I wrote this story 6 years ago, long before discovering Supernatural, back when my passion was writing Lord of the Rings' stories. This one was one of the shortest ones I wrote, an experiment for me, trying my hand at first person POVs. When I realized that I had never posted it in LJ, I decided to dust if off and post it. At the time, it was one ( Read more... )

Like a careful mother, treading on tip toes, the day came slowly and smoothly, not wanting to frighten away too harshly the dwellers of the night.

The sun lazily stretched out its bright arms, at once seeming to want to embrace all of Arda. To Cottoncrow too, this day, its warmth reached.

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Gimli would never admit it to a living soul, but he was growing to dislike these caves. Unlike the caves at his home, that were strong and well formed, or Aglarond, the Rohanian Glittering caves, whose beauty was enough to amaze all that lay eyes upon them, these caves had neither the strength nor the beauty to amaze anyone.

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A sort of uneasy truce had been reached between elves, humans and dwarves.

The king’s first instinct would always be one of distrust towards the dwarven kind. It wasn’t even personal; it was merely something that, by now, was part of his inner being. To struggle against it would be as difficult as preventing the sun from setting. It just was.

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The sun had finally rose high enough to chase some of the darkness of the night away.

Despite everyone’s insistence for him to take some rest, Gimli had been unable to close his eyes for long enough to allow sleep to come. Every time his lids would close, his mind would rebel and insist on filling him with bubbling and chaotic images and thoughts, ( Read more... )

When Gimli and Alumna reached Bomieth’ side, they were left a little confused. They could not see to whom he was shouting at, all that they could see was an old man acting like he had lost his mind.

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Gorath felt like one of those heroes from ancient times, those sang in the folklore songs, courageously facing foes much stronger than themselves.

He had told his family that he would be standing guard over Samuel, but silently he was telling them that they needed not worry, because he would make sure that no harm ever came to them.

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Bomieth saw the panic that filled the dwarf’s eyes and, understanding that the elf’s condition was serious, quickly called two guards to help. Between them, Legolas was rushed to the nearest house.

The house’s owner, a small man with a balding head, came to door at Bomieth’s calling, but he seemed none too happy with what was being asked of him.

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Gimli’s plan was as simple as it was ingenious. As certain as they were that the underground river was the same fedding Cottoncrow’s well and was making everyone sick, they were also sure that no one would take their word on it.

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Alumna knew that the dwarf had been hiding something of importance from her, but never had it crossed her mind that it would be something like this.
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