Drabble it
And so, obviously I spend as much time on the internet, with or without my favourite computer (which, according to my comp guy, is ready for collection - whew - I was worried that I'd damage my motherboard). drabble_it is my latest challenge - I have adopted a 500-prompt table?!@!- Lord help me. I have also started constructing my own website - which I will get back to once my beloved is back on my table. But meanwhile...
I write slash *twiddle thumbs* If you don't know what that word is, don't read, darlings. *grin*
Series Name: More Unfinished Tales
Author: Dest
Fandom or Original: Middle Earth
Character(s): Erestor, Glorfindel, Fingolfin
Challenge Table: Rainbow Super Table
Prompt Word(s): sacrifice, fever, lust, mist, restless
Rating:PG
Disclaimer: I don't own ME or any of these characters. I merely borrow them. And what's quenya for mother - amil?
110. Sacrifice
"Amil? Amil?"
Glorfindel trudged away from the elleth half-buried in the snow, not daring to look down at the groggy elfling hidden snugly within his winter coat. What words could he have for the child? The child only survived the last storm because his mother had sheltered him from the merciless winds, covering him within her warm embrace till at bitter last, the ice took her.
Sweet Elbereth, how many have we left buried in these slopes?
The snow was already beginning to erase the last remaining memories of the fallen even as Glorfindel hugged the future closer to him.
121. fever
Glorfindel took a mouthful of snow and waited anxiously for it to melt in his mouth, his eyes never leaving the elf in his arms. Bending down he closed his mouth over the other's and willed the weaker elf to swallow what little water there was.
He knew well. Here in the Helcarxe, the flames of a fever killed as swiftly as the chills in the wind.
His heart leapt unsteadily as the elf choked slightly and struggled to open his eyes. Pulling the elf up to sit against him, he whispered harshly, "Don't you dare die on me, Erestor."
10. lust
"This is unbearable," Glorfindel grumbled as he looked balefully at Erestor.
Erestor rolled his eyes, as he huddled more closely against the rocky wall. Glorfindel moved closer behind Erestor and slipping his arms around his lover, hugged him close and nearly whimpered, "Why not?"
Glorfindel's desire was all but burning against him but still Erestor's only response bordered on incredulity, "Does it not occur to you that we are fighting the deadly cold in the middle of a snow storm, in the depths of the Helcarxe and in the company of, say, a few thousand kinsmen?"
"But I want you."
181. mist
Turgon stared at his cousin, who was combing his fingers through the empty air and laughing with an insane hilarity. Turning back at Fingolfin and his companions, he muttered with no little bewilderment, "He is usually more reserved."
"That he is," Fingolfin observed with some worry. "The fever might have gotten to him,."
Just then, Erestor turned back to them and shouted, "Mist!"
When they could only look at him blankly with an assortment of pity and anxiety, Erestor threw his hands up and laughed, "Mist, sillies! Mist! The air must be getting warmer! Our journey is nearing its end!"
446. restless
Erestor fiddled with his quill and struggled to find something noteworthy to put to the scroll in front of him. He had hoped, rather foolishly he had to admit, that they had left insanely long meetings behind on Valinor. Had they not already learnt that life was short even for immortals and quite honestly, they really no longer had all the time in the world as they had assumed while on the Blessed Isle?"
"I cannot but express our deepest gratitude to our hosts..." Fingolfin's voice droned on.
Erestor contemplated assassination, but groaned, half-wishing they were back in the Helcarxe.
I write slash *twiddle thumbs* If you don't know what that word is, don't read, darlings. *grin*
Series Name: More Unfinished Tales
Author: Dest
Fandom or Original: Middle Earth
Character(s): Erestor, Glorfindel, Fingolfin
Challenge Table: Rainbow Super Table
Prompt Word(s): sacrifice, fever, lust, mist, restless
Rating:PG
Disclaimer: I don't own ME or any of these characters. I merely borrow them. And what's quenya for mother - amil?
110. Sacrifice
"Amil? Amil?"
Glorfindel trudged away from the elleth half-buried in the snow, not daring to look down at the groggy elfling hidden snugly within his winter coat. What words could he have for the child? The child only survived the last storm because his mother had sheltered him from the merciless winds, covering him within her warm embrace till at bitter last, the ice took her.
Sweet Elbereth, how many have we left buried in these slopes?
The snow was already beginning to erase the last remaining memories of the fallen even as Glorfindel hugged the future closer to him.
121. fever
Glorfindel took a mouthful of snow and waited anxiously for it to melt in his mouth, his eyes never leaving the elf in his arms. Bending down he closed his mouth over the other's and willed the weaker elf to swallow what little water there was.
He knew well. Here in the Helcarxe, the flames of a fever killed as swiftly as the chills in the wind.
His heart leapt unsteadily as the elf choked slightly and struggled to open his eyes. Pulling the elf up to sit against him, he whispered harshly, "Don't you dare die on me, Erestor."
10. lust
"This is unbearable," Glorfindel grumbled as he looked balefully at Erestor.
Erestor rolled his eyes, as he huddled more closely against the rocky wall. Glorfindel moved closer behind Erestor and slipping his arms around his lover, hugged him close and nearly whimpered, "Why not?"
Glorfindel's desire was all but burning against him but still Erestor's only response bordered on incredulity, "Does it not occur to you that we are fighting the deadly cold in the middle of a snow storm, in the depths of the Helcarxe and in the company of, say, a few thousand kinsmen?"
"But I want you."
181. mist
Turgon stared at his cousin, who was combing his fingers through the empty air and laughing with an insane hilarity. Turning back at Fingolfin and his companions, he muttered with no little bewilderment, "He is usually more reserved."
"That he is," Fingolfin observed with some worry. "The fever might have gotten to him,."
Just then, Erestor turned back to them and shouted, "Mist!"
When they could only look at him blankly with an assortment of pity and anxiety, Erestor threw his hands up and laughed, "Mist, sillies! Mist! The air must be getting warmer! Our journey is nearing its end!"
446. restless
Erestor fiddled with his quill and struggled to find something noteworthy to put to the scroll in front of him. He had hoped, rather foolishly he had to admit, that they had left insanely long meetings behind on Valinor. Had they not already learnt that life was short even for immortals and quite honestly, they really no longer had all the time in the world as they had assumed while on the Blessed Isle?"
"I cannot but express our deepest gratitude to our hosts..." Fingolfin's voice droned on.
Erestor contemplated assassination, but groaned, half-wishing they were back in the Helcarxe.