3SF
Today was the epically winning day of Narnia/LotR xovers. So much perfection from everyone!
LOTR/Narnia, Lucy/Aragorn, I took the stars from my eyes/and then I made a map
"Our stars dance," Lucy says, sighing, and Aragorn finds he cannot look away from the curve of her throat as she looks up at Varda's children. Her bare feet tapping a strange and sparkling rhythm in the grass, and her eyes dart across new constellations.
"I will take you to the Elves," he promises, "and you must dance for them, for they love stars like you."
An addition to yesterday's Lucy/Aragorn...
Lucy watches Aragorn all day -- stolen glances, really, as she moves between patients, trying to emulate the calm of the healers here. They are not only professional but truly serene, a balm to the frantic minds and hearts brought in ever greater numbers from the field, and he is the unassuming beacon in the center of all, and when she catches herself weeping as Eowyn opens her eyes, she doesn't know whether it's out of relief for her friend or simply at the beauty in the returned king's gentle hands. What she knows, in a great purring rush of certainty, is that she needs her own Houses of Healing in Narnia.
LOTR, Eowyn, she is so much more than this
It is good, this life she and Faramir are coaxing out of the earth of Ithilien, both a new adventure and a satisfying duty. Her days are full and her nights happy, and she begins to find a peacefulness in herself that she never thought to feel again. Still, there are days when the White Lady of Rohan, nursing a lingering pain in what was once her shield-arm, cannot keep from dreaming of war and glory.
Narnia, Susan/Edmund, conversion has just left me heathen
It is different in England, certainly - more secretive, more shameful, so that suddenly they find themselves hiding the extent of their lingering affections even from Peter and Lucy. "But after all," as Edmund likes to say as they undress each other, as they lie shivering under ration-thin blankets, as they creep silently and contently from hidden corners, "it really can't be so different."
And Susan smiles and draws him close and whispers, "Once a king or queen in Narnia, always a king or queen."
LOTR/Narnia, Lucy/Aragorn, I took the stars from my eyes/and then I made a map
"Our stars dance," Lucy says, sighing, and Aragorn finds he cannot look away from the curve of her throat as she looks up at Varda's children. Her bare feet tapping a strange and sparkling rhythm in the grass, and her eyes dart across new constellations.
"I will take you to the Elves," he promises, "and you must dance for them, for they love stars like you."
Narnia, Peter/Lucy, sharing warmth
It is the dead of winter, frozen and quiet and lonely, one of those nights when Edmund refuses all company. Peter finds Lucy propped up outside their brother's door, dozing uncomfortably and shivering against the cold stones of Cair Paravel, and she opens her eyes blearily but immediately beckons him to join her. "I don't want him to be alone with the nightmares," she murmurs, little-sister soft as she burrows into his side, and the warmth he feels spreading through him, he knows, has as much to do with the fierceness of her heart as the closeness of her body.
LOTR/Narnia, Lucy/Aragorn, I took the stars from my eyes/and then I made a map
"Our stars dance," Lucy says, sighing, and Aragorn finds he cannot look away from the curve of her throat as she looks up at Varda's children. Her bare feet tapping a strange and sparkling rhythm in the grass, and her eyes dart across new constellations.
"I will take you to the Elves," he promises, "and you must dance for them, for they love stars like you."
An addition to yesterday's Lucy/Aragorn...
Lucy watches Aragorn all day -- stolen glances, really, as she moves between patients, trying to emulate the calm of the healers here. They are not only professional but truly serene, a balm to the frantic minds and hearts brought in ever greater numbers from the field, and he is the unassuming beacon in the center of all, and when she catches herself weeping as Eowyn opens her eyes, she doesn't know whether it's out of relief for her friend or simply at the beauty in the returned king's gentle hands. What she knows, in a great purring rush of certainty, is that she needs her own Houses of Healing in Narnia.
LOTR, Eowyn, she is so much more than this
It is good, this life she and Faramir are coaxing out of the earth of Ithilien, both a new adventure and a satisfying duty. Her days are full and her nights happy, and she begins to find a peacefulness in herself that she never thought to feel again. Still, there are days when the White Lady of Rohan, nursing a lingering pain in what was once her shield-arm, cannot keep from dreaming of war and glory.
Narnia, Susan/Edmund, conversion has just left me heathen
It is different in England, certainly - more secretive, more shameful, so that suddenly they find themselves hiding the extent of their lingering affections even from Peter and Lucy. "But after all," as Edmund likes to say as they undress each other, as they lie shivering under ration-thin blankets, as they creep silently and contently from hidden corners, "it really can't be so different."
And Susan smiles and draws him close and whispers, "Once a king or queen in Narnia, always a king or queen."
LOTR/Narnia, Lucy/Aragorn, I took the stars from my eyes/and then I made a map
"Our stars dance," Lucy says, sighing, and Aragorn finds he cannot look away from the curve of her throat as she looks up at Varda's children. Her bare feet tapping a strange and sparkling rhythm in the grass, and her eyes dart across new constellations.
"I will take you to the Elves," he promises, "and you must dance for them, for they love stars like you."
Narnia, Peter/Lucy, sharing warmth
It is the dead of winter, frozen and quiet and lonely, one of those nights when Edmund refuses all company. Peter finds Lucy propped up outside their brother's door, dozing uncomfortably and shivering against the cold stones of Cair Paravel, and she opens her eyes blearily but immediately beckons him to join her. "I don't want him to be alone with the nightmares," she murmurs, little-sister soft as she burrows into his side, and the warmth he feels spreading through him, he knows, has as much to do with the fierceness of her heart as the closeness of her body.