Insta-Drabble Success!
Well, I got it to 100 words. For the first time ever. Yes, that is an accomplishment for someone who used to tremble in fear at the idea of a five-page essay in her school days and was known to jump up, pump her fist in the air, and yell, "Yes!" whenever the professor said, "minimum ten pages...."
Yes, I am long-winded. I got called "wordy" once in a writers' workshop, but then my professor jumped on the person who said it (not literally, of course) and snapped, "Give me one example of where she is *wordy,*" which made me feel good because it redeemed my long-windedness just a bit.
I couldn't stay the whole time because my husband and I were both home sick that day--and yes, we really were sick--and I had committed to watching a movie with him. I think drabbling would have been more worthwhile. The movie was "meh"--I think brain cells may have imploded while watching it. But juno_magic was right: Insta-drabbling is addictive! I loved it! I can't wait to do it again!
Okay, stop rambling already and post the drabbles, right?
The words were splash, orange, weapon, and fortify.
~oOo~
Araman
His weapon dropped to the sea with a splash. He stared out over the sea, at the ponderous clouds, lit orange from below with flickering light.
Fire.
He came to Alqualondë to fortify his kin against, he thought, the aggression of the Teleri. He looked down at his hands, and the dried rust-brown of innocents, that he refused to now to wash.
He looked again at the fire.
He said, “Many times have you surprised me today, Maedhros.”
~oOo~
The words were forge, friendship, cradle, and tabletop. Oh, and "forge" should be used as a verb to discourage arandil13 from writing one of *those* drabbles!
~oOo~
The Surprise
It began as friendship. They walked beside the sea and talked of things they told no other. When he made the Tengwar, she scribed them first, writing upon the tabletop, “I love….”
Now, he is often busy, for he has more ideas than hours. But the nights belong to her, and they still talk as they used to, if their passions will allow.
She works in secret, to surprise him, and she brings him to the room beside their bedroom and takes her hand from his eyes.
A cradle.
She says, “Great things we have forged my love.”
~oOo~
After I finished the first, I realized that I had boo-booed the word count on the first one, and so it is too short. That might just be the first--and last!--time that I have ever said that.
I am cross-posting this between my journal and insta_drabblers, so I apologize to the relevant folks for the redundancy.
While on the subject of drabbles, I wrote a slightly-more-than-a-drabble-but-not-quite-a-drouble for SilverWolf's birthday on HASA. SilverWolf asked for a drabble about Glorfindel, with either Ecthelion or Elrond. I wasn't quite ambitious enough to write my first LotR, but I was ambitious enough to try to sorta-kinda include both Ecthelion and at least a theoretical Elrond.
~oOo~
Servie of the Son
I am hustling through the halls of the palace when I hear the music. It reminds me of the way the rains would ring upon still ponds in Valinor, cascading from the skies, silver, as though kissed by the stars.
I follow the sound to the nursery. I pause in the doorway and watch Ecthelion play his harp for the young Eärendil-who has succumbed to sleep-a melody so ancient that it is hard to forget that it was devised by one of our own and not placed by Eru in our hearts.
When the song dies on his fingers, I speak. “Babysitting?” I ask.
He turns and grins. “I do what I can to serve my King. And his son.”
I look upon the sleeping child, his dreams washed by Ecthelion’s music, a smile upon his lips. “And so shall we serve his son.”
The word count is 146! I'm getting better! ::does a little dance::
And Happy Birthday, SilverWolf!
Yes, I am long-winded. I got called "wordy" once in a writers' workshop, but then my professor jumped on the person who said it (not literally, of course) and snapped, "Give me one example of where she is *wordy,*" which made me feel good because it redeemed my long-windedness just a bit.
I couldn't stay the whole time because my husband and I were both home sick that day--and yes, we really were sick--and I had committed to watching a movie with him. I think drabbling would have been more worthwhile. The movie was "meh"--I think brain cells may have imploded while watching it. But juno_magic was right: Insta-drabbling is addictive! I loved it! I can't wait to do it again!
Okay, stop rambling already and post the drabbles, right?
The words were splash, orange, weapon, and fortify.
~oOo~
Araman
His weapon dropped to the sea with a splash. He stared out over the sea, at the ponderous clouds, lit orange from below with flickering light.
Fire.
He came to Alqualondë to fortify his kin against, he thought, the aggression of the Teleri. He looked down at his hands, and the dried rust-brown of innocents, that he refused to now to wash.
He looked again at the fire.
He said, “Many times have you surprised me today, Maedhros.”
~oOo~
The words were forge, friendship, cradle, and tabletop. Oh, and "forge" should be used as a verb to discourage arandil13 from writing one of *those* drabbles!
~oOo~
The Surprise
It began as friendship. They walked beside the sea and talked of things they told no other. When he made the Tengwar, she scribed them first, writing upon the tabletop, “I love….”
Now, he is often busy, for he has more ideas than hours. But the nights belong to her, and they still talk as they used to, if their passions will allow.
She works in secret, to surprise him, and she brings him to the room beside their bedroom and takes her hand from his eyes.
A cradle.
She says, “Great things we have forged my love.”
~oOo~
After I finished the first, I realized that I had boo-booed the word count on the first one, and so it is too short. That might just be the first--and last!--time that I have ever said that.
I am cross-posting this between my journal and insta_drabblers, so I apologize to the relevant folks for the redundancy.
While on the subject of drabbles, I wrote a slightly-more-than-a-drabble-but-not-quite-a-drouble for SilverWolf's birthday on HASA. SilverWolf asked for a drabble about Glorfindel, with either Ecthelion or Elrond. I wasn't quite ambitious enough to write my first LotR, but I was ambitious enough to try to sorta-kinda include both Ecthelion and at least a theoretical Elrond.
~oOo~
Servie of the Son
I am hustling through the halls of the palace when I hear the music. It reminds me of the way the rains would ring upon still ponds in Valinor, cascading from the skies, silver, as though kissed by the stars.
I follow the sound to the nursery. I pause in the doorway and watch Ecthelion play his harp for the young Eärendil-who has succumbed to sleep-a melody so ancient that it is hard to forget that it was devised by one of our own and not placed by Eru in our hearts.
When the song dies on his fingers, I speak. “Babysitting?” I ask.
He turns and grins. “I do what I can to serve my King. And his son.”
I look upon the sleeping child, his dreams washed by Ecthelion’s music, a smile upon his lips. “And so shall we serve his son.”
The word count is 146! I'm getting better! ::does a little dance::
And Happy Birthday, SilverWolf!