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zhieStory Name: Whispers
Author: Zhie
Fandom: Tolkien
C/CP: House of Finwe
Prompt Word: (153) Threat ; (154) Meet ; (167) Dance ; (171) Breed ; (177) Eye-Liner
Summaries: Threat - Fingolfin, Finarfin re: Feanor; Meet - Finrod, Amarie; Dance - Fingolfin, Anaire re: Fingon; Breed - Fingon, Ereinion re: Galadaurien; Eye-Liner - Aredhel, Fingon
Word Count: 125 each
Rating: G to PG on these; NC17 eventually for series
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I'm just playing in the sandbox. I promise to return them when done, without too much sand in their boots.
THREAT
“Then he blocked my way and pointed his blade at me. I knew he had a temper, but honestly, there was no reason for it.” Fingolfin was pacing back and forth while his brother quietly sat and listened. “I swear, he is going mad.”
“Do you think he would have hurt you, if there had been no witnesses?” asked Finarfin.
Fingolfin continued to wear his path into the rug. “His behavior worries me.”
“But do you think he would kill you?”
“With how he has been acting... the look in his eyes... it would not surprise me if he were to kill one of his own sons.”
“It could not be that bad, Fingolfin,” murmured Finarfin.
Fingolfin frowned. “I think our brother has gone mad.”
MEET
My brothers and sister have found their matches, or so it seems. Some of my cousins have found lovers and spouses as well; some have found each other. I wonder when I shall find my other half. Will we cross paths accidentally, or will my mother meddle and plan our meeting? Is she a close friend, or an acquaintance yet undiscovered? Will she be pale, with dark hair like the depths of the sea, or a daughter of Laurelin’s light, fair of skin with golden hair and sky-blue eyes?
Idle thoughts cloud my mind, and I nearly miss the lady traveling the opposite way. My arm knocks her basket, and I stop and smile my apology. She smiles back at me; my question is answered.
DANCE
After the other couple passed by, Fingolfin said to his wife in a lowered voice, “She only asked you what Turgon was doing; you did not need to embarrass yourself about Fingon.”
“What is so embarrassing about what he does? He is a beautiful dancer.”
“That is just it,” hissed Fingolfin. “I never expected to hear the word beautiful used to describe my son, or anything he does. Did you see the looks on their faces? No one understands what it is he does. They all think the same thing: Eldest son of Fingolfin, a dancer?”
“They are not the ones who need to understand,” countered Anaire before leaving her husband standing alone in the marketplace. “You are the only one who needs to understand.”
BREED
Light fades and I tuck the blanket around my sleeping son. Although the nurse could do this when I leave, it seems right for me to tend to Ereinion what little I can. My schedule allows so few moments to see him, or his mother.
I look across the room, past the rocking chair and changing table to the alcove where my wife sleeps. A bond of marriage and binding through the birth of our son, and still, her presence does little to comfort me; her purpose little more than the means of bearing an heir. Like the mares used for breeding, she no longer enjoys the bliss of freedom or the joys of freewill. My heart aches for what I am putting her through.
EYE-LINER
Fingon leaned against the door of his sister’s room. “Can I come in here?”
“Turgon annoying you?” asked Aredhel. When Fingon nodded, she patted an empty spot on the vanity bench. He came in and sat down. “You should ask Ada for your own room.”
Fingon shrugged and watched his sister concentrate on her reflection as she applied rouge. “What do you do with this?” he asked as he picked up a small black stick wrapped in linen from a tray on the counter.
“Here, let me show you.” Aredhel took the item from him. Holding his chin, she used used the makeup to accent his eyes. “There. Take a look.”
“Oh... I like it,” he grinned.
“Do NOT let Ada see it,” warned Aredhel.
Author: Zhie
Fandom: Tolkien
C/CP: House of Finwe
Prompt Word: (153) Threat ; (154) Meet ; (167) Dance ; (171) Breed ; (177) Eye-Liner
Summaries: Threat - Fingolfin, Finarfin re: Feanor; Meet - Finrod, Amarie; Dance - Fingolfin, Anaire re: Fingon; Breed - Fingon, Ereinion re: Galadaurien; Eye-Liner - Aredhel, Fingon
Word Count: 125 each
Rating: G to PG on these; NC17 eventually for series
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I'm just playing in the sandbox. I promise to return them when done, without too much sand in their boots.
THREAT
“Then he blocked my way and pointed his blade at me. I knew he had a temper, but honestly, there was no reason for it.” Fingolfin was pacing back and forth while his brother quietly sat and listened. “I swear, he is going mad.”
“Do you think he would have hurt you, if there had been no witnesses?” asked Finarfin.
Fingolfin continued to wear his path into the rug. “His behavior worries me.”
“But do you think he would kill you?”
“With how he has been acting... the look in his eyes... it would not surprise me if he were to kill one of his own sons.”
“It could not be that bad, Fingolfin,” murmured Finarfin.
Fingolfin frowned. “I think our brother has gone mad.”
MEET
My brothers and sister have found their matches, or so it seems. Some of my cousins have found lovers and spouses as well; some have found each other. I wonder when I shall find my other half. Will we cross paths accidentally, or will my mother meddle and plan our meeting? Is she a close friend, or an acquaintance yet undiscovered? Will she be pale, with dark hair like the depths of the sea, or a daughter of Laurelin’s light, fair of skin with golden hair and sky-blue eyes?
Idle thoughts cloud my mind, and I nearly miss the lady traveling the opposite way. My arm knocks her basket, and I stop and smile my apology. She smiles back at me; my question is answered.
DANCE
After the other couple passed by, Fingolfin said to his wife in a lowered voice, “She only asked you what Turgon was doing; you did not need to embarrass yourself about Fingon.”
“What is so embarrassing about what he does? He is a beautiful dancer.”
“That is just it,” hissed Fingolfin. “I never expected to hear the word beautiful used to describe my son, or anything he does. Did you see the looks on their faces? No one understands what it is he does. They all think the same thing: Eldest son of Fingolfin, a dancer?”
“They are not the ones who need to understand,” countered Anaire before leaving her husband standing alone in the marketplace. “You are the only one who needs to understand.”
BREED
Light fades and I tuck the blanket around my sleeping son. Although the nurse could do this when I leave, it seems right for me to tend to Ereinion what little I can. My schedule allows so few moments to see him, or his mother.
I look across the room, past the rocking chair and changing table to the alcove where my wife sleeps. A bond of marriage and binding through the birth of our son, and still, her presence does little to comfort me; her purpose little more than the means of bearing an heir. Like the mares used for breeding, she no longer enjoys the bliss of freedom or the joys of freewill. My heart aches for what I am putting her through.
EYE-LINER
Fingon leaned against the door of his sister’s room. “Can I come in here?”
“Turgon annoying you?” asked Aredhel. When Fingon nodded, she patted an empty spot on the vanity bench. He came in and sat down. “You should ask Ada for your own room.”
Fingon shrugged and watched his sister concentrate on her reflection as she applied rouge. “What do you do with this?” he asked as he picked up a small black stick wrapped in linen from a tray on the counter.
“Here, let me show you.” Aredhel took the item from him. Holding his chin, she used used the makeup to accent his eyes. “There. Take a look.”
“Oh... I like it,” he grinned.
“Do NOT let Ada see it,” warned Aredhel.
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no subject
Date: 2008-04-13 04:51 am (UTC)Also, I like the one with my character in it. =)
no subject
Date: 2008-04-13 11:27 pm (UTC)Dance was much the same - well-written with a nice message at the end.
Eye-liner made me burst into giggles. I often wonder what sort of make-up elves used, if any. Though I think if elves used make-up, I'd have to slap them. It's be kind of like those people you meet who are so gorgeous, and they put make-up on and it's like "oh please, like you need to bother with that!"