Trying to decide....
Aug. 18th, 2006 09:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zhieI'm trying to decide on the excerpts to use for the DragonCon fanfic panels for samples of my stuff...
Here's what I'm thinking....
SLASH
Drops of dried blood covered Glorfindel’s arms by the time Turgon had given him the signal to hold. Terrible trails where the whip had left its mark marred Erestor’s once smooth, tanned flesh, and his long braid was draped over his shoulder, caked with blood. Sweat glistened on his skin, mingling with the rivers of red, but now as he panted heavily, he realized he had endured it all. Though worse than the last time, he had managed to keep his senses and not pass out.
Turgon stood before the Noldo now, shaking his head. “I sincerely hope in some way that this was worth it.” He did not look at Glorfindel as he passed by, but paused when he reached Ecthelion. “Leave him there, for three days. Lock the doors when you go.”
Ecthelion bowed as Turgon continued to the exit. In a panic, Glorfindel started after the king, but he was stopped by Ecthelion. The dark-haired ellon waited until the door had closed before he spoke. “What did I tell you about your actions, Glorfindel? Did I not say this is not the time nor the place to explore your personal feelings? Now look at what you have done.”
“You told him,” ground out Glorfindel, and Ecthelion made a sort of snorting sound in the back of his throat.
“You think I told him? You have so little trust in me that you think I would have told him? How long have I known? How long?” Ecthelion’s words rose up and echoed off of the high walls. “Damn you, Glorfindel. I treat you like my son, and you accuse me of such a thing.”
The blond had bowed his head shamefully, small sobs beginning to come from him. “I- am sorry- Thel, I-“
“Do not tell me you are sorry.” Ecthelion roughly grabbed hold of the younger elf’s arm, half-leading, half-dragging him to where Erestor was still strung up. “Tell him you are sorry,” he demanded, shoving Glorfindel down at Erestor’s feet.
“Erestor...” Glorfindel looked up into the tired brown eyes whose gaze was upon him. At once, he was brought to tears. “Erestor, I am so sorry, so very, very sorry,” he choked.
“I forgive you, Glorfindel, but you have no need to apologize. What I did I did freely,” responded Erestor between long drawn breaths of air.
“Tell him what it felt like, Erestor. Tell him what the whip he wielded did to you.” Ecthelion was still staring down at Glorfindel unsympathetically.
After a few pants and a gasp for air, Erestor lolled his head from side to side. “No, Thel. Not now.”
“Tell him,” growled Ecthelion. “Tell him what you felt each time the lash kissed your flesh.”
“Fin, knock it off.”
“Mmmmhh.”
“Glorfindel!” Erestor tugged at the sheet, but quickly realized that it was being drawn off of him not to the side, but from the bottom of the bed. Sitting up abruptly, he could now hear something of a worried sob coming from the floor. “Gwindor?”
Erestor stumbled off of the bed and found the elfling at the foot of it, one hand clutching the end of the sheet and his other holding his knee. He was shivering, and when Erestor gathered him into his arms, he found out he was damp, from sweating and crying and from what he was crying about.
“I tried to get out of bed, but I fell and then I didn’t make it,” explained Gwindor, but between his tears and his lisp, all Erestor understood was ‘bed’ and ‘fell’, as he carried the elfling to the washroom. Behind them trailed the sheet, Gwindor’s hand still holding it.
Sitting Gwindor down on the countertop, Erestor pulled the nightshirt off of the elfling over his head, loosening the grip he had on the sheet. “We’ll get you cleaned up, and then back to bed.”
Looking ready to cry again, Gwindor said, “I mean, I didn’t make it and then I fell.” This was more discernable, as was, “I knocked the chamber pot over, too.”
“You can sleep in bed with us, peanut.” Glorfindel entered the room, gathering up the trailing sheet as he made his way to them. Under his arm he had a fresh shirt for Gwindor and a towel. “If you get the water ready, I will give him a bath,” offered Glorfindel to Erestor.
Wanting to say, ‘You just don’t want to strip his bed’, Erestor simply nodded. He left Gwindor sitting on the counter as he began to fill the tub.
“Ada?”
“Yes, peanut?”
“When will you teach me to walk?”
Bowing his head, the tears fell from Erestor’s eyes into the basin as the water flowed into it. “Soon, Gwindor.”
“Tomorrow, maybe?” asked the elfling hopefully. “I think I could learn fast and then I would make it out of bed faster.”
Erestor reached down into the water as if he were testing it, splashing a handful up onto his face. “Maybe tomorrow,” replied the elf, hating himself for the false hope he gave the little one. He turned to find Gwindor grinning happily at him and smiled back, holding back his tears. Glorfindel came in again, handing a clean shirt to Erestor.
“You’re a little damp,” he whispered, “and I took care of his bed, if you can manage the floor.” To the elfling, Glorfindel said, “Well, now, shall we find your gulls, or is your toy boat good enough for right now?”
“Boat,” Gwindor decided as he was lifted off of the counter and lowered into the warm water.
When Glorfindel carried him into the bedroom, the elfling was jabbering about the sea and the beach and the waves and boats in between yawns. The minute he was settled in bed, he drifted asleep. “I propose we stay in bed late tomorrow,” Glorfindel said quietly, raising his hand as if calling for a vote. “All those in favor? Erestor?” Glorfindel frowned as his arm dropped. “Erestor, what’s wrong?”
Erestor’s arms covered his face, his hands fisted in his own hair. “When are we going to tell him? What are we going to do? I would carry him for a thousand years, but in five or ten he’s not going to want that. He wants to be normal. How do we tell him he isn’t?”
--------
As Glorfindel closed in, he took note of the scattered carnage. Normally, the remains were left and tilled into the soil come the late winter. Now, the seeds and pulp were strewn all over, the defined rows gone. The crop of the next year would prove interesting. “Feeling any better?” wondered Glorfindel as he approached.
“No.” Erestor kicked up a squash he had missed, and swung the staff around to meet it as it tried to fall to the ground. Pieces flew in every direction, skidding to a halt in the snow. A rancid cucumber faired no better. Glorfindel looked about and spied a long, straight branch on the ground, making little work of the twigs that were attached to it. Rolling his neck back and forth and to the sides as he walked to Erestor, he lifted the staff to tap him on the shoulder.
Still, he was ready for the blow. Erestor turned on his heel before Glorfindel could reach him, bringing the staff over his head and down. Glorfindel blocked, his branch held between both hands. “That was a dirty move,” he said, knees bent slightly as he fended off another swing of the wooden weapon.
“A warrior must be prepared for anything.”
“Indeed.” Glorfindel valted over Erestor, using his staff for leverage, landing on a patch of ice. He lowered himself to the ground, using the slippery surface to his advantage. He slid in a semicircle, his arm out to one side for balance while the other held his staff. Judging the distance, he swung his weapon toward Erestor’s legs, but the dark elf managed to take note of the move, and leaped back just in time.
On one hand, Glorfindel wanted to drop his weapon, draw Erestor into an embrace, and snuggle him until everything was alright. On the other hand, he knew that wasn’t going to make anything alright, and it wasn’t going to make Erestor feel alright. So instead, he crouched a bit lower to the ground, narrowed his eyes and said, “Are you giving up already?”
Anger flashed in Erestor’s eyes, temporarily. A look Glorfindel hadn’t seen since days long past in Rivendell, in a time when they were verbally at war with one another. “Your ass is mine,” growled Erestor.
Glorfindel grinned as he was once again attacked, the sounds of wood cracking and splintering rising up in the darkness. Only the light of the stars and moon guided them, and their own natural abilities. Snow sprayed as their feet kicked it up, and attacks came swifter and more brutally as Glorfindel’s muscles loosened up. “Is that your best?” he chided as the staff missed his head by inches.
Teeth were bared, and Erestor swung his weapon with full force at his opponent. The impact caused Glorfindel’s branch to be snapped in two, and knocked him a step back. Throwing the broken wood to the ground, he cracked his knuckles as Erestor twirled his staff before bringing it to rest at his side. “No weapon?”
“Don’t need one,” replied Glorfindel, crouching in a defensive position.
Erestor spun the staff again, then tossed it again. “Take your boots off,” he said, stepping out of his own.
“Why? Afraid they’ll leave a mark?”
“I don’t want to ruin them.”
Glorfindel snorted – even in battle, ever practical was Erestor. “There. Shall we?”
Erestor tossed his boots aside to where Glorfindel had thrown his. “No biting,” he added as an afterthought.
“No biting? My dear counselor, in war, there are no rules.” Glorfindel was now circling, getting closer, but not too close, looking for a weak spot.
Erestor gave him a wicked look. “Well, I meant not to hurt your fair skin, but if you insist-“
“Oh, not to hurt me? How kind. I decline the offer,” Glorfindel shot back.
“Suit yourself.” And Erestor pounced.
Glorfindel beckoned Erestor forward, crooking his finger and leering slightly. With a wicked smile, the scribe stood and slid the chair of his desk in before proceeding forward. His movement was slow as he approached, sensuous and graceful. With one final step, he stood directly before Glorfindel, who now held out the scroll to him.
“Read to me, darling,” insisted the captain. “I wish to hear what your muses have inspired you to create.”
Smile still in place, Erestor took the scroll. “Very well. It will be... a pleasure,” he drawled as he unrolled the parchment.
“Touch Me – Feel Me
Strip Me – Reveal Me”
Erestor paused as Glorfindel yanked him forward by the belt of his robe, both moving him closer and at the same time dismantling the garment enough that it fell open, displaying the tall, lean body of the dark elf. One leg shifted in front of the other, and Glorfindel placed his hands tenderly on Erestor’s neck, sliding down his shoulder to push away the material that blocked his full view.
“Your shy eyes give you away
You jump at the chance when I ask you to stay
Taste Me – Tease Me
Seize Me – Please Me”
There was a gasp, as Glorfindel closed in on his lover and began to sample the milky flesh that had been revealed to him. Still clothed, he pressed against Erestor, his erection rubbing satiny flesh, his hands gripping the firm backside. Erestor’s hand fisted the sheet on which the poem was written, and he did not look to it any longer. As it dropped from his grasp, he recited:
“Now your gentle caresses linger
Slip within, taunt with your finger”
Another cry rose from him, and Glorfindel had tested and found that his wily lover had prepared himself ahead of time. Not wishing to disappoint, he stroked and twisted, knowing just how to adjust and when to drive Erestor mad. It seemed to only serve him right, for having teased him with this poem all the long day.
HET
It had taken her very little time to remove what garments she did have on, which, to her dismay and pleasure, were a bit damp in certain areas. Her pout as she tossed her dress through the opened curtains caused Haldir to chuckle as he drew himself up enough to be in position to push her down onto the mattress.
With Elodien on her back, Haldir moved next to her and settled on his side, his right arm propped on the pillow and his hand kng hng his head up. leftleft hand snaked over her leg, dipping back into the silken folds: teasing, touching, caressing, and thrusting. All the while, Elodien gripped the bed sheets as the delicious torture continued, whimpering as she realized she did not know how to ask him for what she wanted.
Reaching one trembling hand to his less-occupied one, Elodien tried to place his upon her, but he pulled it away and grinned. "Baw," he said, and then came a long string of words Elodien did not know, after which he regarded her intensely, his eyes questioning. She whimpered and whined and even thrashed a bit when she found he intended to do nothing further. Again she reached for him, but Haldir shifted away and whispered the words again, and yet another sentence she could not comprehend, and then more, of which all she knew was her own name.
He did not cease his movement when she failed to respond, however, he did slow, and this only caused her frustration to build. "Ú-chenion!" she finally called out, desperately not wanting to give in. Pausing his current ministrations, Haldir bent over Elodien and kissed her nose, then licked his tongue over her lips as the fingers of his right hand moved lightly over her breasts. Elodien cried out, giving Haldir access to her mouth, and he repaid her fully for the earlier incident.
As her tongue was pulled into his mouth, her muffled cries were punctuated by a sudden muted gasp as he thrust his fingers deeper, and then stopped abruptly. Elodien regarded Haldir through her half-closed eyes, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he took hold of one of her hands in his, placed a kiss upon her wrist, and laid it upon her breast. He did the same with her other hand, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Tiriathon," he said slowly, letting the words linger. Elodien whimpered, shutting her eyes. She did not move her hands at first, opting to concentrate on what his hands were doing, but Haldir clicked his tongue and began to remove his damp fingers from down below. Immediately, Elodien complied with his request, massaging her own body as Haldir hovered over her and watched her movements. "Maer…" he said softly, leaning in to nip her earlobe, running his tongue along the curve.
Elodien's ministrations were timid at first, but soon she learned that the attention Haldir gave the rest of her body was directly proportional to the show she gave to him. Still too shy to open her eyes, she let her fingers stray to one swollen peak, and gasped when she realized how firm it was, and how sensual the feeling was that came from it.
Blushing, she moved back to safer territory, but she knew Haldir had seen and heard. She could not know his next move, but felt him as his cheek nudged her hands away. He took the rosy bud into his mouth, causing Elodien to cry out again as he flicked his tongue against her, his right hand tending to the opposite side, as her own hands dropped down into the bed sheets, fingers curled, gripping the fabric. She wanted to touch him, but the feel of his skin would make her lose what little restrain she had, and her intention had not been to sate only her own desire.
"Sedho a mibo nin," he said, and Elodien felt his hands leave her, and though she cried out, it was caught in his throat. She made no sound as he continued to silently, yet ardently kissed her, but her eyes widened in terror as she registered the sound he no doubt heard before she had.
Footsteps in the hall approaching their quarters, and the click of the handle on the main door leading to their rooms. Whether it was a maid, a friend, or perhaps even the master of the inn himself, they could not be certain. Unable to speak her frustration at the sudden intrusion, she pinched Haldir's arm instead and gave him a look that accused him of not locking the door.
"I love summer."
"I love summer more."
"I love summer most."
"I love--" Celebrían was halted from having to attempt something more than most. "Oh, that. That I love. Right there." Unconsciously she licked her lips as Elrond landed back on his feet after volleying the ball over the net. Orophin made a valiant attempt at hitting it as he jumped into the air, and Rúmil tried his best to save the game as he dove, sliding into the sand and unfortunately sending the ball bounding off toward the audience.
Ordinarily, Valarda would have participated in the sport, but when Elrond appeared that morning on the porch taking a mild interest in the activity on the beach, Celebrían rushed to where her brothers and Valarda were setting up the game net and begged the red head to sit out today. Elrond smiled and did not hesitate when Haldir waved him over as Valarda strolled off with Celebrían.
Picking up the ball as it rolled to her feet, Elodien glanced at her grandmother and said, "Odd as it sounds, I have to concur with you."
"Elodien!" hissed Valarda. "Eyes on the guys!"
Elodien quickly looked back to see Haldir taking a long drink from the wineskin that had been propped against the nearer pole of the net. A collective sigh resounded from all of the ladies. Moments later, Orophin tried to swipe the water from his brother, succeeding only in spilling some down the front of Haldir's shirt. His second attempt found them fighting over the wineskin, water splashing about.
"No, Rúmil! Bad!" Nenniach said as she watched her husband calm the two combatants. As soon as Rúmil's back was turned, Orophin, who had gained control of the wineskin, turned it upside down over his little brother's head. Clapping her hand over her mouth to keep her grin covered, eyes wide and feigning concern, she said, "Thank you, Orophin."
Valarda snorted and Celebrían bowed her head to laugh. Elodien nodded her approval to this, too. She looked at Haldir, who was standing and pointing at Rúmil, chuckling with Elrond as Orophin scuttled off grinning madly. Being the closest, Haldir was pounced by Rúmil and knocked to the ground.
"Oh, they're going to ruin their clothes if they keep this up," scolded Nenniach as she stood up.
"Excellent idea!" Valarda agreed slyly. "Naked elf watching. Tell my Orophin to take off his clothes while you're at it. He'll do it, too!"
Nenniach's jaw dropped, but she recovered quickly. "I am not asking for all of his clothes, only his tunic."
Standing Valarda said, "I bet I can get Orophin to take off more clothes with less words."
"I don't doubt it," laughed Nenniach as the pair walked off in the direction of the game. As they approached, the dark haired elleth put two fingers in her mouth and gave a shrill whistle, stopping the brawl that was about to begin had they not interrupted. As the elves scrambled to right themselves, Nenniach pointed at Rúmil's sand- stained tunic. "I'm here to take that before you ruin it."
Grumbling a bit, Rúmil pulled his tunic over his head and handed it to Nenniach as Valarda held out a hand to Orophin. "You, too," she said, adding, "And the pants."
"Why?" demanded Orophin, but he was already untying the string that held them up.
"Because I said so," Valarda kissed her husband after he had tossed his tunic and his pants over her arm.
Rúmil's brows were high above his eyes. "You wear red underwear?"
Orophin held up a hand. "Allow me to briefly explain myself." He struck a sensual pose and gave Valarda a pout, to which she smiled predatorily. "I look exceptional in red."
"Quite exceptional, you sexy thing," remarked Valarda.
Frowning, Rúmil pulled his leggings down and flung them in his own wife's direction. "I do well enough without fancy bright colors to lure my lady." He sauntered over to Nenniach, who hid her surprise well as he gripped her wrist and pulled her into his arms, crushing her against him as he sought out her lips with his.
"Oh, please, I can do much better." Orophin marched to Valarda, took hold of his clothes and threw them to the ground. She was in his embrace and then dipped low to the ground as he imitated a passionate kiss.
"Aiya, Elbereth!" Celebrían fanned herself with her hand as she watched her sister-in-law return. "I can so easily forget they are my brothers and just enjoy the view."
"So you thought thieving was a good idea, did you? You've been listening to too many of Bilbo's tales in the Halls after dark." His breath was hot on her pointed ear, and he flicked out his tongue. "Tell me, what is it like to take something which does not belong to you?"
Arwen tilted her head up in defiance. "He may be your horse, but is it not my father's valley, and does not everything in his valley come under his rule?"
Glorfindel's eyes narrowed, as he drew back a little, his hands still clutching Arwen's wrists, holding them against the wooden wall of the stable, high above her head. "His rule. Not yours. You took my horse without permission."
"And brought him back."
"Not the point." He stepped closer to her, his voice deepening. "You have your own steed, faster and greater than my own. Why did you take mine, knowing my wrath would come upon you, if that was not what you had hoped for?" She continued to gaze past him, her rebellious nature forever present upon her face. "Defy me like a child and you shall be treated as one," he told her, and without warning swiftly turned her face the wall.
He still held her hands as high as he could with one of his own. Her cheek pressed against the weathered wood as the first blow hit her backside. His open hand made contact with her rear nine more times. The first time she had cried out in surprise, but now she gasped and felt herself moving toward the impact. He wasn't spanking her very hard, but the thrusts of her hips back made them harder than he intended so that she was panting when he turned her back around.
"Don't let it happen again," he warned, his finger nearly touching her nose as he pointed it at her. He let her wrists go and turned to leave.
"Aren't you going to finish what you started?"
Glorfindel looked over his shoulder to see Arwen backed up against the wall, her hands pressed against the wooden panel at either side of her. Her head was turned to the side, and she was looking downwards, for the first time ever that he could recall in her adult life, looking passive. "I'm finished. Don't let it happen again." Once more he turned to go.
"Don't you want to know what it's like to take something that does not belong to you?" Glorfindel stopped dead in his tracks, but did not turn to look at Arwen as she continued. "It's thrilling, I assure you. The rush of it. That you could get caught."
"You think he would catch me?" Slowly, Glorfindel went to the door of the barn and locked it. From a peg on the wall he lifted a rope as he passed. He stretched out the rope between his hands. "You think I would let him catch me?"
"I could scream," she said to him, shivering as her eyes met his.
He swung one end of the rope up over the rafters, catching it again as it came down. "You will scream. My name." His words were a low growl, and he motioned that she should approach him, smiling when she looked back to some distance point in the ceiling and stood her ground.
Okay, I feel pretty good on those above ones, unless someone can think of something where I should definitely have x instead of y. For the gen ones, I'm not so sure... I thought it would be cute to do a little of everybody (elves, men, hobbits, dwarves), but not sure those are my best gen works...
GEN
Elfling Chronicles: Stargazing (excerpt)
Elrond settled his head in the grass, content to leave his brother to find what they were looking for. His eyelids were drooping by the time he heard, "I found it! I found it! There he is!" Elros was happily pointing up at a bright light above, that to many others would have seemed an ordinary star. Turning his head to address his slightly younger brother, he said, "Look, he's winking at us!"
The light in the sky flashed twice more, and Elrond looked up in awe as Elros grinned and giggled. "Nana must be up there with him tonight, he usually only winks once. I think the other one is from her."
In matched voices, the twins called up to the sky, "Love you, Nana! Love you, Ada!" The star blinked again, but slower and more lovingly at the pair of elflings in the grass.
For a little while they watched the sky darken and the stars shine more brightly as their bedtime slowly approached. Their 'Uncle Maglor' as they called the elf who was their surrogate father had yet to call them to bed, and likely he had been persuaded to sing another tune before the adults retired as well. Whatever the reason, the youngsters were glad for this extra time, however brief, to think quietly to themselves under the watchful eyes of their parents far above in the heavens.
Always Tell Me First
"Uncle Elrond! Uncle Elrond!" Tindomiel and Atanalcar rushed through the grass, tearing a path in their wake. The tall elf stooped down so that he was eyelevel to them when they nearly ran him over. "Uncle Elrond, Vardamir said me and Atanalcar can't chase those butterflies no more," pouted Tindomiel. "He said we was going to be hit and he would do the hitting if we did it."
"Tindomiel, please, don't shout," Elrond said calmly. "And child, once again, Atanalcar and I, not and me and most definitely not me and," he corrected. Tindomiel made a noise that sounded not unlike a growling dog, and Elrond frowned. "Furthermore, double negatives are not proper. You used can't and no more in a sentence and you can't do that."
"You mean, she can't do that no more," Atanalcar half-babbled, his eyes watching another butterfly flitter closer and closer to them.
"Atanalcar, no!" Vardamir jogged over, his awkward near-teen form taking great loping strides, and easily crossing the distance to his siblings. "I said no, Atanalcar!" shouted Vardamir, his fists balled up as Atanalcar made a swipe for the fluttering creature. Elrond put his hand to one ear and heard the laughter of his brother behind him. Standing up, Elrond tried to manage a smile.
Although twins, the raucous did not so much affect Elros as it did Elrond, nor would anyone have known them to be twins to see them. If anything, one might almost mistake Elros, with his dark close-cut beard and shorter hair, fuller cheeks and slightly crinkling skin to be the father of five and not four, the eldest of which was just now become a man, lean and tall, and with sensitive hearing.
This, however, was not the case, and Elrond waved his free hand in the general direction of the children. "You're the father, I'll leave you to figure it out," he sighed, still cupping his injured ear. His twin, elder by mere minutes, laughed heartily, and leaned forward, his hands propped on his knees. "Vardamir, let them play with the butterflies."
"But-"
"Vardamir, they are doing no harm."
Vardamir threw his hands in the air. "Fine." He stomped away, eagerly seeking out his other younger brother.
"Come on, Atanalcar, let's catch more butterflies," suggested his sister, pointing to the small creatures flying around.
"Yeah, butterflies sticky," he answered and romped off after her.
Elrond and Elros exchanged glances, trying to make the connection. "Why are the butterflies sticky?" asked Elros, narrowing his eyes.
"Gotchum!" Atanalcar had jumped into the air, and came down with two helpless orange and red wings, trying to beat their way out of his grasp in a most furious manner. "Squashum, squashum!" he screeched with delight.
"Oh-"
"-dear," finished Elrond for his brother as they ran over to the youngest of the children. Manwendil beat them, and was trying without success to pry Atanalcar's hands apart.
Fluff’n’Stuff: The Baby Blue Plot Bunnies
Orchard (excerpt)
“You head back to the border in just a few days.”
Erestor’s comment was a jolt back to reality for Glorfindel. “That is correct.”
“Hmm. Ever think about staying in the city and giving up the patrols?” wondered Erestor. They were lounging in the grass in a little glen near the house. Nearby was a basket of apples and another with plums. One of the few tasks performed by everyone during the week was the harvesting of the late season fruit before it was either taken by wild creatures or left rotting on the trees and bushes. It was done lazily by all involved, however, with everyone doing a little bit it did indeed get done.
“Sometimes. I like the solace, though. I also have a need to feel I am doing my part to protect the valley,” said Glorfindel. “Of course, there are some very good reasons for me to stay here all of the time.”
“I would think there would be.” And Erestor left it at that, for the sounds of two very frustrated children were advancing upon the pair. The dark ellon sat up, and seeing Arwen and her new playmate, waved them over.
Bounding across the grass and plopping down into Erestor’s lap, Arwen snuggled against her uncle. “Uncle Ressor,” she pouted, “Bolin wants to hurt the trees.”
“I ‘on’t want to ‘urt the trees,” defended the dwarfling, swinging his wooden toy axe back and forth. “I only wanted to reach the top o’ the trees. I was only joking.”
“He said we should just cut them down,” sobbed Arwen.
“I said cou’d! We COU’D cut them down,” the dwarfling argued.
Glorfindel was sitting up now as well. “I would advise against the cutting down of any trees around here.”
“I wou’d not really,” pouted the dwarfling, and there was nothing so sad as a dwarfling in the midst of a pout.
“We cannot get to any of the fruit in the trees. Everything is much too high for us!” exclaimed Arwen. She pointed to the baskets they had discarded some feet away. “They are empty! Ada will be so mad!”
“Oh, hush, no he will not,” scolded Erestor gently, wiping away Arwen’s tears with his sleeve. “Come now, where are these trees with fruit that is unreachable?”
“But we want to pick them, not you,” complained the little peredhel as she was lifted off of Erestor’s lap.
He nodded. “And you shall.” Hoisting up his own bushel basket, he held out his other hand for Arwen and the pair walked to the smaller baskets. “Pick up yours and take the other to your friend. And, I think you should apologize to him – he really is not going to cut down anything, trees or otherwise.”
Arwen bowed her head and nodded, then picked up the baskets. She raced with them back to the dwarfling and handed his to him. “I am sorry Bolin. Friends again?”
“Indeed, m’lady,” he said, which made Arwen giggle.
She ran back to Erestor to take hold of his hand again. “He called me a lady,” she said in a quiet voice. “I think he likes me.” She giggled again.
Erestor smiled and looked back over his shoulder at Glorfindel, who was smirking as well. The blond picked up his basket and followed the trio where Bolin led them.
“There it is,” sighed Arwen as they came to a lone peach tree hidden beneath some tall old oaks. “We found it this morning, but the branches are too thin to climb without hurting it, and Ada would not let us bring a ladder out here.”
“I have an idea,” said Erestor after he took a walk around the tree. Crouching down on the ground, he said to Arwen, “Remember when you would ride on my shoulders when you were smaller?”
“Oh, do I!” she exclaimed, and scrambled up onto his shoulders with her basket tight in her hand. “This is great!” she shouted happily when she was settled and Erestor was standing up again. “I can nearly reach the top.”
Bolin looked on wistfully as Arwen reached out and plucked a peach from the tree for her basket. He turned his head when he heard a chuckling tenor voice say, “I am not doing this for my health, you know.”
Although Bolin was quite a sturdy lad, he was not as heavy as Glorfindel thought he looked. He stood with the dwarfling on his shoulders with ease, and soon a peach picking competition had begun.
To Catch an Elf (excerpt)
“Sprinkle a little here... sprinkle a little there...” Merry directed Faramir as the lad took pinches of his fairy catching dust and rubbed it between his fingers and onto the ground.
“Merry,” said Faramir, “Why don’ we use yer fairy dust, too?”
“Ah, well we need that for when we see the elf,” Merry explained, patting the pouch that was tied to his belt. “For when we catch one, we’ll need to cover him in it, to freeze him.”
“What if we catch a her?” asked Faramir.
Merry shook his head and made a face. “Girl elfs are too wise for that, my Sam-dad says. The Lady Good-elf he met who gave him the big tree would never fall for something like fair folk catching dust. But lot’sa those boy elfs would.”
“Oh.” Faramir nodded in agreement with his wise friend.
A shriek rose up from where they had started their fair folk catching expedition, and Merry’s shoulders sagged. “That’s Goldie-girl makin’ a fuss. Pip’s prolly gone and upset her.” Faramir frowned with a great amount of concern written on his face, and the pair ran back to the clearing they had started in. “Wha’s wrong, Goldilocks?” asked Merry as he came to the aid of his sister.
“Pippin means to steal my fair folk catching dust, an’ he can’t have it!” Goldilocks was on the ground, being sat upon by her older and slightly bigger brother, one hand clutching the pouch her father had given her and the other protecting her hair.
“Oh, my’n what a mess! Pip!” Merry looked sternly at his brother. “Go’in get off her, now! Tha’s not nice!”
Pippin pouted and rose up off of Goldilocks, who shoved him further away and pouted herself. “Well if she’s not gonna use her dust, then I will!”
“She’s saving it, Pip!” Faramir said, stepping over to where Goldilocks was standing.
“I’m savin’ it, Pip-pin,” reiterated Goldilocks.
“An’one know, this tas’ like sweet cannies,” spoke Hamfast, who had been sucking on his fair folk catching dust-covered fist.
“Shh, Hammy!” Merry stood up on his tiptoes. “I heard som’thin’!” All of the hobbit children stood up on their tiptoes with their noses turned a bit upward so that all of them, except little Hamfast who remained on the ground, looked like a group of prairie dogs. “It’s a big people! I can see the top of his head!”
“A big people? Big people are banned!” Goldilocks looked ready to cry. “Da says, no big people ever come here,” she told Faramir, who took hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Quick! Hide!” Merry rounded up his younger siblings and pulled Hamfast behind a bush just as a big person and a stout person walked into the clearing.
- - -
“I swore I heard children,” mused Legolas. He and Gimli proceeded with caution as Legolas silently pointed to the various splotches of white that were upon the ground. As they came closer and closer to where the hobbits were hiding, Legolas crouched down and took an arrow from his quiver, poking at the powder with it. “How bizarre. It looks like some sort of plant disease.”
- - -
“How bizarre,” whispered Goldilocks to Faramir. “That man has pointed ears.”
Pippin practically jumped in the air. “He’s no man, then! He’s an elf!” Tugging on Faramir’s arm, Pippin pointed and said, “Use your dust on him!”
For a moment, Faramir stood frozen in his place with his mouth hanging open. When he saw Merry run out from his hiding spot and struggle to untie his pouch from his belt, Faramir took off full speed. “Merry, he’s mine! I saw ‘im first!” This was not quite true of course, but of the two, it was Faramir whose bag was open first and he frantically reached in taking pinches of dust and sprinkling them on the elf’s boots. Slowly, the tall one turned his head to regard his dwarven companion.
- - -
“Gimli, what’s going on?”
“Ah’m not sure,” said the dwarf. “But Ah know Ah am amused by it,” he chuckled.
Thoughts?
Here's what I'm thinking....
SLASH
Drops of dried blood covered Glorfindel’s arms by the time Turgon had given him the signal to hold. Terrible trails where the whip had left its mark marred Erestor’s once smooth, tanned flesh, and his long braid was draped over his shoulder, caked with blood. Sweat glistened on his skin, mingling with the rivers of red, but now as he panted heavily, he realized he had endured it all. Though worse than the last time, he had managed to keep his senses and not pass out.
Turgon stood before the Noldo now, shaking his head. “I sincerely hope in some way that this was worth it.” He did not look at Glorfindel as he passed by, but paused when he reached Ecthelion. “Leave him there, for three days. Lock the doors when you go.”
Ecthelion bowed as Turgon continued to the exit. In a panic, Glorfindel started after the king, but he was stopped by Ecthelion. The dark-haired ellon waited until the door had closed before he spoke. “What did I tell you about your actions, Glorfindel? Did I not say this is not the time nor the place to explore your personal feelings? Now look at what you have done.”
“You told him,” ground out Glorfindel, and Ecthelion made a sort of snorting sound in the back of his throat.
“You think I told him? You have so little trust in me that you think I would have told him? How long have I known? How long?” Ecthelion’s words rose up and echoed off of the high walls. “Damn you, Glorfindel. I treat you like my son, and you accuse me of such a thing.”
The blond had bowed his head shamefully, small sobs beginning to come from him. “I- am sorry- Thel, I-“
“Do not tell me you are sorry.” Ecthelion roughly grabbed hold of the younger elf’s arm, half-leading, half-dragging him to where Erestor was still strung up. “Tell him you are sorry,” he demanded, shoving Glorfindel down at Erestor’s feet.
“Erestor...” Glorfindel looked up into the tired brown eyes whose gaze was upon him. At once, he was brought to tears. “Erestor, I am so sorry, so very, very sorry,” he choked.
“I forgive you, Glorfindel, but you have no need to apologize. What I did I did freely,” responded Erestor between long drawn breaths of air.
“Tell him what it felt like, Erestor. Tell him what the whip he wielded did to you.” Ecthelion was still staring down at Glorfindel unsympathetically.
After a few pants and a gasp for air, Erestor lolled his head from side to side. “No, Thel. Not now.”
“Tell him,” growled Ecthelion. “Tell him what you felt each time the lash kissed your flesh.”
“Fin, knock it off.”
“Mmmmhh.”
“Glorfindel!” Erestor tugged at the sheet, but quickly realized that it was being drawn off of him not to the side, but from the bottom of the bed. Sitting up abruptly, he could now hear something of a worried sob coming from the floor. “Gwindor?”
Erestor stumbled off of the bed and found the elfling at the foot of it, one hand clutching the end of the sheet and his other holding his knee. He was shivering, and when Erestor gathered him into his arms, he found out he was damp, from sweating and crying and from what he was crying about.
“I tried to get out of bed, but I fell and then I didn’t make it,” explained Gwindor, but between his tears and his lisp, all Erestor understood was ‘bed’ and ‘fell’, as he carried the elfling to the washroom. Behind them trailed the sheet, Gwindor’s hand still holding it.
Sitting Gwindor down on the countertop, Erestor pulled the nightshirt off of the elfling over his head, loosening the grip he had on the sheet. “We’ll get you cleaned up, and then back to bed.”
Looking ready to cry again, Gwindor said, “I mean, I didn’t make it and then I fell.” This was more discernable, as was, “I knocked the chamber pot over, too.”
“You can sleep in bed with us, peanut.” Glorfindel entered the room, gathering up the trailing sheet as he made his way to them. Under his arm he had a fresh shirt for Gwindor and a towel. “If you get the water ready, I will give him a bath,” offered Glorfindel to Erestor.
Wanting to say, ‘You just don’t want to strip his bed’, Erestor simply nodded. He left Gwindor sitting on the counter as he began to fill the tub.
“Ada?”
“Yes, peanut?”
“When will you teach me to walk?”
Bowing his head, the tears fell from Erestor’s eyes into the basin as the water flowed into it. “Soon, Gwindor.”
“Tomorrow, maybe?” asked the elfling hopefully. “I think I could learn fast and then I would make it out of bed faster.”
Erestor reached down into the water as if he were testing it, splashing a handful up onto his face. “Maybe tomorrow,” replied the elf, hating himself for the false hope he gave the little one. He turned to find Gwindor grinning happily at him and smiled back, holding back his tears. Glorfindel came in again, handing a clean shirt to Erestor.
“You’re a little damp,” he whispered, “and I took care of his bed, if you can manage the floor.” To the elfling, Glorfindel said, “Well, now, shall we find your gulls, or is your toy boat good enough for right now?”
“Boat,” Gwindor decided as he was lifted off of the counter and lowered into the warm water.
When Glorfindel carried him into the bedroom, the elfling was jabbering about the sea and the beach and the waves and boats in between yawns. The minute he was settled in bed, he drifted asleep. “I propose we stay in bed late tomorrow,” Glorfindel said quietly, raising his hand as if calling for a vote. “All those in favor? Erestor?” Glorfindel frowned as his arm dropped. “Erestor, what’s wrong?”
Erestor’s arms covered his face, his hands fisted in his own hair. “When are we going to tell him? What are we going to do? I would carry him for a thousand years, but in five or ten he’s not going to want that. He wants to be normal. How do we tell him he isn’t?”
--------
As Glorfindel closed in, he took note of the scattered carnage. Normally, the remains were left and tilled into the soil come the late winter. Now, the seeds and pulp were strewn all over, the defined rows gone. The crop of the next year would prove interesting. “Feeling any better?” wondered Glorfindel as he approached.
“No.” Erestor kicked up a squash he had missed, and swung the staff around to meet it as it tried to fall to the ground. Pieces flew in every direction, skidding to a halt in the snow. A rancid cucumber faired no better. Glorfindel looked about and spied a long, straight branch on the ground, making little work of the twigs that were attached to it. Rolling his neck back and forth and to the sides as he walked to Erestor, he lifted the staff to tap him on the shoulder.
Still, he was ready for the blow. Erestor turned on his heel before Glorfindel could reach him, bringing the staff over his head and down. Glorfindel blocked, his branch held between both hands. “That was a dirty move,” he said, knees bent slightly as he fended off another swing of the wooden weapon.
“A warrior must be prepared for anything.”
“Indeed.” Glorfindel valted over Erestor, using his staff for leverage, landing on a patch of ice. He lowered himself to the ground, using the slippery surface to his advantage. He slid in a semicircle, his arm out to one side for balance while the other held his staff. Judging the distance, he swung his weapon toward Erestor’s legs, but the dark elf managed to take note of the move, and leaped back just in time.
On one hand, Glorfindel wanted to drop his weapon, draw Erestor into an embrace, and snuggle him until everything was alright. On the other hand, he knew that wasn’t going to make anything alright, and it wasn’t going to make Erestor feel alright. So instead, he crouched a bit lower to the ground, narrowed his eyes and said, “Are you giving up already?”
Anger flashed in Erestor’s eyes, temporarily. A look Glorfindel hadn’t seen since days long past in Rivendell, in a time when they were verbally at war with one another. “Your ass is mine,” growled Erestor.
Glorfindel grinned as he was once again attacked, the sounds of wood cracking and splintering rising up in the darkness. Only the light of the stars and moon guided them, and their own natural abilities. Snow sprayed as their feet kicked it up, and attacks came swifter and more brutally as Glorfindel’s muscles loosened up. “Is that your best?” he chided as the staff missed his head by inches.
Teeth were bared, and Erestor swung his weapon with full force at his opponent. The impact caused Glorfindel’s branch to be snapped in two, and knocked him a step back. Throwing the broken wood to the ground, he cracked his knuckles as Erestor twirled his staff before bringing it to rest at his side. “No weapon?”
“Don’t need one,” replied Glorfindel, crouching in a defensive position.
Erestor spun the staff again, then tossed it again. “Take your boots off,” he said, stepping out of his own.
“Why? Afraid they’ll leave a mark?”
“I don’t want to ruin them.”
Glorfindel snorted – even in battle, ever practical was Erestor. “There. Shall we?”
Erestor tossed his boots aside to where Glorfindel had thrown his. “No biting,” he added as an afterthought.
“No biting? My dear counselor, in war, there are no rules.” Glorfindel was now circling, getting closer, but not too close, looking for a weak spot.
Erestor gave him a wicked look. “Well, I meant not to hurt your fair skin, but if you insist-“
“Oh, not to hurt me? How kind. I decline the offer,” Glorfindel shot back.
“Suit yourself.” And Erestor pounced.
Glorfindel beckoned Erestor forward, crooking his finger and leering slightly. With a wicked smile, the scribe stood and slid the chair of his desk in before proceeding forward. His movement was slow as he approached, sensuous and graceful. With one final step, he stood directly before Glorfindel, who now held out the scroll to him.
“Read to me, darling,” insisted the captain. “I wish to hear what your muses have inspired you to create.”
Smile still in place, Erestor took the scroll. “Very well. It will be... a pleasure,” he drawled as he unrolled the parchment.
“Touch Me – Feel Me
Strip Me – Reveal Me”
Erestor paused as Glorfindel yanked him forward by the belt of his robe, both moving him closer and at the same time dismantling the garment enough that it fell open, displaying the tall, lean body of the dark elf. One leg shifted in front of the other, and Glorfindel placed his hands tenderly on Erestor’s neck, sliding down his shoulder to push away the material that blocked his full view.
“Your shy eyes give you away
You jump at the chance when I ask you to stay
Taste Me – Tease Me
Seize Me – Please Me”
There was a gasp, as Glorfindel closed in on his lover and began to sample the milky flesh that had been revealed to him. Still clothed, he pressed against Erestor, his erection rubbing satiny flesh, his hands gripping the firm backside. Erestor’s hand fisted the sheet on which the poem was written, and he did not look to it any longer. As it dropped from his grasp, he recited:
“Now your gentle caresses linger
Slip within, taunt with your finger”
Another cry rose from him, and Glorfindel had tested and found that his wily lover had prepared himself ahead of time. Not wishing to disappoint, he stroked and twisted, knowing just how to adjust and when to drive Erestor mad. It seemed to only serve him right, for having teased him with this poem all the long day.
HET
It had taken her very little time to remove what garments she did have on, which, to her dismay and pleasure, were a bit damp in certain areas. Her pout as she tossed her dress through the opened curtains caused Haldir to chuckle as he drew himself up enough to be in position to push her down onto the mattress.
With Elodien on her back, Haldir moved next to her and settled on his side, his right arm propped on the pillow and his hand kng hng his head up. leftleft hand snaked over her leg, dipping back into the silken folds: teasing, touching, caressing, and thrusting. All the while, Elodien gripped the bed sheets as the delicious torture continued, whimpering as she realized she did not know how to ask him for what she wanted.
Reaching one trembling hand to his less-occupied one, Elodien tried to place his upon her, but he pulled it away and grinned. "Baw," he said, and then came a long string of words Elodien did not know, after which he regarded her intensely, his eyes questioning. She whimpered and whined and even thrashed a bit when she found he intended to do nothing further. Again she reached for him, but Haldir shifted away and whispered the words again, and yet another sentence she could not comprehend, and then more, of which all she knew was her own name.
He did not cease his movement when she failed to respond, however, he did slow, and this only caused her frustration to build. "Ú-chenion!" she finally called out, desperately not wanting to give in. Pausing his current ministrations, Haldir bent over Elodien and kissed her nose, then licked his tongue over her lips as the fingers of his right hand moved lightly over her breasts. Elodien cried out, giving Haldir access to her mouth, and he repaid her fully for the earlier incident.
As her tongue was pulled into his mouth, her muffled cries were punctuated by a sudden muted gasp as he thrust his fingers deeper, and then stopped abruptly. Elodien regarded Haldir through her half-closed eyes, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he took hold of one of her hands in his, placed a kiss upon her wrist, and laid it upon her breast. He did the same with her other hand, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Tiriathon," he said slowly, letting the words linger. Elodien whimpered, shutting her eyes. She did not move her hands at first, opting to concentrate on what his hands were doing, but Haldir clicked his tongue and began to remove his damp fingers from down below. Immediately, Elodien complied with his request, massaging her own body as Haldir hovered over her and watched her movements. "Maer…" he said softly, leaning in to nip her earlobe, running his tongue along the curve.
Elodien's ministrations were timid at first, but soon she learned that the attention Haldir gave the rest of her body was directly proportional to the show she gave to him. Still too shy to open her eyes, she let her fingers stray to one swollen peak, and gasped when she realized how firm it was, and how sensual the feeling was that came from it.
Blushing, she moved back to safer territory, but she knew Haldir had seen and heard. She could not know his next move, but felt him as his cheek nudged her hands away. He took the rosy bud into his mouth, causing Elodien to cry out again as he flicked his tongue against her, his right hand tending to the opposite side, as her own hands dropped down into the bed sheets, fingers curled, gripping the fabric. She wanted to touch him, but the feel of his skin would make her lose what little restrain she had, and her intention had not been to sate only her own desire.
"Sedho a mibo nin," he said, and Elodien felt his hands leave her, and though she cried out, it was caught in his throat. She made no sound as he continued to silently, yet ardently kissed her, but her eyes widened in terror as she registered the sound he no doubt heard before she had.
Footsteps in the hall approaching their quarters, and the click of the handle on the main door leading to their rooms. Whether it was a maid, a friend, or perhaps even the master of the inn himself, they could not be certain. Unable to speak her frustration at the sudden intrusion, she pinched Haldir's arm instead and gave him a look that accused him of not locking the door.
"I love summer."
"I love summer more."
"I love summer most."
"I love--" Celebrían was halted from having to attempt something more than most. "Oh, that. That I love. Right there." Unconsciously she licked her lips as Elrond landed back on his feet after volleying the ball over the net. Orophin made a valiant attempt at hitting it as he jumped into the air, and Rúmil tried his best to save the game as he dove, sliding into the sand and unfortunately sending the ball bounding off toward the audience.
Ordinarily, Valarda would have participated in the sport, but when Elrond appeared that morning on the porch taking a mild interest in the activity on the beach, Celebrían rushed to where her brothers and Valarda were setting up the game net and begged the red head to sit out today. Elrond smiled and did not hesitate when Haldir waved him over as Valarda strolled off with Celebrían.
Picking up the ball as it rolled to her feet, Elodien glanced at her grandmother and said, "Odd as it sounds, I have to concur with you."
"Elodien!" hissed Valarda. "Eyes on the guys!"
Elodien quickly looked back to see Haldir taking a long drink from the wineskin that had been propped against the nearer pole of the net. A collective sigh resounded from all of the ladies. Moments later, Orophin tried to swipe the water from his brother, succeeding only in spilling some down the front of Haldir's shirt. His second attempt found them fighting over the wineskin, water splashing about.
"No, Rúmil! Bad!" Nenniach said as she watched her husband calm the two combatants. As soon as Rúmil's back was turned, Orophin, who had gained control of the wineskin, turned it upside down over his little brother's head. Clapping her hand over her mouth to keep her grin covered, eyes wide and feigning concern, she said, "Thank you, Orophin."
Valarda snorted and Celebrían bowed her head to laugh. Elodien nodded her approval to this, too. She looked at Haldir, who was standing and pointing at Rúmil, chuckling with Elrond as Orophin scuttled off grinning madly. Being the closest, Haldir was pounced by Rúmil and knocked to the ground.
"Oh, they're going to ruin their clothes if they keep this up," scolded Nenniach as she stood up.
"Excellent idea!" Valarda agreed slyly. "Naked elf watching. Tell my Orophin to take off his clothes while you're at it. He'll do it, too!"
Nenniach's jaw dropped, but she recovered quickly. "I am not asking for all of his clothes, only his tunic."
Standing Valarda said, "I bet I can get Orophin to take off more clothes with less words."
"I don't doubt it," laughed Nenniach as the pair walked off in the direction of the game. As they approached, the dark haired elleth put two fingers in her mouth and gave a shrill whistle, stopping the brawl that was about to begin had they not interrupted. As the elves scrambled to right themselves, Nenniach pointed at Rúmil's sand- stained tunic. "I'm here to take that before you ruin it."
Grumbling a bit, Rúmil pulled his tunic over his head and handed it to Nenniach as Valarda held out a hand to Orophin. "You, too," she said, adding, "And the pants."
"Why?" demanded Orophin, but he was already untying the string that held them up.
"Because I said so," Valarda kissed her husband after he had tossed his tunic and his pants over her arm.
Rúmil's brows were high above his eyes. "You wear red underwear?"
Orophin held up a hand. "Allow me to briefly explain myself." He struck a sensual pose and gave Valarda a pout, to which she smiled predatorily. "I look exceptional in red."
"Quite exceptional, you sexy thing," remarked Valarda.
Frowning, Rúmil pulled his leggings down and flung them in his own wife's direction. "I do well enough without fancy bright colors to lure my lady." He sauntered over to Nenniach, who hid her surprise well as he gripped her wrist and pulled her into his arms, crushing her against him as he sought out her lips with his.
"Oh, please, I can do much better." Orophin marched to Valarda, took hold of his clothes and threw them to the ground. She was in his embrace and then dipped low to the ground as he imitated a passionate kiss.
"Aiya, Elbereth!" Celebrían fanned herself with her hand as she watched her sister-in-law return. "I can so easily forget they are my brothers and just enjoy the view."
"So you thought thieving was a good idea, did you? You've been listening to too many of Bilbo's tales in the Halls after dark." His breath was hot on her pointed ear, and he flicked out his tongue. "Tell me, what is it like to take something which does not belong to you?"
Arwen tilted her head up in defiance. "He may be your horse, but is it not my father's valley, and does not everything in his valley come under his rule?"
Glorfindel's eyes narrowed, as he drew back a little, his hands still clutching Arwen's wrists, holding them against the wooden wall of the stable, high above her head. "His rule. Not yours. You took my horse without permission."
"And brought him back."
"Not the point." He stepped closer to her, his voice deepening. "You have your own steed, faster and greater than my own. Why did you take mine, knowing my wrath would come upon you, if that was not what you had hoped for?" She continued to gaze past him, her rebellious nature forever present upon her face. "Defy me like a child and you shall be treated as one," he told her, and without warning swiftly turned her face the wall.
He still held her hands as high as he could with one of his own. Her cheek pressed against the weathered wood as the first blow hit her backside. His open hand made contact with her rear nine more times. The first time she had cried out in surprise, but now she gasped and felt herself moving toward the impact. He wasn't spanking her very hard, but the thrusts of her hips back made them harder than he intended so that she was panting when he turned her back around.
"Don't let it happen again," he warned, his finger nearly touching her nose as he pointed it at her. He let her wrists go and turned to leave.
"Aren't you going to finish what you started?"
Glorfindel looked over his shoulder to see Arwen backed up against the wall, her hands pressed against the wooden panel at either side of her. Her head was turned to the side, and she was looking downwards, for the first time ever that he could recall in her adult life, looking passive. "I'm finished. Don't let it happen again." Once more he turned to go.
"Don't you want to know what it's like to take something that does not belong to you?" Glorfindel stopped dead in his tracks, but did not turn to look at Arwen as she continued. "It's thrilling, I assure you. The rush of it. That you could get caught."
"You think he would catch me?" Slowly, Glorfindel went to the door of the barn and locked it. From a peg on the wall he lifted a rope as he passed. He stretched out the rope between his hands. "You think I would let him catch me?"
"I could scream," she said to him, shivering as her eyes met his.
He swung one end of the rope up over the rafters, catching it again as it came down. "You will scream. My name." His words were a low growl, and he motioned that she should approach him, smiling when she looked back to some distance point in the ceiling and stood her ground.
Okay, I feel pretty good on those above ones, unless someone can think of something where I should definitely have x instead of y. For the gen ones, I'm not so sure... I thought it would be cute to do a little of everybody (elves, men, hobbits, dwarves), but not sure those are my best gen works...
GEN
Elfling Chronicles: Stargazing (excerpt)
Elrond settled his head in the grass, content to leave his brother to find what they were looking for. His eyelids were drooping by the time he heard, "I found it! I found it! There he is!" Elros was happily pointing up at a bright light above, that to many others would have seemed an ordinary star. Turning his head to address his slightly younger brother, he said, "Look, he's winking at us!"
The light in the sky flashed twice more, and Elrond looked up in awe as Elros grinned and giggled. "Nana must be up there with him tonight, he usually only winks once. I think the other one is from her."
In matched voices, the twins called up to the sky, "Love you, Nana! Love you, Ada!" The star blinked again, but slower and more lovingly at the pair of elflings in the grass.
For a little while they watched the sky darken and the stars shine more brightly as their bedtime slowly approached. Their 'Uncle Maglor' as they called the elf who was their surrogate father had yet to call them to bed, and likely he had been persuaded to sing another tune before the adults retired as well. Whatever the reason, the youngsters were glad for this extra time, however brief, to think quietly to themselves under the watchful eyes of their parents far above in the heavens.
Always Tell Me First
"Uncle Elrond! Uncle Elrond!" Tindomiel and Atanalcar rushed through the grass, tearing a path in their wake. The tall elf stooped down so that he was eyelevel to them when they nearly ran him over. "Uncle Elrond, Vardamir said me and Atanalcar can't chase those butterflies no more," pouted Tindomiel. "He said we was going to be hit and he would do the hitting if we did it."
"Tindomiel, please, don't shout," Elrond said calmly. "And child, once again, Atanalcar and I, not and me and most definitely not me and," he corrected. Tindomiel made a noise that sounded not unlike a growling dog, and Elrond frowned. "Furthermore, double negatives are not proper. You used can't and no more in a sentence and you can't do that."
"You mean, she can't do that no more," Atanalcar half-babbled, his eyes watching another butterfly flitter closer and closer to them.
"Atanalcar, no!" Vardamir jogged over, his awkward near-teen form taking great loping strides, and easily crossing the distance to his siblings. "I said no, Atanalcar!" shouted Vardamir, his fists balled up as Atanalcar made a swipe for the fluttering creature. Elrond put his hand to one ear and heard the laughter of his brother behind him. Standing up, Elrond tried to manage a smile.
Although twins, the raucous did not so much affect Elros as it did Elrond, nor would anyone have known them to be twins to see them. If anything, one might almost mistake Elros, with his dark close-cut beard and shorter hair, fuller cheeks and slightly crinkling skin to be the father of five and not four, the eldest of which was just now become a man, lean and tall, and with sensitive hearing.
This, however, was not the case, and Elrond waved his free hand in the general direction of the children. "You're the father, I'll leave you to figure it out," he sighed, still cupping his injured ear. His twin, elder by mere minutes, laughed heartily, and leaned forward, his hands propped on his knees. "Vardamir, let them play with the butterflies."
"But-"
"Vardamir, they are doing no harm."
Vardamir threw his hands in the air. "Fine." He stomped away, eagerly seeking out his other younger brother.
"Come on, Atanalcar, let's catch more butterflies," suggested his sister, pointing to the small creatures flying around.
"Yeah, butterflies sticky," he answered and romped off after her.
Elrond and Elros exchanged glances, trying to make the connection. "Why are the butterflies sticky?" asked Elros, narrowing his eyes.
"Gotchum!" Atanalcar had jumped into the air, and came down with two helpless orange and red wings, trying to beat their way out of his grasp in a most furious manner. "Squashum, squashum!" he screeched with delight.
"Oh-"
"-dear," finished Elrond for his brother as they ran over to the youngest of the children. Manwendil beat them, and was trying without success to pry Atanalcar's hands apart.
Fluff’n’Stuff: The Baby Blue Plot Bunnies
Orchard (excerpt)
“You head back to the border in just a few days.”
Erestor’s comment was a jolt back to reality for Glorfindel. “That is correct.”
“Hmm. Ever think about staying in the city and giving up the patrols?” wondered Erestor. They were lounging in the grass in a little glen near the house. Nearby was a basket of apples and another with plums. One of the few tasks performed by everyone during the week was the harvesting of the late season fruit before it was either taken by wild creatures or left rotting on the trees and bushes. It was done lazily by all involved, however, with everyone doing a little bit it did indeed get done.
“Sometimes. I like the solace, though. I also have a need to feel I am doing my part to protect the valley,” said Glorfindel. “Of course, there are some very good reasons for me to stay here all of the time.”
“I would think there would be.” And Erestor left it at that, for the sounds of two very frustrated children were advancing upon the pair. The dark ellon sat up, and seeing Arwen and her new playmate, waved them over.
Bounding across the grass and plopping down into Erestor’s lap, Arwen snuggled against her uncle. “Uncle Ressor,” she pouted, “Bolin wants to hurt the trees.”
“I ‘on’t want to ‘urt the trees,” defended the dwarfling, swinging his wooden toy axe back and forth. “I only wanted to reach the top o’ the trees. I was only joking.”
“He said we should just cut them down,” sobbed Arwen.
“I said cou’d! We COU’D cut them down,” the dwarfling argued.
Glorfindel was sitting up now as well. “I would advise against the cutting down of any trees around here.”
“I wou’d not really,” pouted the dwarfling, and there was nothing so sad as a dwarfling in the midst of a pout.
“We cannot get to any of the fruit in the trees. Everything is much too high for us!” exclaimed Arwen. She pointed to the baskets they had discarded some feet away. “They are empty! Ada will be so mad!”
“Oh, hush, no he will not,” scolded Erestor gently, wiping away Arwen’s tears with his sleeve. “Come now, where are these trees with fruit that is unreachable?”
“But we want to pick them, not you,” complained the little peredhel as she was lifted off of Erestor’s lap.
He nodded. “And you shall.” Hoisting up his own bushel basket, he held out his other hand for Arwen and the pair walked to the smaller baskets. “Pick up yours and take the other to your friend. And, I think you should apologize to him – he really is not going to cut down anything, trees or otherwise.”
Arwen bowed her head and nodded, then picked up the baskets. She raced with them back to the dwarfling and handed his to him. “I am sorry Bolin. Friends again?”
“Indeed, m’lady,” he said, which made Arwen giggle.
She ran back to Erestor to take hold of his hand again. “He called me a lady,” she said in a quiet voice. “I think he likes me.” She giggled again.
Erestor smiled and looked back over his shoulder at Glorfindel, who was smirking as well. The blond picked up his basket and followed the trio where Bolin led them.
“There it is,” sighed Arwen as they came to a lone peach tree hidden beneath some tall old oaks. “We found it this morning, but the branches are too thin to climb without hurting it, and Ada would not let us bring a ladder out here.”
“I have an idea,” said Erestor after he took a walk around the tree. Crouching down on the ground, he said to Arwen, “Remember when you would ride on my shoulders when you were smaller?”
“Oh, do I!” she exclaimed, and scrambled up onto his shoulders with her basket tight in her hand. “This is great!” she shouted happily when she was settled and Erestor was standing up again. “I can nearly reach the top.”
Bolin looked on wistfully as Arwen reached out and plucked a peach from the tree for her basket. He turned his head when he heard a chuckling tenor voice say, “I am not doing this for my health, you know.”
Although Bolin was quite a sturdy lad, he was not as heavy as Glorfindel thought he looked. He stood with the dwarfling on his shoulders with ease, and soon a peach picking competition had begun.
To Catch an Elf (excerpt)
“Sprinkle a little here... sprinkle a little there...” Merry directed Faramir as the lad took pinches of his fairy catching dust and rubbed it between his fingers and onto the ground.
“Merry,” said Faramir, “Why don’ we use yer fairy dust, too?”
“Ah, well we need that for when we see the elf,” Merry explained, patting the pouch that was tied to his belt. “For when we catch one, we’ll need to cover him in it, to freeze him.”
“What if we catch a her?” asked Faramir.
Merry shook his head and made a face. “Girl elfs are too wise for that, my Sam-dad says. The Lady Good-elf he met who gave him the big tree would never fall for something like fair folk catching dust. But lot’sa those boy elfs would.”
“Oh.” Faramir nodded in agreement with his wise friend.
A shriek rose up from where they had started their fair folk catching expedition, and Merry’s shoulders sagged. “That’s Goldie-girl makin’ a fuss. Pip’s prolly gone and upset her.” Faramir frowned with a great amount of concern written on his face, and the pair ran back to the clearing they had started in. “Wha’s wrong, Goldilocks?” asked Merry as he came to the aid of his sister.
“Pippin means to steal my fair folk catching dust, an’ he can’t have it!” Goldilocks was on the ground, being sat upon by her older and slightly bigger brother, one hand clutching the pouch her father had given her and the other protecting her hair.
“Oh, my’n what a mess! Pip!” Merry looked sternly at his brother. “Go’in get off her, now! Tha’s not nice!”
Pippin pouted and rose up off of Goldilocks, who shoved him further away and pouted herself. “Well if she’s not gonna use her dust, then I will!”
“She’s saving it, Pip!” Faramir said, stepping over to where Goldilocks was standing.
“I’m savin’ it, Pip-pin,” reiterated Goldilocks.
“An’one know, this tas’ like sweet cannies,” spoke Hamfast, who had been sucking on his fair folk catching dust-covered fist.
“Shh, Hammy!” Merry stood up on his tiptoes. “I heard som’thin’!” All of the hobbit children stood up on their tiptoes with their noses turned a bit upward so that all of them, except little Hamfast who remained on the ground, looked like a group of prairie dogs. “It’s a big people! I can see the top of his head!”
“A big people? Big people are banned!” Goldilocks looked ready to cry. “Da says, no big people ever come here,” she told Faramir, who took hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Quick! Hide!” Merry rounded up his younger siblings and pulled Hamfast behind a bush just as a big person and a stout person walked into the clearing.
- - -
“I swore I heard children,” mused Legolas. He and Gimli proceeded with caution as Legolas silently pointed to the various splotches of white that were upon the ground. As they came closer and closer to where the hobbits were hiding, Legolas crouched down and took an arrow from his quiver, poking at the powder with it. “How bizarre. It looks like some sort of plant disease.”
- - -
“How bizarre,” whispered Goldilocks to Faramir. “That man has pointed ears.”
Pippin practically jumped in the air. “He’s no man, then! He’s an elf!” Tugging on Faramir’s arm, Pippin pointed and said, “Use your dust on him!”
For a moment, Faramir stood frozen in his place with his mouth hanging open. When he saw Merry run out from his hiding spot and struggle to untie his pouch from his belt, Faramir took off full speed. “Merry, he’s mine! I saw ‘im first!” This was not quite true of course, but of the two, it was Faramir whose bag was open first and he frantically reached in taking pinches of dust and sprinkling them on the elf’s boots. Slowly, the tall one turned his head to regard his dwarven companion.
- - -
“Gimli, what’s going on?”
“Ah’m not sure,” said the dwarf. “But Ah know Ah am amused by it,” he chuckled.
Thoughts?
