Now Be Thankful
I have been bashing a small piece of fiction around. It is one of those nights when every time I try to write it, I am pulled away with the desire to write something else - (pulled this time into yet another Faramir story... or perhaps two. Cruisedirector, I blame you...) Trouble is, Faramir likes to get his own way, and he has had me wrapped around those beautiful bowman's fingers of his for nearly fourty years. I woke with his voice ringing in my head, singing me a Richard Thompson song:
When the stone is grown too cold to kneel
In crystal waters I'll be bound
Cold as stone weary to the sounds upon the wheel
When the fire is grown too fierce to breathe
In burning irons I'll be bound
Fierce as fire weary to the sound upon the wheel
Bad enough -- but I am sharing the rest of my brain with Denethor. (They do not make good company for each other!) Dad is concerned that I never wrote the last poem in his series. Chris, I blame this part on you, because I know you want to use it in your banner story follow up. Make it stop, will you? The story I am supposed to be finishing is at your instigation, after all!
Do I write too many Faramir stories?
When the stone is grown too cold to kneel
In crystal waters I'll be bound
Cold as stone weary to the sounds upon the wheel
When the fire is grown too fierce to breathe
In burning irons I'll be bound
Fierce as fire weary to the sound upon the wheel
Bad enough -- but I am sharing the rest of my brain with Denethor. (They do not make good company for each other!) Dad is concerned that I never wrote the last poem in his series. Chris, I blame this part on you, because I know you want to use it in your banner story follow up. Make it stop, will you? The story I am supposed to be finishing is at your instigation, after all!
Do I write too many Faramir stories?