you for the incredibly inspirational unbirthday prompt!

Excellent use of one of my favorite Boromir lines (the tone of sheer exasperation is what does it for me--like, ok, fine, it's a sucky day in Middle-earth, so *of course* they have a cave troll!).

Some of the lines in the movie were hits, and some were misses... and that one was a out-of-the-ballpark, grand slam home run, mostly due to the Sean Bean's delivery! I loved it!

- Barbara

 

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