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zhieThings were going SO WELL with this one... so great and a little nervous but a lot fluffy and then... A frickin' uninvited guest shows up. bloody hell.
I will have to twist this one to get it back on the fluff path tomrrow, but i'm beat now... but here's where i'm at so far...
oh, the prompt is 'SPORT' btw
“Have you ever seen a horse more magnificent than his?” asked Elrond of Glorfindel as Erestor rode onto the field to the cheering of many in the audience. Celebrian elbowed her husband gently from her spot on his other side and Elrond amended his comment to include, “Besides Asfaloth, of course.”
“Hmm? Oh... of course.” Glorfindel leaned forward on the rail of the high, shaded dais that served as the place for the family and others of importance to watch the activities on the sporting field. Today’s event was a competition of horse skills and less of a race. Usually Erestor did well, but he excelled in racing, especially chariot races. This was a one horse, one rider competition that had over thirty of varying degrees of experience against one another.
Many of the events were tests of individual skill, but there was a joust, and that always had Glorfindel on edge. Out on the field, Erestor seemed rather relaxed as he waited for the rest of the riders to be announced and to line the field. Morir stood still as he was trained to, barely flinching when flies came near or when Erestor flicked them away with his crop.
“Care to make a wager?” asked Elladan of his younger brother. Elrohir shrugged. “I bet you three silvers that Erestor wins the rings.”
“You do not have three silvers,” said Elrohir, who was more occupied with watching the prettily dressed maidens who would keep the scores at the far end of the field for those in the audience to see.
Elladan turned around and looked at his father. “Ada, may I borrow three silver pieces?”
“Ask your mother,” Elrond answered promptly.
“Nana-“ began Elladan.
Stilling her fan for a moment, Celebrian shook her head. “Absolutely not. I will not have you gambling with your brother, or anyone else for that matter. Besides, you say ‘borrow’ when you mean ‘have’.” She continued in vain to try to keep herself cool in the heat.
With a huff, Elladan went back to watching those on the field.
“Elladan.”
The elder twin looked over upon hearing his name, and caught the coin that had been flipped through the air at him. “Whooa, a gold piece!” he exclaimed, turning it over in his hand. Elladan smirked at his brother, and Elrohir pouted a little.
From his spot leaning against the railing, Glorfindel laughed and took another from his pocket. “Catch, Elrohir.” When each of the twins had in their hands a gleaming piece of gold, Glorfindel said, “Now, what I would do is stop your silly talk of betting and invest your money in wiser pursuits. Perhaps at one of the vendors on the grounds or to treat one of those lovely ladies the two of your have had your eyes on all morning,” suggested the blond elf.
“Thank you, Uncle Fin!” Elladan raced behind his parents to the stairs that would take him back to the general grounds of the event.
Elrohir walked to his parents and asked, “May El and I be excused until the race begins?” Elrond nodded unemotionally, and Elrohir smiled, then turned and said, “Thanks, Uncle Fin!” before following after his brother.
“Glorfindel, you really need not spoil them like that,” said Celebrian.
“You are only young once,” he replied. “They will be responsible adults sooner than you wish it; let them enjoy this time they have now.”
Looking back to the field, Glorfindel noticed that the majority of the riders were assembled. This was obviously realized by Erestor as well, for the dark ellon was stretching his arms above his head and rolling the kinks from his neck. Glorfindel disliked seeing Erestor in this manner as much as he enjoyed it. On one hand, he took great pride in the fact that he had been the one to teach the elf so many long years ago how to ride a horse. On the other, beyond those happy days in Gondolin, the most vivid memories that Glorfindel had of Erestor on a horse involved the fall of their beloved city and the great war that had only just ended not more than a few hundred years earlier.
Erestor’s posture was one that reminded Glorfindel of someone going into battle. He was alert, but not too stiff. The leather of his gear had been painstakingly polished to a shine, and the metal gleaned in the sunlight. Silver, black, and brilliant blue. Morir and Erestor looked fearsome together, each of them with their own stern look, each of them dark and mysterious. Erestor bent his head to whisper to the horse, and Morir gave a snort of determination.
Tightening his gloves and checking the lacings of his boots, Erestor took a slow breath in, held it, and let it slowly out. Erestor closed his eyes as the master of the event spoke the rules that he could likely recite in his sleep and folded his hands together before him. Bowing his head, his lips moved as he quietly spoke a prayer unheard by anyone, and unseen by most.
At the balcony overlooking the competition, Glorfindel saw it. His gaze staggered to the others for a moment, but fell back upon Erestor. In that small, simple act of supplication, Glorfindel saw courage greater than that of the other participants combined. He saw some of the others, others on their horses and squires and pages as well, pointing and snickering as Erestor paid them no mind and continued his prayer.
Before he had even realized what it was that he was doing, Glorfindel found his fingers interlaced with each other as he leaned on the railing with his elbows. His words were sincere, and he cared not who was watching or listening. “Dear Eru, please bless Erestor and keep him safe today during this competition. Namar.”
“Namar.” Glorfindel turned upon hearing Elrond’s voice behind him. He gave the elf-lord a warm smile before turning his attention to the field below. The first challenge was alphabetically arranged; a jumping competition. Erestor and Morir would go third.
- - -
“Good thing you decided not to wager against your brother,” remarked Celebrian to her middle child as Erestor took the blue ribbon for the rings. The counselor now had two ribbons, one blue and one red, hanging from Morir’s bridle and a smug, high-stepping horse. It also meant that he had higher points than most of the other competitors, and would be facing an equally strong opponent in the first round of the joust. Turning to her cousin, who sat next to her now, she said, “Fin, stop biting your nails.”
“He has never been this close before.” Glorfindel shoved his hands in his pockets. “I just hope Morir does not get too cocky.”
“Or Erestor for that matter,” said Elrond. Everyone in the booth waited quietly as Erestor took hold of his lance and shield at the side he was assigned to. The point of this version of the sport was not to even make contact with the other rider. Those participating were to ride to the center where a ring was dangling from a hook hanging from a wire. Whoever’s lance passed through and gained the ring first took the point; best of three won the match. This perhaps made the event less exciting than when the target was the other rider, but infinitely more safe and a greater test of the strength and speed of the horses.
Elladan, who had returned with bags of fresh roasted nuts and other candies, scanned the field. “No swords for the jousters?” he complained. “What if there is a scuffle?”
“There will be no scuffling,” said Elrohir. “This is the civilized version.”
“I know, but still.” Elladan offered some of the treats he had brought back to his parents before joining his twin at the rail. “Remember that time when it was a joust for real, back when Erestor had that mean, tan horse that used to nip at our heals? I thought the horse was going to bite Erestor’s squire when he came out to get lead him back. He really wanted to keep in it!”
“She,” corrected Glorfindel. “The butterscotch-colored mare he had sixty years ago, the one who would not share a stall with any other horses. That was a she.”
“Do you remember that match, though?” Elladan was so excited that he knocked some of his roasted almonds out of the paper funnel they were held in. “The first thing I had thought was, no possible way Erestor can win this one. But then, he drew his sword like the other knight and swung it ‘round over his head, which I think was for show but impressed me! And then-“
“Elladan, we were all here for that,” his father reminded him.
“Right,” said Elladan with a sigh as he went back to watching the competition.
As Erestor sat motionless with his right hand holding the lance straight up and his left arm holding the shield, Glorfindel dug his hands further into his pockets. A shrill whistle sounded and both Erestor and the rider opposite him charged the field upon their mounts at full speed.
After a bad start at missing the first ring, Erestor captured the second two and moved into the next round. It took some time to make it through the other fifteen pairs, and then to continue to whittle down the group with subsequent rounds. Things were looking fairly well for Erestor coming into the quarterfinals.
“Even if he does not win this one, if he can at least make second or third, or if that one on the white and grey does not place in first, Erestor will take a place in the competition overall,” Celebrian said as the four remaining competitors joined one of the judges off the field to flip a coin to determine pairings for the next two jousts, which consisted of the riders spearing consecutively smaller and smaller rings instead of riding head to head for one. “It certainly seems he deserves it after all this time.”
“He has placed before,” Elrond informed his wife. “You were not here at those times, but he has even taken top place in many races and competitions with his horses.”
“But, in this exact series of events?” questioned Celebrian.
Elrond considered this for a moment and finally shook his head. “Not with this competition – you are right. My mistake,” he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.
“They should use swords for this part,” complained Elladan as he munched on his snacks.
As the rings became smaller and smaller, Glorfindel found himself watching less and less, until all he did was cover his eyes, opening them only when he heard the gleeful shouts from the twins and Celebrian when Erestor would manage to spear his rings. On the sixth pass, Erestor victorious displayed the small metal ring that glimmered on the end of his lance while his opponent sadly tossed his lance to his page as he rode off of the field.
The other two participants still in the running had yet to compete, and they remounted now as Erestor coaxed Morir to the sideline and handed his lance to his waiting squire. Before the field was set for the next set of jousts, a group of horses that had been tethered to their posts at the edge of the area began to pull on their reigns and fight the leather straps that kept them there. A few managed to break free immediately, running wild, while the others bucked and whinnied, stomping on the ground.
The only rider immediately in the area of the scared creatures was Erestor, who turned Morir to move with those racing away from the field. Pushing his mount to keep up with the horses, Erestor managed to herd them back around to the stables before leaving the fearful horses in the care of the stable hands while he rode back to the epicenter of the problem.
Concentrating more on getting back to the horses that were still tied to their posts to see if they were alright than with what had scared them in the first place, Erestor did not think to watch his path for anything out of the ordinary. Within a hundred feet of the spooked horses, the hooded head of a snake shot up from the grass. Morir panicked, rising up on his back legs suddenly.
Finding himself slipping from the horse, Erestor tried to make it off and onto his feet. Instead of leaping with grace, his foot tangled in the stirrup and he hit the ground on his left side as Morir’s feet came down in the grass. Ignoring the pain and the sound of the broken bone in his left arm, Erestor reached up and yanked off his boot, leaving it in the stirrup. “Noro lim, Morir!” he shouted at the horse as the snake hissed and swayed back and forth. “Kel! Kel! Kel!” he yelled, not wanting to move to push the horse for fear the cobra would strike.
- - -
“Can you see anything?” Glorfindel was squinting as he and Elrond stood on the high platform trying to determine what was going on. “He sat up; do you think he is alright?”
“Right now, yes, probably broke his arm the way he is—oh, sweet Elbereth...” Elrond’s eyes widened. “Fin, where is your bow?”
- - -
“Get out of here, Morir!” Erestor was shaking a little now, but he could not tell if it was from the fear of being so close to this deadly creature, or if it was because of the pain in his arm and his side. “Morir, go to the stables! Go, Morir!”
Erestor had been edging slowly forward, inch by inch, making his way in between the horse and the snake. As the cobra arched back and rose up once again, Erestor decided not to wait any longer. His hope was to surprise it by grabbing its hood and flinging it away. Unfortunately, he had not accounted for the fact he was so weak from his fall and from the day of racing. When he grabbed hold of the snake, she jerked out of his grasp. Finding a new target now, she lunged forward and embedded her fangs into his shoulder, venom coursing into the wound.
I will have to twist this one to get it back on the fluff path tomrrow, but i'm beat now... but here's where i'm at so far...
oh, the prompt is 'SPORT' btw
“Have you ever seen a horse more magnificent than his?” asked Elrond of Glorfindel as Erestor rode onto the field to the cheering of many in the audience. Celebrian elbowed her husband gently from her spot on his other side and Elrond amended his comment to include, “Besides Asfaloth, of course.”
“Hmm? Oh... of course.” Glorfindel leaned forward on the rail of the high, shaded dais that served as the place for the family and others of importance to watch the activities on the sporting field. Today’s event was a competition of horse skills and less of a race. Usually Erestor did well, but he excelled in racing, especially chariot races. This was a one horse, one rider competition that had over thirty of varying degrees of experience against one another.
Many of the events were tests of individual skill, but there was a joust, and that always had Glorfindel on edge. Out on the field, Erestor seemed rather relaxed as he waited for the rest of the riders to be announced and to line the field. Morir stood still as he was trained to, barely flinching when flies came near or when Erestor flicked them away with his crop.
“Care to make a wager?” asked Elladan of his younger brother. Elrohir shrugged. “I bet you three silvers that Erestor wins the rings.”
“You do not have three silvers,” said Elrohir, who was more occupied with watching the prettily dressed maidens who would keep the scores at the far end of the field for those in the audience to see.
Elladan turned around and looked at his father. “Ada, may I borrow three silver pieces?”
“Ask your mother,” Elrond answered promptly.
“Nana-“ began Elladan.
Stilling her fan for a moment, Celebrian shook her head. “Absolutely not. I will not have you gambling with your brother, or anyone else for that matter. Besides, you say ‘borrow’ when you mean ‘have’.” She continued in vain to try to keep herself cool in the heat.
With a huff, Elladan went back to watching those on the field.
“Elladan.”
The elder twin looked over upon hearing his name, and caught the coin that had been flipped through the air at him. “Whooa, a gold piece!” he exclaimed, turning it over in his hand. Elladan smirked at his brother, and Elrohir pouted a little.
From his spot leaning against the railing, Glorfindel laughed and took another from his pocket. “Catch, Elrohir.” When each of the twins had in their hands a gleaming piece of gold, Glorfindel said, “Now, what I would do is stop your silly talk of betting and invest your money in wiser pursuits. Perhaps at one of the vendors on the grounds or to treat one of those lovely ladies the two of your have had your eyes on all morning,” suggested the blond elf.
“Thank you, Uncle Fin!” Elladan raced behind his parents to the stairs that would take him back to the general grounds of the event.
Elrohir walked to his parents and asked, “May El and I be excused until the race begins?” Elrond nodded unemotionally, and Elrohir smiled, then turned and said, “Thanks, Uncle Fin!” before following after his brother.
“Glorfindel, you really need not spoil them like that,” said Celebrian.
“You are only young once,” he replied. “They will be responsible adults sooner than you wish it; let them enjoy this time they have now.”
Looking back to the field, Glorfindel noticed that the majority of the riders were assembled. This was obviously realized by Erestor as well, for the dark ellon was stretching his arms above his head and rolling the kinks from his neck. Glorfindel disliked seeing Erestor in this manner as much as he enjoyed it. On one hand, he took great pride in the fact that he had been the one to teach the elf so many long years ago how to ride a horse. On the other, beyond those happy days in Gondolin, the most vivid memories that Glorfindel had of Erestor on a horse involved the fall of their beloved city and the great war that had only just ended not more than a few hundred years earlier.
Erestor’s posture was one that reminded Glorfindel of someone going into battle. He was alert, but not too stiff. The leather of his gear had been painstakingly polished to a shine, and the metal gleaned in the sunlight. Silver, black, and brilliant blue. Morir and Erestor looked fearsome together, each of them with their own stern look, each of them dark and mysterious. Erestor bent his head to whisper to the horse, and Morir gave a snort of determination.
Tightening his gloves and checking the lacings of his boots, Erestor took a slow breath in, held it, and let it slowly out. Erestor closed his eyes as the master of the event spoke the rules that he could likely recite in his sleep and folded his hands together before him. Bowing his head, his lips moved as he quietly spoke a prayer unheard by anyone, and unseen by most.
At the balcony overlooking the competition, Glorfindel saw it. His gaze staggered to the others for a moment, but fell back upon Erestor. In that small, simple act of supplication, Glorfindel saw courage greater than that of the other participants combined. He saw some of the others, others on their horses and squires and pages as well, pointing and snickering as Erestor paid them no mind and continued his prayer.
Before he had even realized what it was that he was doing, Glorfindel found his fingers interlaced with each other as he leaned on the railing with his elbows. His words were sincere, and he cared not who was watching or listening. “Dear Eru, please bless Erestor and keep him safe today during this competition. Namar.”
“Namar.” Glorfindel turned upon hearing Elrond’s voice behind him. He gave the elf-lord a warm smile before turning his attention to the field below. The first challenge was alphabetically arranged; a jumping competition. Erestor and Morir would go third.
- - -
“Good thing you decided not to wager against your brother,” remarked Celebrian to her middle child as Erestor took the blue ribbon for the rings. The counselor now had two ribbons, one blue and one red, hanging from Morir’s bridle and a smug, high-stepping horse. It also meant that he had higher points than most of the other competitors, and would be facing an equally strong opponent in the first round of the joust. Turning to her cousin, who sat next to her now, she said, “Fin, stop biting your nails.”
“He has never been this close before.” Glorfindel shoved his hands in his pockets. “I just hope Morir does not get too cocky.”
“Or Erestor for that matter,” said Elrond. Everyone in the booth waited quietly as Erestor took hold of his lance and shield at the side he was assigned to. The point of this version of the sport was not to even make contact with the other rider. Those participating were to ride to the center where a ring was dangling from a hook hanging from a wire. Whoever’s lance passed through and gained the ring first took the point; best of three won the match. This perhaps made the event less exciting than when the target was the other rider, but infinitely more safe and a greater test of the strength and speed of the horses.
Elladan, who had returned with bags of fresh roasted nuts and other candies, scanned the field. “No swords for the jousters?” he complained. “What if there is a scuffle?”
“There will be no scuffling,” said Elrohir. “This is the civilized version.”
“I know, but still.” Elladan offered some of the treats he had brought back to his parents before joining his twin at the rail. “Remember that time when it was a joust for real, back when Erestor had that mean, tan horse that used to nip at our heals? I thought the horse was going to bite Erestor’s squire when he came out to get lead him back. He really wanted to keep in it!”
“She,” corrected Glorfindel. “The butterscotch-colored mare he had sixty years ago, the one who would not share a stall with any other horses. That was a she.”
“Do you remember that match, though?” Elladan was so excited that he knocked some of his roasted almonds out of the paper funnel they were held in. “The first thing I had thought was, no possible way Erestor can win this one. But then, he drew his sword like the other knight and swung it ‘round over his head, which I think was for show but impressed me! And then-“
“Elladan, we were all here for that,” his father reminded him.
“Right,” said Elladan with a sigh as he went back to watching the competition.
As Erestor sat motionless with his right hand holding the lance straight up and his left arm holding the shield, Glorfindel dug his hands further into his pockets. A shrill whistle sounded and both Erestor and the rider opposite him charged the field upon their mounts at full speed.
After a bad start at missing the first ring, Erestor captured the second two and moved into the next round. It took some time to make it through the other fifteen pairs, and then to continue to whittle down the group with subsequent rounds. Things were looking fairly well for Erestor coming into the quarterfinals.
“Even if he does not win this one, if he can at least make second or third, or if that one on the white and grey does not place in first, Erestor will take a place in the competition overall,” Celebrian said as the four remaining competitors joined one of the judges off the field to flip a coin to determine pairings for the next two jousts, which consisted of the riders spearing consecutively smaller and smaller rings instead of riding head to head for one. “It certainly seems he deserves it after all this time.”
“He has placed before,” Elrond informed his wife. “You were not here at those times, but he has even taken top place in many races and competitions with his horses.”
“But, in this exact series of events?” questioned Celebrian.
Elrond considered this for a moment and finally shook his head. “Not with this competition – you are right. My mistake,” he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.
“They should use swords for this part,” complained Elladan as he munched on his snacks.
As the rings became smaller and smaller, Glorfindel found himself watching less and less, until all he did was cover his eyes, opening them only when he heard the gleeful shouts from the twins and Celebrian when Erestor would manage to spear his rings. On the sixth pass, Erestor victorious displayed the small metal ring that glimmered on the end of his lance while his opponent sadly tossed his lance to his page as he rode off of the field.
The other two participants still in the running had yet to compete, and they remounted now as Erestor coaxed Morir to the sideline and handed his lance to his waiting squire. Before the field was set for the next set of jousts, a group of horses that had been tethered to their posts at the edge of the area began to pull on their reigns and fight the leather straps that kept them there. A few managed to break free immediately, running wild, while the others bucked and whinnied, stomping on the ground.
The only rider immediately in the area of the scared creatures was Erestor, who turned Morir to move with those racing away from the field. Pushing his mount to keep up with the horses, Erestor managed to herd them back around to the stables before leaving the fearful horses in the care of the stable hands while he rode back to the epicenter of the problem.
Concentrating more on getting back to the horses that were still tied to their posts to see if they were alright than with what had scared them in the first place, Erestor did not think to watch his path for anything out of the ordinary. Within a hundred feet of the spooked horses, the hooded head of a snake shot up from the grass. Morir panicked, rising up on his back legs suddenly.
Finding himself slipping from the horse, Erestor tried to make it off and onto his feet. Instead of leaping with grace, his foot tangled in the stirrup and he hit the ground on his left side as Morir’s feet came down in the grass. Ignoring the pain and the sound of the broken bone in his left arm, Erestor reached up and yanked off his boot, leaving it in the stirrup. “Noro lim, Morir!” he shouted at the horse as the snake hissed and swayed back and forth. “Kel! Kel! Kel!” he yelled, not wanting to move to push the horse for fear the cobra would strike.
- - -
“Can you see anything?” Glorfindel was squinting as he and Elrond stood on the high platform trying to determine what was going on. “He sat up; do you think he is alright?”
“Right now, yes, probably broke his arm the way he is—oh, sweet Elbereth...” Elrond’s eyes widened. “Fin, where is your bow?”
- - -
“Get out of here, Morir!” Erestor was shaking a little now, but he could not tell if it was from the fear of being so close to this deadly creature, or if it was because of the pain in his arm and his side. “Morir, go to the stables! Go, Morir!”
Erestor had been edging slowly forward, inch by inch, making his way in between the horse and the snake. As the cobra arched back and rose up once again, Erestor decided not to wait any longer. His hope was to surprise it by grabbing its hood and flinging it away. Unfortunately, he had not accounted for the fact he was so weak from his fall and from the day of racing. When he grabbed hold of the snake, she jerked out of his grasp. Finding a new target now, she lunged forward and embedded her fangs into his shoulder, venom coursing into the wound.
