(no subject)
I've now written a first-line drabble for baranduin (first line hers)
Sometimes Faramir and Frodo cannot seem to get things right between them in the night. Frodo has never been one to cuddle. After the love, that pleasant throb that fills Faramir deep and makes him want to hold his darling close, Frodo twists out of his grip. How it wrings Faramir's heart when Frodo pushes away and makes space -- wider and more barren than the plains of Gorgoroth.
Frodo knows it hurts him, but he cannot help the darkness that fills his heart each night, after Faramir falls into sleep. He cannot bear it that even with strong arms holding him close, even with the reassuring thud of Faramir's heart, the darkness still creeps in, chilling him to his bones. That is his to bear alone.
I've written a first-line drabble for trianne (first line hers)
The floors of Minas Tirith were hard on a hobbit's feet, even a hobbit who had been out in the wilderness for weeks on end.
"I am sorry, Frodo," Faramir says, taking one aching hobbit foot and kneading. Frodo meets his gaze, nearly moved to weep by the compassion he sees there.
"The fault lies with me alone," Frodo answers. "It is I who wished to wander the City for hours."
Strong fingers probe deep, warming, easing. Frodo leans against the stone wall, closing his eyes and slipping into a sweet doze. At last they have come to sit under a different sun.
And I've written a first-line drabble for danachan (first line hers)
Faramir knew that it wouldn't be long. Just today, when he had sat in the garden behind the Houses of Healing with Frodo, discussing flowers to the best of either of their limited abilities, he had seen a new spark in the Ringbearer's eyes. Faramir had not dared take his hand. Eowyn's rejection still cut too deep. For now, he was content merely to sit in the pleasant company with one he could love. Both had gone through too much darkness not to take such chances as were offered.
Actually, none of these are true drabbles. I should just call them ficlets. :-)
Sometimes Faramir and Frodo cannot seem to get things right between them in the night. Frodo has never been one to cuddle. After the love, that pleasant throb that fills Faramir deep and makes him want to hold his darling close, Frodo twists out of his grip. How it wrings Faramir's heart when Frodo pushes away and makes space -- wider and more barren than the plains of Gorgoroth.
Frodo knows it hurts him, but he cannot help the darkness that fills his heart each night, after Faramir falls into sleep. He cannot bear it that even with strong arms holding him close, even with the reassuring thud of Faramir's heart, the darkness still creeps in, chilling him to his bones. That is his to bear alone.
I've written a first-line drabble for trianne (first line hers)
The floors of Minas Tirith were hard on a hobbit's feet, even a hobbit who had been out in the wilderness for weeks on end.
"I am sorry, Frodo," Faramir says, taking one aching hobbit foot and kneading. Frodo meets his gaze, nearly moved to weep by the compassion he sees there.
"The fault lies with me alone," Frodo answers. "It is I who wished to wander the City for hours."
Strong fingers probe deep, warming, easing. Frodo leans against the stone wall, closing his eyes and slipping into a sweet doze. At last they have come to sit under a different sun.
And I've written a first-line drabble for danachan (first line hers)
Faramir knew that it wouldn't be long. Just today, when he had sat in the garden behind the Houses of Healing with Frodo, discussing flowers to the best of either of their limited abilities, he had seen a new spark in the Ringbearer's eyes. Faramir had not dared take his hand. Eowyn's rejection still cut too deep. For now, he was content merely to sit in the pleasant company with one he could love. Both had gone through too much darkness not to take such chances as were offered.
Actually, none of these are true drabbles. I should just call them ficlets. :-)