Happy birthday, Ignoble Bard: Thranduil Goes to Hell

[randy_o]

New birthday story for Ignoble Bard, written in the Jael!verse and borrowing certain elements from the Pande!verse with her gracious permission.

Thranduil Goes To Hell

Comments

[ignoblebard]

I can’t tell you what a welcome treat this Halloween birthday offering is. I have missed your writing more than you know

[heartofoshun]

Jeez! Finally reading now! I've been sick and mess ever since you posted this! But I'm on it now!!

[heartofoshun]

OMG! You have not lost your touch. This is terrific. A laugh a minute--actually more often than that--more like every five to ten words. The timing is impeccable also. Damn we certainly do need some stewards to whip the world back into shape, even more than when you first started writing this story-verse.

So many great lines! Here's one:

“What, does Fëanor want to be let out again? Just tell him no, and this time, say it like you mean it.”

Trump and architecture:

I once had Donald Trump on his knees and agreeing to pay me for my wasted time when he tried to buy one of my buildings. Give him a Louis Sullivan to remodel into an imitation of Versailles Palace? I think not.”

Deerfield Costco!! -- I have actually never been one for shopping at huge wholesale stores. Not for lack of interest, but no car and always stuck in the inner-city.

You are excellent at nailing voices of the Ainuir, Manwe, for example:

“Now that we're all here except for those who can't be arsed to come, we can get down to business. Námo, bring forth our newest

[randy_o]

I've been sick myself. My beloved petrie dish of a grandson gave me a bad chest cold that isn't over after more than a week.

As for the story, I wrote it in the fall of 2016, which you might have picked up from certain pop culture references. "Suck my nuts" were the final words of the inimitable Abner Ford on AMC's Walking Dead, who died that fall. That was the final six months of my mother's life, and I'm only now regaining my verve. I've never shopped in a Costco myself, but I do love mixing the grandeur of the Elves with something totally banal. As for the blue parrot, it didn't occur to me who he was until Ibwas writing the final paragraphs. If I told ya, I'd have to kill ya! LOL

[heartofoshun]

All right then! I'll have to keep thinking about it. I have a couple of ideas, but I'm going to be all secretive about those!

That was the final six months of my mother's life, and I'm only now regaining my verve.

Totally can relate. There are certain life-altering events which can knock one for a loop and make writing feel like it is not an option. When it comes to me and writing, I do best somewhere in the middle--too happy and I'm having too much fun to want to lock myself in my room and write. Too miserable and I can't write either.

[randy_o]

I have to feel a certain kind of joy to write, and joy was in very short supply. Also, it is a clinical phenomenon that caring for a person with dementia day to day will reduce the caregiver's cognitive abilities by half. It is largely the stress of having one brain to function for two people, one of whom has little memory, is often unreasonable by normal human standards, hence very uncooperative, and attempting to communicate with a person who is ostensibly speaking English but the words and phrases mean entirely something else. It can also take a few years off potential longevity. I would explain to my mother that I was her mentat, her external hard drive and she didn't have to worry about losing her important memories because they were safe in my head. The same with organizing her life, her health needs, and her finances. I was still capable of ,ogical thought at my previous level, but my short term memory began to be shot to shit. I'm still not completely back. I still grope for words that I damn well know I know, and I