Hermitknut's challenge drabbles
hermitknut posted a challenge at the beginning of the month and I decided to participate. I got five rhyming stanzas from Simon Armitage's translation of "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight" that hermitknut provided. I am putting each drabble behind a cut which has the text of the stanza that was provided for the prompt. lewisian_gneiss provided beta assistance. And as with all fanfic, I don't own any of the characters yada yada. Drabble 3 is probably R and drabble 4 is PG, maybe. I suck at ratings. Let me know if I got any of these wrong. And comment and let me know what you thought:D
The green man steered his gaze
deep into every eye,
explored each person’s face
to probe for a reply.
“By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.” Nipping exposed flesh, chilled wind announced the arrival of the Witchfinder. Pale green eyes bore into souls, probing for answers. With a tranquility belying the inquisition, he smoothly asked questions, pinning his subjects with an unwavering stare. Sitting, striding, standing at his ease, calculating to unnerve, to make the one being questioned question himself. Weaving webs of words, the Witchfinder produced answers with little regard for the lives of the people involved. Perhaps a lack of heart enabled him to do this cruel work, rooting out innocent magic users.
He trails through bleak terrain.
His mood and manner change
at every twist and turn
towards that chosen church.
Stringy grey hair frames a pale haunted face. Uther sits, hunched over, worrying mindlessly at his left cuff with blunt calloused fingers. Suddenly, the broken king smiles as he remembers an exuberant lass twirling in his chambers; long black silken hair flying out parallel to the rich silken skirt she wore with a big smile on her face. A knock on the door and the entrance of Gwen breaks his reverie. His smile falters and he slumps again, realizing that he has lost his precious daughter. No more will he be charmed by her schemes or swayed by her passions.
That lovely looking maid,
she charmed him and she chased.
But every move she made
he countered, case by case.
A smile crept onto Gwen’s face, blossoming into a grin, as she coyly ducked her head and said “Hello Lancelot. Can I bring you some dinner?” Laughing, he said, “I’m utterly charmed my lady, but beast waits not. I’ll eat on horseback.”
-----
Putting her hand on the knight’s arm, she asked, “Will you be needing a bed for the night?” “No” he replied, “we’ve only come to replenish supplies and will be leaving shortly.”
------
Hips rising and bucking, she moaned with pleasure and breathed out “Lancelot, stay.” Flushed, he replied with a groan, “I cannot stay. Duty calls.”
They talk with tenderness
and pride, and yet their plight
is perilous unless
sweet Mary minds her night.
Giggles erupted from the kitchen as Mary walked in to find Arthur and Merlin coated in a thin layer of flour. They had decided to make a cake. Puddles of egg dripped from the counter onto the floor and flour coated everything. “Oh, Morgana will love this,” Merlin proudly said, decanting the batter into the pan. Arthur gently put his arm ‘round Merlin’s shoulder and dipped a finger into the goo. Slowly sucking on rich batter, he whispered, “I love it.” He tipped a covered finger into Merlin’s mouth to suck. Mary backed out, swearing to keep her own counsel.
Our brave knight bowed, his head
hung low - but not too low!
‘Young sir,’ the green man said,
‘your visit keeps your vow.’
Kilgharrah laughed as the young warlock bent low, bowing solemnly. “You’ve come to make good on your vow, I see,” the dragon said. Merlin straightened, looking the dragon in the eye, and said, “I’ve made a promise and I mean to keep it, but I am not happy.” The great beast gently said, “You are a good man.” The slender magician worried his lip as he worked his way down the cool cavern. Dragging his feet, sword held carelessly, he approached the enormous chain. “Come on,” the dragon boomed. Merlin stiffened with resolved, spoke, and struck, freeing the mighty dragon.
The green man steered his gaze
deep into every eye,
explored each person’s face
to probe for a reply.
“By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.” Nipping exposed flesh, chilled wind announced the arrival of the Witchfinder. Pale green eyes bore into souls, probing for answers. With a tranquility belying the inquisition, he smoothly asked questions, pinning his subjects with an unwavering stare. Sitting, striding, standing at his ease, calculating to unnerve, to make the one being questioned question himself. Weaving webs of words, the Witchfinder produced answers with little regard for the lives of the people involved. Perhaps a lack of heart enabled him to do this cruel work, rooting out innocent magic users.
He trails through bleak terrain.
His mood and manner change
at every twist and turn
towards that chosen church.
Stringy grey hair frames a pale haunted face. Uther sits, hunched over, worrying mindlessly at his left cuff with blunt calloused fingers. Suddenly, the broken king smiles as he remembers an exuberant lass twirling in his chambers; long black silken hair flying out parallel to the rich silken skirt she wore with a big smile on her face. A knock on the door and the entrance of Gwen breaks his reverie. His smile falters and he slumps again, realizing that he has lost his precious daughter. No more will he be charmed by her schemes or swayed by her passions.
That lovely looking maid,
she charmed him and she chased.
But every move she made
he countered, case by case.
A smile crept onto Gwen’s face, blossoming into a grin, as she coyly ducked her head and said “Hello Lancelot. Can I bring you some dinner?” Laughing, he said, “I’m utterly charmed my lady, but beast waits not. I’ll eat on horseback.”
-----
Putting her hand on the knight’s arm, she asked, “Will you be needing a bed for the night?” “No” he replied, “we’ve only come to replenish supplies and will be leaving shortly.”
------
Hips rising and bucking, she moaned with pleasure and breathed out “Lancelot, stay.” Flushed, he replied with a groan, “I cannot stay. Duty calls.”
They talk with tenderness
and pride, and yet their plight
is perilous unless
sweet Mary minds her night.
Giggles erupted from the kitchen as Mary walked in to find Arthur and Merlin coated in a thin layer of flour. They had decided to make a cake. Puddles of egg dripped from the counter onto the floor and flour coated everything. “Oh, Morgana will love this,” Merlin proudly said, decanting the batter into the pan. Arthur gently put his arm ‘round Merlin’s shoulder and dipped a finger into the goo. Slowly sucking on rich batter, he whispered, “I love it.” He tipped a covered finger into Merlin’s mouth to suck. Mary backed out, swearing to keep her own counsel.
Our brave knight bowed, his head
hung low - but not too low!
‘Young sir,’ the green man said,
‘your visit keeps your vow.’
Kilgharrah laughed as the young warlock bent low, bowing solemnly. “You’ve come to make good on your vow, I see,” the dragon said. Merlin straightened, looking the dragon in the eye, and said, “I’ve made a promise and I mean to keep it, but I am not happy.” The great beast gently said, “You are a good man.” The slender magician worried his lip as he worked his way down the cool cavern. Dragging his feet, sword held carelessly, he approached the enormous chain. “Come on,” the dragon boomed. Merlin stiffened with resolved, spoke, and struck, freeing the mighty dragon.