Sadness and Fanfic
[ mood | 
]
[ music | The Darkness - A Thing Called Love ]
This whole Billy Boyd thing makes me sad. I feel depressed. Popped some pills this morning. Talk about fucking hyped. But in an ugh-Ima-be-sick sorta way. I didn't sleep last night, I was stressing about it. I brought up the Billy thing with my sister again and she let fly at me; told me to drop it. Barg. I cut again, too. Plus I feel really rotten about my insensitivity towards twohobbitears. I love Billy; taking a subjective view was easy until I wrote that little analysis. It allowed me to step back and now I don't know what to think. So yeah...um...it's awkward and I feel like a complete ass.
So I'm trying to cheer myself up. Regrowth is looking shitty, so I bought the last box of red black hair-dye. Decided to share more fanfic. This is my baby, the one I poured my heart into. But don't let that stop you from reading or giving constructive critiscm.
The Great War
Summary: AU fanfic about the adventures of Frodo, Merry and Éowyn. B-story with Sam and Pippin. Contains movie and book elements, Merry/Éowyn shipping, and Pippin and Merry angst.
Chapter 1: Lake Everdim
"We're not supposed to swim in there." Éowyn eyed the late suspiciously. The surface was smooth like glass, but dim. Not with slime, but from ... Well like age. Like an old mirror covered in a thin film of dust.
"Bugger that." Meriadoc flashed her a chiding, mischievous smile and pulled the jerkin over his head and tossed it in the brittle heath. It disintegrated under the weight.
Frodo was already wading out into the shallows, deeper into the dull grey water. “Come on, Sam!” He waved his plump friend over. Sam stole a guilty glance at Éowyn, torn between loyalty and the lake. The sun was warming the open land and having put on a few pounds. His clothes were stifling.
“It looks all right, Éowyn,” Pippin tried to sound sure of his statement; he shared Sam’s sentiment, but he was more reluctant to discard Éowyn’s advice - out of respect and fawning infatuation. The surface did look all right, and cool, and inviting. “Maybe we could just get our feet wet?” He suggested hopefully, looking at her for approval.
But Éowyn shook her head. “No.” Calling to the braver of the boys, she said, “I don’t see why we couldn’t just go swimming in the Brandywine?”
“What fun is there in that?” replied Meriadoc. “Everyone goes swimming in that. Besides, this is forbidden.” Like the Old Forest, and the Barrow-downs, and a hundred other places they weren’t supposed to go and did. Nothing had ever really happened to them. They’d never come to sticky ends, they’d just - well occasionally they got stuck.
I hope I won’t have to rescue us this time, thought Éowyn. I’m sure it’s forbidden for a very good reason.
“Aren’t you coming swimming?” asked Pippin encouragingly, unbuttoning the few buttons still attached by frayed thread to his shirt. He was more hopeful than ever, especially to see her naked silhouette beneath clinging, wet petticoats.
Éowyn glared away his hope and he was obliged to struggle on over his decision to join the others. Frodo and Meriadoc were already almost half way out across the lake, swimming furiously with every stroke. A race no doubt. They were always competing at something. Sam floundered in the sludgy, grainy sand and sprawled on his stomach in the cool water. Determined to join his friends, he levered himself up and doggy-padded out towards the middle of the lake.
“Be careful, Pippin,” Éowyn issued a friendly, concerned warning as he stepped into the shallows. For the moment he seemed to just want to get his feet wet and his breeches were rolled up below his knees, the straps swinging at his thighs.
Nothing happened. Half an hour on Éowyn had climbed the ridge and was contemplating leaving her friends to their swimming so she could explore the stone ruins to the north-west when Meriadoc called out to her. “Hey Éowyn! Wait!” Emerging from the water, his breeches dripping wet, he hurried up the slope and then slowed to a labouring climb when the incline grew too steep. He was panting when he reached the top of the ridge. “You shouldn’t go off by yourself.”
“And you shouldn’t go swimming in forbidden pools,” she scolded.
Meriadoc flashed his infamous, charming smile. “Well I thought better of it. I’ll go exploring with you and then we’ll be even. How does that sound?”
Éowyn loved that smile and hated it; it invariably meant he was up to some trickery. He instigated half the trouble in the Shire, let Frodo believe it was all his idea and managed to drag them down with him - every time. But the smile that caused the trouble also helped them escape it, because he was a charismatic young man and his intentions were always good. Only Meriadoc’s father disapproved, disagreed, even violently so. Éowyn knew he didn’t like the subject, but she’d seen the fresh, pulpy bruises on the back of his neck as they stepped nimbly from rock to rock in the knee-high summer grasses, and she mentioned it.
“Did he hit you again?”
Cagey, Meriadoc half-shrugged his shoulders and glanced wearily at her. His cheerful demeanour was replaced by a glower.
“Why?”
“Doesn’t matter. He’s a bastard. There doesn’t have to be a reason.” And while they all knew Saradoc was a strict disciplinarian, neither Frodo nor Sam nor even gentle Pippin elected to confront him about it. They were comfortable with the unquenchably cheerful Meriadoc, ‘Merry’. “You know,” he said, suddenly, springing lightly onto the turf below a rocky outcropping of the ridge - a few hundred yards from the ruins, “we could go swimming in the Brandywine tomorrow, just you and me.”
Éowyn didn’t show it but she was disappointed he’d changed the subject. “Without the others?” she asked, surprised. They always did everything together, the five of them.
“Why not? You’re not going to swim today.”
She laughed, a clear unbridled laugh very much like his own. “And no doubt you were all looking forward to seeing me in my wet petticoats.”
“Oh no, no, no, Pippin was looking forward to seeing you in your wet petticoats, but the rest of us aren’t quite as pervy as he is. Or quite as doe-eyed over you. Some of us anyway.” Meriadoc took her hand, requiring her to jump onto the same earthy ledge he was standing on. A moment more he stared at her in a way that excited and made Éowyn feel uncomfortable, and then - as she’d half been expecting - he kissed her.
A gentle, sweet kiss, the kind he’d given plenty of girls in his adolescence, but he was nervous. Meriadoc never openly showed more than a platonic interest in Éowyn and he thought of her as being a more close companion than even Frodo. Naturally he began to apologise, cursing himself for jeopardising their friendship, but Éowyn shook her head.
“Merry, it’s all right.”
“It is -?”
“I don’t mind.”
“You don’t? Well that’s good. I don’t want to lose my best friend. It’s just, I like you - more than that. I didn’t want you to think I was being a bastard or anything.” Genuinely relieved, giddy with renewed excitement - young love, he glanced at the ridge. Distantly he could hear Sam’s fat body splashing noisily about, Frodo’s boisterous laugh and Pippin trying to talk above them both. “Come on.” Without letting go of Éowyn’s hand he took off running in the direction of the ruins. Éowyn’s musical laughter trailed behind them.
The north bank of the lake was not really a bank at all, but a part of the ridge itself. Ancient rocks made smooth and carved by thousands of years of the rhythmic lapping of water into deep, dark caverns boring into the bones of the hills. Undisturbed for centuries, except for four (now three) young men spoiling the dull serenity of its surface in the present. Whatever was lurking in those watery pits was old, far older than the Witch-king who had ravaged Arnor in the old days, but its malice was not diminished. Stirred from its slumber, it swam out from its grotto in the direction of the oblivious water-revellers now quite an unsafe distance from the shallows.
Limp Bizkit is coming to South Africa. Maybe I should go see them...
/edit
I'm looking at it and I still don't believe it. The Hobbit trailer screencaps courtesy of shirefolk_. Those could be very good manipulations of EE stuff we haven't seen. I don't see how they could make a trailer for something that's still in the works. Unless New Line is really confident of the returns and banking on the current success of ROTK. I'm sorry Teesh, I still don't buy it :(
]
[ music | The Darkness - A Thing Called Love ]
This whole Billy Boyd thing makes me sad. I feel depressed. Popped some pills this morning. Talk about fucking hyped. But in an ugh-Ima-be-sick sorta way. I didn't sleep last night, I was stressing about it. I brought up the Billy thing with my sister again and she let fly at me; told me to drop it. Barg. I cut again, too. Plus I feel really rotten about my insensitivity towards twohobbitears. I love Billy; taking a subjective view was easy until I wrote that little analysis. It allowed me to step back and now I don't know what to think. So yeah...um...it's awkward and I feel like a complete ass.
So I'm trying to cheer myself up. Regrowth is looking shitty, so I bought the last box of red black hair-dye. Decided to share more fanfic. This is my baby, the one I poured my heart into. But don't let that stop you from reading or giving constructive critiscm.
The Great War
Summary: AU fanfic about the adventures of Frodo, Merry and Éowyn. B-story with Sam and Pippin. Contains movie and book elements, Merry/Éowyn shipping, and Pippin and Merry angst.
Chapter 1: Lake Everdim
"We're not supposed to swim in there." Éowyn eyed the late suspiciously. The surface was smooth like glass, but dim. Not with slime, but from ... Well like age. Like an old mirror covered in a thin film of dust.
"Bugger that." Meriadoc flashed her a chiding, mischievous smile and pulled the jerkin over his head and tossed it in the brittle heath. It disintegrated under the weight.
Frodo was already wading out into the shallows, deeper into the dull grey water. “Come on, Sam!” He waved his plump friend over. Sam stole a guilty glance at Éowyn, torn between loyalty and the lake. The sun was warming the open land and having put on a few pounds. His clothes were stifling.
“It looks all right, Éowyn,” Pippin tried to sound sure of his statement; he shared Sam’s sentiment, but he was more reluctant to discard Éowyn’s advice - out of respect and fawning infatuation. The surface did look all right, and cool, and inviting. “Maybe we could just get our feet wet?” He suggested hopefully, looking at her for approval.
But Éowyn shook her head. “No.” Calling to the braver of the boys, she said, “I don’t see why we couldn’t just go swimming in the Brandywine?”
“What fun is there in that?” replied Meriadoc. “Everyone goes swimming in that. Besides, this is forbidden.” Like the Old Forest, and the Barrow-downs, and a hundred other places they weren’t supposed to go and did. Nothing had ever really happened to them. They’d never come to sticky ends, they’d just - well occasionally they got stuck.
I hope I won’t have to rescue us this time, thought Éowyn. I’m sure it’s forbidden for a very good reason.
“Aren’t you coming swimming?” asked Pippin encouragingly, unbuttoning the few buttons still attached by frayed thread to his shirt. He was more hopeful than ever, especially to see her naked silhouette beneath clinging, wet petticoats.
Éowyn glared away his hope and he was obliged to struggle on over his decision to join the others. Frodo and Meriadoc were already almost half way out across the lake, swimming furiously with every stroke. A race no doubt. They were always competing at something. Sam floundered in the sludgy, grainy sand and sprawled on his stomach in the cool water. Determined to join his friends, he levered himself up and doggy-padded out towards the middle of the lake.
“Be careful, Pippin,” Éowyn issued a friendly, concerned warning as he stepped into the shallows. For the moment he seemed to just want to get his feet wet and his breeches were rolled up below his knees, the straps swinging at his thighs.
Nothing happened. Half an hour on Éowyn had climbed the ridge and was contemplating leaving her friends to their swimming so she could explore the stone ruins to the north-west when Meriadoc called out to her. “Hey Éowyn! Wait!” Emerging from the water, his breeches dripping wet, he hurried up the slope and then slowed to a labouring climb when the incline grew too steep. He was panting when he reached the top of the ridge. “You shouldn’t go off by yourself.”
“And you shouldn’t go swimming in forbidden pools,” she scolded.
Meriadoc flashed his infamous, charming smile. “Well I thought better of it. I’ll go exploring with you and then we’ll be even. How does that sound?”
Éowyn loved that smile and hated it; it invariably meant he was up to some trickery. He instigated half the trouble in the Shire, let Frodo believe it was all his idea and managed to drag them down with him - every time. But the smile that caused the trouble also helped them escape it, because he was a charismatic young man and his intentions were always good. Only Meriadoc’s father disapproved, disagreed, even violently so. Éowyn knew he didn’t like the subject, but she’d seen the fresh, pulpy bruises on the back of his neck as they stepped nimbly from rock to rock in the knee-high summer grasses, and she mentioned it.
“Did he hit you again?”
Cagey, Meriadoc half-shrugged his shoulders and glanced wearily at her. His cheerful demeanour was replaced by a glower.
“Why?”
“Doesn’t matter. He’s a bastard. There doesn’t have to be a reason.” And while they all knew Saradoc was a strict disciplinarian, neither Frodo nor Sam nor even gentle Pippin elected to confront him about it. They were comfortable with the unquenchably cheerful Meriadoc, ‘Merry’. “You know,” he said, suddenly, springing lightly onto the turf below a rocky outcropping of the ridge - a few hundred yards from the ruins, “we could go swimming in the Brandywine tomorrow, just you and me.”
Éowyn didn’t show it but she was disappointed he’d changed the subject. “Without the others?” she asked, surprised. They always did everything together, the five of them.
“Why not? You’re not going to swim today.”
She laughed, a clear unbridled laugh very much like his own. “And no doubt you were all looking forward to seeing me in my wet petticoats.”
“Oh no, no, no, Pippin was looking forward to seeing you in your wet petticoats, but the rest of us aren’t quite as pervy as he is. Or quite as doe-eyed over you. Some of us anyway.” Meriadoc took her hand, requiring her to jump onto the same earthy ledge he was standing on. A moment more he stared at her in a way that excited and made Éowyn feel uncomfortable, and then - as she’d half been expecting - he kissed her.
A gentle, sweet kiss, the kind he’d given plenty of girls in his adolescence, but he was nervous. Meriadoc never openly showed more than a platonic interest in Éowyn and he thought of her as being a more close companion than even Frodo. Naturally he began to apologise, cursing himself for jeopardising their friendship, but Éowyn shook her head.
“Merry, it’s all right.”
“It is -?”
“I don’t mind.”
“You don’t? Well that’s good. I don’t want to lose my best friend. It’s just, I like you - more than that. I didn’t want you to think I was being a bastard or anything.” Genuinely relieved, giddy with renewed excitement - young love, he glanced at the ridge. Distantly he could hear Sam’s fat body splashing noisily about, Frodo’s boisterous laugh and Pippin trying to talk above them both. “Come on.” Without letting go of Éowyn’s hand he took off running in the direction of the ruins. Éowyn’s musical laughter trailed behind them.
The north bank of the lake was not really a bank at all, but a part of the ridge itself. Ancient rocks made smooth and carved by thousands of years of the rhythmic lapping of water into deep, dark caverns boring into the bones of the hills. Undisturbed for centuries, except for four (now three) young men spoiling the dull serenity of its surface in the present. Whatever was lurking in those watery pits was old, far older than the Witch-king who had ravaged Arnor in the old days, but its malice was not diminished. Stirred from its slumber, it swam out from its grotto in the direction of the oblivious water-revellers now quite an unsafe distance from the shallows.
Limp Bizkit is coming to South Africa. Maybe I should go see them...
/edit
I'm looking at it and I still don't believe it. The Hobbit trailer screencaps courtesy of shirefolk_. Those could be very good manipulations of EE stuff we haven't seen. I don't see how they could make a trailer for something that's still in the works. Unless New Line is really confident of the returns and banking on the current success of ROTK. I'm sorry Teesh, I still don't buy it :(