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excited about HP in 2 h 21 m 
Elvish
To which race of Middle Earth do you belong?
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Harry Potter Personality Quiz by Pirate Monkeys Inc.
You're a Plot writer!
What kind of writer are you?
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(Feanor was not an option)
Legolas
Who is your Ideal Lord of the Rings (male) Mate?
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And now for the drabbles...
splash, orange, weapon, fortify
The flames leap up, bright orange against the black night. I hear splashes in the water and turn my head away, willing the screams to stop.
I see my father, the fire that consumes the ships reflected in his eyes; for a moment hiding the haunted expression he’s worn since he heard of his own father’s demise.
I ask him if he roused my brother. He drops his weapon and closes his eyes. I know the answer before he speaks. His words are pained, for what can fortify his spirit now that he has killed my brother, his own son?
forge (as a verb!), friendship, cradle, tabletop
Their friendship would be sung of for ages to come, forged during the hardships of the Quest, right up and into the fires of Mordor. It was not the future they spoke of now, but the past, as they sat on the rock which rose above the molten river like a tabletop, clinging to each other as they did not cling to hope; knowing though their time was over, their sacrifice allowed the world to go on.
Cradling his friend in his arms, the one brave little hobbit felt tears sting his eyes.
“Do you remember the Shire, Mr. Frodo?”
Music, cheese, smile, limit
“Hey,” Pip yelled through a mouthful, “that piece of bread was mine.”
“Was not,” Merry answered, “you took the last piece of cheese.”
“You could have offered to share.” Pip pouted at his older cousin. “At least ‘til I was full.”
Merry laughed as he bit into the coveted slice. “Your appetite knows no limits Pip. Were I to wait for you to finish, I would starve.”
“You? Starve?” Pippin snickered. “Not while Farmer Maggot has a fresh crop.”
Merry shoved the last of the bread into his mouth and winked at Pippin. “Shall we?”
“Music to my ears, Merry.”
tradition, jewel, reverence, acquiesce
Curse the Valar.
Their thralls are we, and naught else despite what lies they spin. Their traditions they expect us to uphold, yet they care not for our wishes, they laugh in their high thrones at our desire for freedom as a parent may laugh at the whims of a child. They respect us not, but expect us to bow to them in reverence and acquiesce to their every request.
Are we not the Children of Illuvatar? How dare they when they can not prevent one of their own from destroying the Trees, murdering my father and raping my jewels.
escape, knife, shadow, tear
For me, there is no escape.
Tears can not drown my pain, nor can time diminish it. Like a knife it slices through my being, tearing away pieces of my fea.
His absence is a shadow on my heart, and with it I have to bear the hollowness of having lost my sons as well.
Is this punishment for my strength? I am one of two women who loved him, should I have taken the same path the other chose? Had I not been able to withstand his passions, would I now be granted rest?
No, for me, no escape.
glass, duty, inconceivable, circumspect
“Perhaps, dear Pip, a wizard would call the glass half full.”
Gandalf puffed at his pipe. It was inconceivable that the two young Hobbits would turn their conversation to philosophy, but here they were, dutifully washing dishes, their punishment for not being circumspect when it came to his fireworks, and having the glass-half-empty conversation.
“I don’t know, Merry. Perhaps we should ask him how he views the glass.”
Both pairs of eyes turned to him and both sets of hands stopped washing. Gandalf picked up the glass, drank the remaining ale, and tossed it into the water.
“Nice going, Pip.”
mark, orders, wind, strength
“Do you ever miss your mark, young prince?”
Legolas’s raised eyebrow was the only indication he heard the Marchwarden as he pulled his bowstring tighter. If he could ignore the voice of the wind singing in the trees after so many nights in the vile pit of Moria, he could ignore Haldir’s taunts.
“Your strength will fail you. You have weakened, taking orders from a mortal.”
With a twang, the bow released and Legolas spun on Haldir. Without glancing at the path of his arrow, he was sure of it’s target.
“You have failed, Haldir. I have bested you again.”
I will not post the name, but the request...
"I was going to try and think up a very clever and unusual request, but now I don't wanna. I am stuck in a rut and so predictable. Give me Aragorn/Thorongil/Estel/Elessar in any way, shape, or form. Show him being silly, or lover-ly, or noble, or confronting some unusual experience, or meeting someone, or... well, anything. Thanks!"
I was ten the first time I saw a Hobbit.
I remember it vividly. Elrohir and I were having a swordfight and I was winning. Gandalf came to Imladris with a company of Dwarves. That Gandalf, he always traveled with the strangest crowd.
Then I saw him, lagging behind the last, rather large dwarf. He was not a dwarf, for he had no beard, and he went barefoot, displaying the hairiest feet I had ever seen.
Who would have guessed that one of them would save the world seventy five years later, and that I would travel with his Company?
"I'd love (to be predictable) Aragon and Legolas friendship. Book or movieverse is fine by me. If that's not your cup of tea then how about either Boromir and Theodred or Boromir and Faramir? No slash please."
“I thought to find you here.”
The Elf knew who approached before he even heard the voice. Aragorn stood beside the white tree, the reflection of starlight in his eyes despite the worried crease of his brow.
“You need not remain.”
Legolas raised an eyebrow. “Your celebration has but started.”
“You know what I speak of, Legolas. You stay for me, and Gimli, yet your heart has already departed. Follow it, if you must, for I know the call of the sea is strong.”
Legolas approached Aragorn and clasped his shoulder. “Not as strong as my love for my friends.”
"My birthday is the 7th June and I am a major Eowyn fan, so I would love anything about her - particularly if it is set after the destruction of the Ring."
When I look at him, I see a shadow in his eyes, but it lifts as soon as he sees me. So much has he lost; so much have we both lost.
I always imagined myself having to be strong in order to endure a life as someone’s wife, and it turns out to be true, but not in the way I had thought. We must be strong for each other, and fill the void left in both of our hearts by this war.
He says he finds his strength in me. I know I now find mine in him.
"Since my June is going to be dominated by music (as in 10 Duran Duran concerts in 3 weeks, in case anyone's interested) I would like to see a drabble about music. Preferably LotR-based since I have neither read The Hobbit or the Silm. Extra points if it features a live Boromir." and "I would love to see some Boromir drabbles. It's hard to narrow down what I want to something specific, since Boromir anything is just what I like -- Boromir and hobbits, Boromir and Faramir, Boromir being noble and heroic, etc. etc. But if someone is feeling adventurous, why not try giving me some pre-Ring Quest drabbles of Boromir visiting Rohan or Boromir interacting with Gandalf or even Saruman -- extra points if you can get Faramir and a non-movie!verse Denethor in there."
“Someone approaches, my lord.”
Boromir stirred from the light sleep into which he had fallen. They had left Gondor that morning so it could be one of their own, but there was always the possibility of encountering an enemy, even this early in a journey.
An old man, judging by his haggard appearance and his gait, with the hood of his cloak pulled over his head entered the camp. Definitely not a Gondorian soldier, thought Boromir.
“Would you be so kind as to allow an old harper rest, in exchange for a song.”
Boromir eyed the minstrel warily. “Pull down your hood, old man, so we might see your face. If you are friend, you may stay, but leave off singing, for we travel through dangerous lands.
The old man laughed, a sound at odds with his appearance, for it was the light tinkling laugh of the young. “Dangerous lands? You know not danger.”
He sat on the ground next to Boromir and removed his hood. Boromir found himself staring into the fair face of one of the Firstborn. Faramir should be here, he thought with a pang of regret.
“Allow me to play you a song,” he said, pulling a small harp out of his pack, “in exchange for a message brought to Elrond, whom you travel to see.”
Boromir held out a hand. “No singing, please, my lord.”
The Elf strummed one chord, beautiful in its dissonance, which sent shivers down Boromir’s spine. “Very well, young soldier, but I think you might have liked to hear one song.”
The Elf struggled to his feet. “But since not, heed what I say. Do what you ought, but swear no oaths.” With that, he departed, leaving Boromir and his company in a state of unease the rest of the night.
"I would love (if possible) either an Erestor/Glorfindel thing, very sweet and cuddly, or something very romantic and cute about any couple?"
I hear his string of curses long before I reach the stables. When I saw the young lady Arwen this morning, I knew something was amiss by the devious gleam in her eye. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined her audacity would reach this far.
He hears me approach and whirls around, the fire in his eyes almost as bright as the sun gleaming off his hair.
“She has taken him, Erestor! She has taken Asfaloth.”
That she has, but had she not, he would be long gone.
“Come, Glorfindel. Mayhap she has done us a favor.”
"I'm a true Gemini (split personality and all! hehehe) So if someone can do a naughty NC-17 drabble with me and the Half-elven twins (Elladan and Elrohir), I would love it....*GRINS*"
Elrohir and I relax under the shade of Imladris’s trees. She approaches; I know she believes us to be asleep. Her attack will be swift, but we wait in anticipation for it.
She pounces and with the quickness of years of hunting together, Elrohir and I pin her to the ground.
“You thought to surprise us, Edhellana?”
Elrohir has already stripped his shirt off and within moments Edhellana receives her punishment for sneaking up on two elves. She moans as she wrestles with my brother. It is only a matter of time until he tires, when I shall take over.
July 16 2005, 03:00:39 UTC 6 years ago
Arwen stole his horse.
*snort*
And I love the "Hobbit" drabble with Aragorn & Bilbo. :-D