Reach for the Stars, Chapter VIII by Dreamflower
Author: Dreamflower
Title: Reach for the Stars, Chapter VIII
Rating: G
Theme: Potluck (from the Outside the Box challenge in October, this continues the story begun there.)
Elements: three words-- wryly, hinder, table
Author's Notes: Here is Chapter VII of a story begun in October's "Outside the Box" challenge to write in a format, style or genre different than what I've written before. I have definitely never written LotR as a sort of steampunkish futuristic space opera. To keep it from getting totally out of hand, I decided to do something else I haven't tried before-each chapter is a different specific fixed length: the first chapter is 100 words, the second, 200, the next, 300, etc.
Chapter VIII is therefore 800
Summary: A familiar story in another time, another place altogether…
Word Count: 800
Reach for the Stars, Chapter VIII
It was with much trepidation that the kuduk bid farewell to the Green Man at the northeastern border of the Wyld Wood. He escorted them through the shifting mists, the trees behaving in his presence. He walked beside them singing songs in some ancient tongue; the tunes filled their heads-- even after he had set them on the road and they had left him behind, the music lingered in their minds.
Now that the Wyld Wood was past, the Road was clear before them, a long ribbon of yellow synthrete, set down the center with solar panels; in the bright light of mid-morning they were simply a series of grey squares, blending in the distance into a single long line. The land on either side was unremarkable; lavender grass covered the gently rolling hills, punctuated here and there with an occasional house and gardens set in graduated round beds, or flocks of wooly six-legged sceap on the hilltops. At noon they sat by the side of the road and tucked into the provisions given them by the Summer Lady: sharp cheese veined with purple, cransome cakes, and bottles of wishberry juice. Sam, Merry and Pippin relaxed, enjoying the repast, but Frodo kept thinking of the automata, and wondering if pursuit would catch up to them ere they reached Bree. He chivvied his friends to finish, and soon they were on the way again. In only a couple of hours they were able to espy the dome of Bree glittering in the distance, a few dirigibles and solarships hovering above. The sun was beginning to set by the time they arrived, staring in wonder at the vessels docked above the town.
The security officer at the entry level, a fellow with a slovenly appearance and an officious manner was inclined to question them suspiciously. But Merry put on his most supercilious air.
"My good fellow, I do hope you are not planning to hinder us in any way? You do see that I am the Heir of Lord Buckland, do you not, Officer...Goatleaf?" He tapped his own identity card, which lay atop the other three on the table. "I am sure mine is sufficient. It is getting late, we are tired and hungry and in no mood to dilly-dally." He pushed several credits of Suza currency across the table.
The man's hand covered it quickly. "I am sure you are right, sir." He picked out the code with one finger, and the entry into the dome opened. "If you haven't made other arrangements, sir, I recommend the Butterbur Rest Hotel. It's the best accommodations in Bree."
"Thank you, then, Officer Goatleaf." Merry led them out with his nose as high in the air as it would go. As soon as they were out of sight, Frodo burst out into laughter.
"Meriadoc, I do not think I've ever seen a better imitation of Uncle Rorimac as His Lordship!" Frodo said wryly.
Pippin began laughing as well. "The bribe didn't hurt any either."
"I hope as this Butterbur Rest Hotel is a comfortable place," Sam said.
None of them had time to notice Officer Goatleaf pull out his personal mobile and place a call once they were out of sight.
The spaceport of Bree was new to them, though they'd heard stories of it from others. They stared about in curiousity at the mixed population: Bree was populated mostly by humans and kuduk, but since it was a spaceport there were also other races to be seen-- some Khazad, passed by them, arguing among themselves in their own deep and rumbly language, identified by their red beards, stocky build and blue skin. They saw one being that reminded them uncomfortably of their encounter in the Wyld Wood; it had a distinctly treeish look about it.
"I hoped we might see some Eldar," said Sam with disappointment.
"They do not travel much beyond their own enclaves," Frodo answered. "We will see them in Imladris, I promise you!"
The Butterbur Rest was easily spotted. Only a few blocks up the main thoroughfare, it was a large structure: a central tower, tall and sleek, with two one-story wings on the ground floor level, which curved out from either side.
They entered a large lobby filled with comfortable-looking seating in sizes that would acommodate a variety of body sizes. They approached the front desk and asked for a room.
The front desk manager offered them a suite of rooms in one of the lower wings. "We find that such rooms are much more comfortable for kuduk than the rooms we keep for the larger races.
"We wondered, sir, is a Professor Olórin here? We were to meet him here."
He shook his head. "The professor is a regular guest here, but he hasn't been here in weeks."
Title: Reach for the Stars, Chapter VIII
Rating: G
Theme: Potluck (from the Outside the Box challenge in October, this continues the story begun there.)
Elements: three words-- wryly, hinder, table
Author's Notes: Here is Chapter VII of a story begun in October's "Outside the Box" challenge to write in a format, style or genre different than what I've written before. I have definitely never written LotR as a sort of steampunkish futuristic space opera. To keep it from getting totally out of hand, I decided to do something else I haven't tried before-each chapter is a different specific fixed length: the first chapter is 100 words, the second, 200, the next, 300, etc.
Chapter VIII is therefore 800
Summary: A familiar story in another time, another place altogether…
Word Count: 800
Reach for the Stars, Chapter VIII
It was with much trepidation that the kuduk bid farewell to the Green Man at the northeastern border of the Wyld Wood. He escorted them through the shifting mists, the trees behaving in his presence. He walked beside them singing songs in some ancient tongue; the tunes filled their heads-- even after he had set them on the road and they had left him behind, the music lingered in their minds.
Now that the Wyld Wood was past, the Road was clear before them, a long ribbon of yellow synthrete, set down the center with solar panels; in the bright light of mid-morning they were simply a series of grey squares, blending in the distance into a single long line. The land on either side was unremarkable; lavender grass covered the gently rolling hills, punctuated here and there with an occasional house and gardens set in graduated round beds, or flocks of wooly six-legged sceap on the hilltops. At noon they sat by the side of the road and tucked into the provisions given them by the Summer Lady: sharp cheese veined with purple, cransome cakes, and bottles of wishberry juice. Sam, Merry and Pippin relaxed, enjoying the repast, but Frodo kept thinking of the automata, and wondering if pursuit would catch up to them ere they reached Bree. He chivvied his friends to finish, and soon they were on the way again. In only a couple of hours they were able to espy the dome of Bree glittering in the distance, a few dirigibles and solarships hovering above. The sun was beginning to set by the time they arrived, staring in wonder at the vessels docked above the town.
The security officer at the entry level, a fellow with a slovenly appearance and an officious manner was inclined to question them suspiciously. But Merry put on his most supercilious air.
"My good fellow, I do hope you are not planning to hinder us in any way? You do see that I am the Heir of Lord Buckland, do you not, Officer...Goatleaf?" He tapped his own identity card, which lay atop the other three on the table. "I am sure mine is sufficient. It is getting late, we are tired and hungry and in no mood to dilly-dally." He pushed several credits of Suza currency across the table.
The man's hand covered it quickly. "I am sure you are right, sir." He picked out the code with one finger, and the entry into the dome opened. "If you haven't made other arrangements, sir, I recommend the Butterbur Rest Hotel. It's the best accommodations in Bree."
"Thank you, then, Officer Goatleaf." Merry led them out with his nose as high in the air as it would go. As soon as they were out of sight, Frodo burst out into laughter.
"Meriadoc, I do not think I've ever seen a better imitation of Uncle Rorimac as His Lordship!" Frodo said wryly.
Pippin began laughing as well. "The bribe didn't hurt any either."
"I hope as this Butterbur Rest Hotel is a comfortable place," Sam said.
None of them had time to notice Officer Goatleaf pull out his personal mobile and place a call once they were out of sight.
The spaceport of Bree was new to them, though they'd heard stories of it from others. They stared about in curiousity at the mixed population: Bree was populated mostly by humans and kuduk, but since it was a spaceport there were also other races to be seen-- some Khazad, passed by them, arguing among themselves in their own deep and rumbly language, identified by their red beards, stocky build and blue skin. They saw one being that reminded them uncomfortably of their encounter in the Wyld Wood; it had a distinctly treeish look about it.
"I hoped we might see some Eldar," said Sam with disappointment.
"They do not travel much beyond their own enclaves," Frodo answered. "We will see them in Imladris, I promise you!"
The Butterbur Rest was easily spotted. Only a few blocks up the main thoroughfare, it was a large structure: a central tower, tall and sleek, with two one-story wings on the ground floor level, which curved out from either side.
They entered a large lobby filled with comfortable-looking seating in sizes that would acommodate a variety of body sizes. They approached the front desk and asked for a room.
The front desk manager offered them a suite of rooms in one of the lower wings. "We find that such rooms are much more comfortable for kuduk than the rooms we keep for the larger races.
"We wondered, sir, is a Professor Olórin here? We were to meet him here."
He shook his head. "The professor is a regular guest here, but he hasn't been here in weeks."