Forum: HASA Birthday Cards Forum

Discussing: March 2008 Birthdays

March 2008 Birthdays

Hello everyone,

I hope March will inspire some requests and drabbles from our membership!

Is your birthday this month? State a request here, and I'm sure your fellow HASA members would be delighted to gift you a little story as a present.

Create a workshop story, a place to collect your birthday cards - and a chance to enter the March 2008 Challenge.

If you have questions, need help with anything or encounter a problem, please don't hesitate to ask me, here or via a private e-mail!



March, 14: Elena Tiriel: I'd love a drabble about any character, event, place, or object from Tolkien's world that especially fascinates you... the (Middle-earth) sky's the limit!

March, 20: Vistula the Dunadan: ...having spent the past nine months settling into a new - long anticipated - home, I'd love a drabble centered around a new home, or new place to live. And if you could slip my dear Samwise in it somehow, that'd be even sweeter.

March, 24: Obsidianj: I would like a drabble about either Aragorn or Boromir and if it would be possible to have both in one drabble that would make my day.



Re: March 2008 Birthdays

It's not my birthday, but today (March 2nd) is Mother's Day here in the UK.  How about drabbles with any mother and child of your choice?




Re: March 2008 Birthdays

My birthday is March 24 and I would like a drabble about either Aragorn or Boromir and if it would be possible to have both in one drabble that would make my day.




Re: March 2008 Birthdays

How about a matched pair?

Thoughts on the Heir of Isildur


            Who is this who calls himself the heir to Isildur?  Though when I saw him first he gleamed in Elvish armor, and was garbed as a prince at the Council of Elrond; yet now he wears worn leathers and threadbare leggings and scuffed boots, his face weatherworn and wary.  What does such as he know of our struggle against the Enemy, to keep the integrity of our land?

            If he thinks that I shall follow him blindly merely due to his claims of breeding....  We of the House of Húrin are of as attested blood as he!

            We shall see.


            My brother--my captain--my King!

            There--I have done it--given my fealty at last to the heir of Isildur.  Though Isildur fell to the lure of the Ring, yet this one has proven to be of better stuff in the end--certainly better than this fallen son of Gondor.

            Go to them--see them victorious against the Enemy!   Let my people, my land, my city, know your integrity and courage and wisdom!  Let Anduril shine against the foe!

            I betrayed myself and my land--and Frodo.  You have not done so, Aragorn.  May my brother prove a worthy Steward to a worthy King.

            Hail, Elessar!



Re: March 2008 Birthdays

Hi everyone!

My birthday is March 14, and I'd love a drabble about any character, event, place, or object from Tolkien's world that especially fascinates you... the (Middle-earth) sky's the limit!

But beware! Three years ago I started a drabble series about a couple of vaguely interesting Peredhel brothers, but since then the series has grown to 90 drabbles (many not posted yet) and I have fallen in love with the characters.... who knew?

- Barbara



Re: March 2008 Birthdays

*crawling out of lurkdom*

My birthday is March 20, and having spent the past nine months settling into a new - long anticipated - home, I'd love a drabble centered around a new home, or new place to live. And if you could slip my dear Samwise in it somehow, that'd be even sweeter.




Re: March 2008 Birthdays

My birthday is March 20, and having spent the past nine months settling into a new - long anticipated - home, I'd love a drabble centered around a new home, or new place to live. And if you could slip my dear Samwise in it somehow, that'd be even sweeter.

Vistula - Crawling out of lurkdom



Re: March 2008 Birthdays

My birthday is March 20, and having spent the past nine months settling into a new - long anticipated - home, I'd love a drabble centered around a new home, or new place to live. And if you could slip my dear Samwise in it somehow, that'd be even sweeter.

Vistula - Crawling out of lurkdom



Re: March 2008 Birthdays

My birthday is March 20, and having spent the past nine months settling into a new - long anticipated - home, I'd love a drabble centered around a new home, or new place to live. And if you could slip my dear Samwise in it somehow, that'd be even sweeter.

Vistula - Crawling out of lurkdom



Re: March 2008 Birthdays

Sorry, kept getting error messages...

My apologies for posting a zillion time!

Vistula...the rusty!



Re: March 2008 Birthdays

When you crawl out of lurkdom, Vistula, I must greet you!  Here!

New Quarters 

            Rosie Cotton searched her Sam's eyes.  "You're foolin' me!" 

            "No, Rosie, I'm not.  And he means it--means every word of it.  He wants for us to come live with him, there in Bag End."


            "As his servants?"


             "No--as his brother and his brother's wife--that's what he told me.  And I'll tell you this, my Mr. Frodo--he don't say things like that lightly." 

            On their wedding day she saw the room prepared for them--not a smaller room at the far end of the hall, but the master bedroom itself.


             So much does he think of my Sam! she thought with wonder.



Re: March 2008 Birthdays

And for you, Elena Tiriel:


             "He's no longer our little brother, you know."

            Elladan nodded thoughtfully.  "In this you are right, muindor nín.  Nay, I fear he left that state long ago."

            "How did he manage to do so, and we never noticed?" Elrohir asked.

            What could Elladan say?  "For all his upbringing in our adar's house, today he is wholly a Man--and in many ways is more kingly than I've seen yet amongst Elves."

            Together they watched the newly crowned King, the Ringbearer and Mithrandir by his side, enter into his inheritance at last, seeing him the Man blest by the Creator he was.



Re: Epiphany


Squeeeeee! Oh, Larner, this is lovely!

I was not expecting anyone to respond so quickly... this is a very welcome surprise and gift! And my favorite brothers, to boot... *big fangurly sigh*

The scruffy Ranger did clean up rather well, didn't he? And he is fortunate to have older brothers... and also his wife's older brothers...  to keep him from getting a big head.

Thank you so much for this treat, Larner!

- Barbara 



Re: Epiphany

Yes, they may help Aragorn keep from developing a swelled head, but at the same time they have realized he has now grown beyond them.  They must allow him to stand alone when needful now--indeed, as he is mortal he is in some ways on ground they will never tread unless one of them chooses to make the choice of mortality.  They are finally seeing the divide between the two races, I think, and that he truly stands on that side.



Re: March 2008 Birthdays

Squeeeeeeee! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Larner. And a splendid drabble it is!

And with my dear Sam in it as well.

I love that you've stressed the fact that they are equals in the's exactly how I picture them being.

Thanks again!




Re: March 2008 Birthdays

Ooh, now I've been squeeeeee'd twice in one day!  I'm so glad you appreciate it, Vistula.  And, oh, yes--they are brothers in the eyes of both, and I'd never think Frodo would ever see the two as being less than he was.  I'm so glad it pleases.



Re: Thoughts on the heir of Isildur

 Oh, I love this Larner. It shows the journey of Boromir so clearly, from proud heights to despair and to hope for the future of his people.



Re: Thoughts on the heir of Isildur

I'm so glad you like it, Obsidianj.  May you know joy on your birthday.

And, Jay--yours will be posted, I hope, on Easter morning.



For Elena Tiriel

 After the funeral of Théoden, Elladan and Elrohir learn of an ancient legend to which they hold the key.  But are some mysteries best left unsolved?

The Legend Of The Grey Riders

Smoke lingered in the rafters of the Golden Hall of Meduseld.  Wood smoke, candle smoke and pipe smoke mingled with the fumes of ale and wine, making the eyes sting and the senses swim. Théoden had been returned to Rohan, and buried among the mounds of his fathers,  but the sorrow and solemnity of the occasion had given way to joy as folk put away sorrow and celebrated the betrothal of Éowyn and Faramir.

"As new bonds are forged between Rohan and Gondor, I will tell you now of the start of our alliance!"  Eomer's voice held the gathering spellbound as he recited one of the ancient tales. "Listen as I tell you of the Ride of Eorl, and the great battle of the field of Celebrant:  'The day had gone down in the West, behind the hills into shadow; and a great darkness hung over the land'." 

Elladan turned to his brother with a questioning look, but said nothing.  Éowyn, sitting so closely with Faramir, leaned towards them.  "This is one of our oldest tales,"  she whispered.  "It tells how Eorl helped Cirion of Gondor win a great victory, and was granted the lands which became Rohan in thanks."

"Silence and dread stalked the plains,"  Éomer continued.

Elladan edged closer to his twin.  "That is not quite how I recall it,"  he whispered.

"No - it was midday in summer,"  Elrohir whispered back.  "I remember the skylarks singing."

Éowyn frowned at them from across the table.  "Hush!  Listen to Éomer's tale.  You might learn something of our history!"

"A great horde of orcs swept across the grasslands, driven before a mighty army!"

"Well, they have that part right at least!"  Elladan settled back to listen, curious to hear the rest of the tale.

"At the forefront of the charge rode two great horsemen, clad all in grey."

Elrohir had just taken a sip of wine.  He coughed and choked, setting his goblet down with a clatter.  "What did he just say?"  he hissed.

Éowyn glared at them again.  "Hush!"  she repeated.

"Aye, hush, little brother,"  Elladan agreed.  "I want to hear this."  He leaned forward, listening avidly as Éomer continued the saga.

Finally the epic tale rolled on to its close.  "Who the two mighty warriors were, legend does not tell.  When the battle was won, they could not be found.  But from that day on, there was friendship between the lands of Rohan and Gondor!"  There was applause and wild cheering, and the Riders stamped their feet in approval.

As the cheers and shouts died away, Éomer crossed the floor and joined his sister.  "Well done!"  she congratulated him.  "I have never heard you tell it better!"

He smiled.  "Thank you, sister.  Have you ever heard the tale before?"  he asked the twins.

"Not quite like that, no,"  Elladan agreed.  He glanced at Elrohir.

"The two riders,"  Elrohir prompted.  "Does the legend say any more of them?"

Éomer shook his head.  "It remains a mystery - the legend of the Grey Riders. Our historians and masters of lore can find no trace of them."  He shrugged.  "Perhaps they never existed.  The bards of old were not always accurate."

"They were there!"  Éowyn insisted.

"But were they real?"  Éomer argued.  He glanced at Elladan and Elrohir.  "Forgive me.  This is a matter of learned debate in Rohan.  Were the Grey Riders real, or a fiction invented to add mystery to the tale?"  He laughed, shaking his head.  "You do not want to hear the old arguments!"

"Oh, but we do,"  Elladan insisted.

"Our father is a master of lore too,"  Elrohir added.  "He would be most interested in the legend!"

Éowyn laughed at them.  "You will regret this!"  she warned.  "You will never stop him now!"

Éomer rested his elbows on the table, ignoring her.  "There are some who believe that the Grey Riders were an intervention of the Valar to save Gondor and force this turn of history.  Others think they were the spirits of long-dead warriors or kings; returned to save the land in its direst need.  Me - well, we live in more enlightened times.  I do not believe in spirits or angels!"

"You did not believe in Elves or Halflings either!"  Éowyn pointed out.

Éomer nodded in acknowledgement.  "Very well.  Some stories and legends may be true.  But the Grey Riders?" 

He and Éowyn fell into a well-worn debate as they argued the familiar topic.  Elladan, still with one eye on the pair, half turned to Elrohir.  "I have never been described as an agent of the Valar before,"  he murmured.  "I rather like it."

"Aye.  It certainly has a better ring than spawn of Melkor as Erestor called us.   But to be thought a figment of the imagination of some bard?  I do not like that idea at all!"

They watched as Éomer prodded the air to make some point.  "He has a look of Eorl,"  Elladan commented.

Elrohir nodded.  "Aye.  But more care-worn."

Faramir, listening to the heated argument with interest, tore his attention away and turned to the twins in disbelief.  "You knew Eorl?"


"You were there?"  At Elrohir's nod, Faramir continued, "Then you would be able to solve this debate once and for all!   Did you see these Riders?  Were they really there like the legends say?"

"Well ..."

"In a manner of speaking ..." 

Something in their manner gave them away.  Faramir stared at the twins, his eyes widening.  "You?  It was you?"  He glanced at Éowyn and Éomer, still locked in a heated debate.  "Will you tell them that you are the Grey Riders of the legend?"

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a swift glance.  "Well ..."

"It is never wise to become embroiled in an argument between siblings ..."

Faramir nodded, his eyes still on Éowyn.  "True."

"Then some mysteries are best left unsolved."

The End



Re: For Elena Tiriel

The Legend of the Grey Riders


I don't know what else to say, Jay, but squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

This story is fabulous! I love all the details of the scene, and how you wove everything together seamlessly, like the betrothal bringing up the beginnings of the alliance....

And I just love how the twins react!

I squeeed in more detail on your LJ at, but let me thank you again for this lovely treat!

- Barbara, walking on air



Re: March 2008 Birthdays


 I love to see how proud the twins are of their little brother here :>)




Re: Thoughts on the heir of Isildur

'And, Jay--yours will be posted, I hope, on Easter morning.'


I can't wait!  Thank you, Larner!




Re: For Elena Tiriel


I'm so glad you liked it!  The idea has been at the back of my mind for ages, and the story suddenly came together a few days ago.  I think your request kick-started the muse ...



Re: March 2008 Birthdays

Yes, I think the twins are both proud and perhaps somewhat in awe of what their Estel has become.  So glad you like it, too.  And Easter is coming.  Heh!



Re: For Elena Tiriel

The Legend Of The Grey Riders

 This is great. I love Elladan's and Elrohir's reaction to the tale and their wise advice to never get embroiled in a sibling disputeWink. They probably know  best what they speak of.




Re: For Elena Tiriel

Thanks - I'm glad you liked it!  The sibling dispute comments have got me thinking again - what would happen to anyone who tried to interfere in an argument between the twins?  Grin




For Obsidianj - The King's Colors

 Happy birthday, Obsidianj! This is an AU ficlet that had been running about my head. Hope you enjoy.


The King's Colors

Six days. From the Dawnless day 'til deliverance, the siege had lasted six interminable days, and Pelennor would need years to cover the scars in new grass. Years we may not have, Boromir thought, as he moved among the smoking ruins and the bodies, feeling the ground hot with the memory of fire, and yet wet – too wet, and he knew he'd trail blood after him all the way up to the Citadel. They all would. But that was not his concern – exhausted as he was, he could bear but one concern, and his eyes fixed upon the tall, stern stranger with his strange escort – grey-cloaked Dúnedain, one so fair he could not be born of mortal Man, and a dwarf with a blood-stained axe resting casually on a broad shoulder. And all of them standing beneath that splendid-dreadful banner.

They met upon the field, perhaps a mile from the broken gates – Boromir with his men arrayed against the northern captain and his allies, and the two commanders gazed at each other, in the habit of men accustomed to judge. It was the stranger who spoke first.

"Lord Boromir," he said, and gave him a nod. Boromir stared at him a moment longer, before he answered, somewhat abruptly:

"You have the advantage of me, sir."

"Perhaps," the other replied, enigmatically. Then: "'Tis no mystery though: you look much like your brother."

At this, Boromir felt every muscle tense. "You've spoken with him? You're from Imladris in the far North?"

"I am Aragorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain of Eriador. But yes, I met your brother in Imladris."

Gondor's Captain-General drew a deep breath, closed his eyes a moment – news at long last! But with knowledge came dread, and his face was hard as he opened his eyes once more to pin the other with his gaze.

"He shall not come home to Gondor, shall he?" he asked at length. Aragorn, credit to him, made no excuse nor condolence, merely answered directly, quietly:

"No, he shall not." And they were as a blade, those words, that slipped in between the chinks in his armor to strike full home, and the pain of it was worse than he had imagined it ever could be. For: It should have been me! A Valar, it should have been me! And he cursed inwardly the duty that had hemmed him here, and the vision that had claimed his brother. But he was not only the grieved brother of his brother – he was his father's son, and Gondor's Captain-General, and all the authority of Minas Tirith to treat with on this field, and so he lifted his chin, squared weary shoulders, and answered:

"And what shall I tell the Steward of your intentions, then, Lord Aragorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain of Eriador, that you come to us with an army at your back – our army, in part?" he added.

Aragorn gazed at him a long moment, before of a sudden, he gestured to his escort, who reluctantly retreated several paces, just out of easy ear-shot, though the elf and dwarf remained at his side. Then: "Send to the Steward your father that the debt of Aranarth is fulfilled this day – Arnor has delivered Gondor, even as Eärnur delivered Aranarth. If he would speak of it, I will come to him if he will, and otherwise, he is welcome in our camp. As for the other news," he said, and grave grey eyes rested once more heavily upon him, "do not send to your father, but be yourself my herald."

Boromir could hear the murmuring at his back, and quickly he turned and made a quelling gesture with one hand – Silence! When they had obeyed, he looked once more at Aragorn, and felt a strange, ambivalent hesitation grip him. His father, he knew, would wish him to return as swiftly as possible to make report of this stranger – an intimate stranger, perhaps, who stood beneath Elendil's royal crest. But...

"Is the price of heraldry always so high in your employ, sir?" he asked gruffly, folding his arms over his chest.

Which was hardly a heraldly thing to say, nor perhaps fitting for the son of the Steward to this particular man, but Aragorn seemed to take no offense. Indeed, he merely gave a soft snort, as of amusement, though there was a sadness in it that belied all such humor. "In these days, all service is dear-bought," he answered.

"My service is not bought yet," he warned, and got a gracious nod in response.

"No, I do not imagine it is," Aragorn replied. "Hear us out, then, as Faramir's brother, and as his brother, rather than my herald, take such word to your father as may comfort grief."

It was Boromir's turn to snort and he looked out over the field – over the dead and the dying lying beneath a stained and torn white banner – and said softly, "You will forgive me if I doubt that there is any comfort to be had in this."

"Perhaps not. But perhaps there is. Will you not come and hear us, so that you may be decided?"

There was more in that question than the words – Boromir had not been raised with so deaf an ear as Faramir had liked to tease him, and again he hesitated, gaze flicking from Aragorn to that banner that could not be ignored. Come and be decided – as if there were nothing between them but the death of one they had both, perhaps, loved. Aragorn watched him closely, and he knew that look from all the days in his father's company – too shrewd, all too shrewd a measure of men, for there to be such pity as he saw also in that gaze!

Boromir was a proud man; he did not ask for boons or pardon from burdens – the same thing, to his mind. To be so looked upon was rare, and rarely welcomed – usually only from Faramir. Despite exhaustion, he could feel his back stiffen, and resentment stir in his breast, so that it was on the tip of his tongue to refuse, to insist on hearing the matter now and departing forthwith. A moment, he stood there, poised to be decided, indeed, but something in the other's quiet would not let him. There was a stillness to him that seemed somehow to rob Boromir of any force he might have mustered – not by any great resistance, but somehow, that stillness made all such protest seem... useless. Meaningless. And perhaps... unwanted? Or was that simply exhaustion and grief speaking?

Boromir did not know, but he knew full well that when he returned to his father, Denethor at least would see him no more the loyal son. But there is nothing for it – for here is one that my brother loved who can tell me of him. He knew not whence such knowledge came to him, yet he did not doubt its truth for it carried with its own strange conviction. And so:

"Farold, take word to the Steward that Lord Aragorn would speak with him – at his pleasure, on the field or in the hall. And tell him, too, that I shall be some little while delayed," he said over his shoulder, without taking his eyes from the other's face. "The rest of you," he ordered, and gestured to Aragorn's guard, "join these gentlemen for a time."

"Where?" he asked finally, when his men had departed, and he gestured to the bloody field. "Or shall we sit upon the edge of ruin and speak?"

"We will find a place. Come," Aragorn said, and held out a hand to him. This time, Boromir did not hesitate – he stepped forward and clasped it, felt the other press firmly, as he gave Boromir a slight, sad smile, and repeated, "Come."



Re: For Obsidianj - The King's Colors

Grin Oh, thank you, Dwim. I love this. At first it took me by surprise that Boromir lived, but then I eagerly followed the clues to the different backstory of this quest. This time Boromir didn't have the weeks of the quest to warm to Aragorn. He has to decide on the spot, and it is difficult for him. But Aragorn has grown, so I have every hope that Aragorn will win him over. I think he is already halfway there. His thoughts about what will happen when he returns to his father tell me that.

I will have to read it again. There is so much said in such a short piece.

Thank you,




Re: March 2008 Birthdays

Okay, Jay--my gift to you and mothers everywhere.  You know, I think, that I have seen Frodo and Sam originally having  been intended to be Aragorn's actual brothers, with Frodo as Aragorn's fraternal twin and the most Elvish of the three, and Sam as their younger brother.  What of when at last Frodo is reunited with his own mother and finally meets the one who had hoped to know that office?

Anyway, enjoy.  And thanks to RiverOtter for the Beta.

Home Is Where the Heart Is

            Ah, here he comes, Drogo--he's awakening at last.

            Son, are you indeed waking up?  Yes, sweetling--you've had a time of it, haven't you?  But you're safe now.

            He felt the warmth surrounding him, the love there waiting to greet him, once he opened his eyes.  For just a moment longer he kept them closed, prolonging the anticipation, enjoying the feel of familiar arms encircling him, smelling the faint odor of Longbottom Leaf that had always surrounded his father, and the slightly tangier scent of Old Toby that had always been a sign that Bilbo was visiting, and his mother's violet water with which she'd always rinsed her linens....

            And at last he opened his eyes, seeing his mother's smiling down into his, his father just beyond her shoulder.

            He's here at last?  That question stopped him, for the familiar voice was not that of a Hobbit at all, and had last been heard at Amon Hen, demanding the Ring--save for the echoes of it calling for forgiveness he'd barely been aware of as he'd fled up to the Seat of Seeing....

            He turned to look up into the visage of the Heir of Denethor glowing in joy.  Boromir no longer looked as he had then.  And the figures that surrounded him were not precisely as they'd been before the boating accident in the Shire, either. 

            He's completely out of his reckoning for the moment, commented an amused Belle Gamgee, her eyes shining, garbed as a simple Queen.

            So we see, laughed his Aunt Menegilda, now gloriously tall and fair, her arm negligently around the shoulders of a shining prince that must be the True Shape for Uncle Rorimac.

            Frodo looked around, saw the golden Guardian that Sam had become, and laughed with delight.  Throwing his arms about the glowing figures of former mother and father, he turned to face the Teacher Bilbo had become.

            Well, my dear boy, would you like to meet the one who'd first hoped for the honor of being your mother within Arda?  Let me introduce the Lady Gilraen....

            Gilorhael?  Even that voice was familiar as he looked into eyes as filled with love and joy as were those of the one who'd once been Primula Brandybuck Baggins.  And his mother easily loosed him to the embrace of the other who could as easily have been his mother....

            Funny, this embrace felt no different from that of the one who had served as his mother.

            Mummy--and Nana!  He laughed with growing pleasure, and found himself smiling up into the eyes of he who had been Fredegar Bolger.  Freddy! he laughed.  My brothers begin to gather!

            That we do, Freddy smiled back, as well balanced and finely garbed as any knight of the realm who'd ever graced Aragorn's court in either Minas Anor or Annúminas.

            Filled with a joy that could no longer be contained, Frodo suddenly moved apart to begin dancing, catching Bilbo and Drogo and the unknown other one who stood with them--he felt the aura of great responsibility and authority to him, and knew he danced with Arathorn son of Arador, who danced as lightly and skillfully as the three former Hobbits, and then Sam was joining them as well, having just been released from Gilraen's and Rosie's joint embrace.  Song surrounded them--sustained them--filled them; and their dance added to the Song as they rejoiced in the renewed Reality about them.

            And then Rorimac and Fredegar and Saradoc and Paladin were joining the dance, and those who'd been women of the Shire and the Angle created their own circle outside that of the menfolk.

            And when Frodo found that Boromir danced beside him in equal joy to his own he laughed with sheer delight!

            He caught the eyes of Primula as she flashed past, hand in hand with Gilraen.  It's such a joy to at last be at Home with you, dearling, he heard in the depths of his being, and knew that Another's voice had joined hers.  He spun in the glory of it all.  Indeed, he was Home.  Until their other brother and his beloved could join them, who could ask for more?



Re: For Obsidianj - The King's Colors

Now, Dwim, I want to see the rest of the story--the meeting between Aragorn and Boromir, hear how it was Faramir died, and see how he fully responds to the claim Aragorn makes on the throne--and how Denethor also reacts.  That could be VERY entertaining!



Re: For Obsidianj - The King's Colors

You're welcome, Obsidanj!

I'm glad you enjoyed this little jaunt through 'might have been' - everyone likes to imagine Faramir on the quest, but for me, the interesting meeting is the Boromir-Aragorn dynamic when those two finally meet up, without the Ring playing into their interaction. 

Enjoy your day tomorrow!





Re: For Obsidianj - The King's Colors

Hi Larner,

I want to see the rest of the story

Ah, yes, well, that would indeed be an interesting tale... just not one I have on my hard drive! Just this one moment, really - the rest I leave to readers to play out. But if you wanted to take up the challenge of filling it in, Larner...




Re: For Elena Tiriel

LOL! Very clever, Jay - what a fitting sidebar to Elena's lovely drabble series! Nice how they pull a Kenobi on their hapless listeners, although I have to wonder whether Faramir might not put two and two together when he's less... distracted...




Re: March 2008 Birthdays

What a wonderful interpretation of Tolkien's early plans and ideas for his characters!   I knew that Strider was originally Trotter, a hobbit - but not that Frodo would have been his twin.

(Though I much prefer the brothers Tolkien *did* give Strider!!)

Jay  :>)



Re: For Elena Tiriel

Thanks, Dwim!

I think Faramir probably will tell Eowyn in the end - but will she tell Eomer?  I can see her hugging the knowledge to herself the next time they argue over the Grey Riders!




Re: For Obsidianj - The King's Colors

Me write the rest of this story?  Do you know what you're asking?  I keep having bunnies and nuzguls interrupting "The Tenant from Staddle" and "Stirring Rings as it is, and have two more longer stories I'm working on at odd moments that I haven't started posting yet, plus beta work I'm doing....  Don't set any more nuzguls on me--I'm already being torn into too many pieces as it is!  Heh!



Re: March 2008 Birthdays

The idea that Frodo and Sam might originally have been intended to be Aragorn's true brothers is strictly my own.  In my story line Gilraen has visions of the three sons she will bear her husband--his heir, his heir's twin brother, and the lighter-haired younger brother who will be more of a child of the sun while Aragorn and his twin would be more children of the stars.  However, Sauron, realizing the time is coming for the birth of the heir to Isildur likely to see his end, is sending waves of illnesses into Eriador, illnesses that he's learned cause miscarriages among mortal women, in hopes of forestalling the birth of this child; Aragorn was lucky to be a fraternal twin as Gilraen miscarried the son she'd planned to name Gilorhael; and two years later she loses the child she'd planned to name Anorhael as a result a great epidemic that almost kills Aragorn as well.  In this idea Aragorn went briefly into a coma and was thought dead by one of Arathorn's kinswomen; it is at this point that they hatch the plot to have Aragorn taken to Rivendell in secret, with only seven witnesses knowing that Aragorn actually survived the plague.  I wrote this idea into several of my stories beginning with the latter chapters of "The Ties of Family," detailing it further (and more succinctly) in "Fostering."  And I have one AU I've S L O W L Y worked on in which these other sons do manage to be born to Gilraen and Arathorn as well.  I MAY post it one day.

We all seem to put twists on Tolkien's own plotlines; and it was great fun to get Trotter and Aragorn into a confrontation in "Too Many Rangers."

And I, too, enjoy Aragorn's beloved big brothers.



Re: March 2008 Birthdays - Happy Late B-Day, Elena Tiriel!

Hi everyone!

My birthday is March 14, and I'd love a drabble about any character, event, place, or object from Tolkien's world that especially fascinates you... the (Middle-earth) sky's the limit!

But beware! Three years ago I started a drabble series about a couple of vaguely interesting Peredhel brothers, but since then the series has grown to 90 drabbles (many not posted yet) and I have fallen in love with the characters.... who knew?

- Barbara

Gandalf is probably my very favorite character in LOTR; but I find it very hard to write him.  He fascinates me.  Anyway, I wondered how he felt on the night of March 25, 3019.



Reflections In The Smoke


The One Ring was destroyed.   He had watched the one he had been sent to Middle-earth to cast down rise a last time in the moment of defeat, and had spared Sauron, who he had once called by other names, and even brother, a last moment of sorrow mingled with contempt.   Two weary hobbits had seemingly ended Sauron's existence with the flick of a wrist, the spinning of a small circlet of unholy metal into the fire from which it came.   

Sauron, Artano, Aulendil, Annatar, all the names his brother had hoarded in his long life, had amounted to so much dust, reflected the wizard who had gathered not a few names himself.   Sauron the Fool!   Even a cat does not leave the pantry when the mice are at large.  At the end of so many Ages, Sauron had grown only in arrogance, leaving Orodruin unguarded, to his ruin. 

Now, long hours after their Enemy's fall and the saving of Frodo and Sam, Sauron's onetime brother sat by the fire, blowing rings of smoke out of his pipe.  Around him, the victorious armies of the West drank, told tales, stood on watch, and dozed.  He had delivered the Ring-bearers into Aragorn's healing hands, and watched as Pippin, too, was tended by the returned King.  There was no more that he could do for them. 

For the first time in two thousand mortal years, the wizard sat purposeless, his old shoulders lightened of their heavy burden.  It felt strange to have no course left but the path to the West.  Narya lay quietly on his finger; its fires cooled.  His own power slept, like Ulmo's waves at low tide.   

Come home, Olórin; the wind seemed to sigh.  He would revel, make farewells, and obey; for Gandalf was needed here no more.



Re: March 2008 Birthdays - Happy Late B-Day, Elena Tiriel!

Ah, this is wonderful!  The job done at last!  Although it was done with a bit more than a casual flick of the wrist, of course.  He can truly relax at last.  (Although it ought to be ULMO's waves calling to him rather than Aule's, of course.)

And Gandalf will obey, and return to what he was--and keep company while he can with Bilbo, Frodo, and Sam, I think.



Re: March 2008 Birthdays - Happy Late B-Day, Elena Tiriel!

Wow, thanx for the save, Larner.  I don't know where my head was at - Aule has no waves!

Gandalf wasn't disrespecting the greatness of the Ringbearers' deeds, but comparing their physical act to the power of Sauron - all Sauron's schemes, empire, towers, armies, evil, ended by, at the end, a flick of the wrist to send the Ring down into the fires- at least, as far as Gandalf knew; he didn't yet know about the struggle with Gollum on the lip of the abyss. 

Gandalf has a lot of farewells to make, but his great Task is ended.




Re: March 2008 Birthdays - Happy Late B-Day, Elena Tiriel!

Oh, I never thought Gandalf would ever see the destruction of the Ring as less the labor than it actually was, much less discount the cost of it to Frodo, Sam, and Smeagol; that was but a comment in passing.  You are right--so much in the symbols of power brought to naught by the secret doings of three relatively innocent, unarmed beings never intended to be mighty in arms....

And Aule has no waves--Aule needs no waves!  Heh!  Considering some of the major bloopers I've done....  /me shakes her head in wonder at how much entanglement her fingers have managed to get into at times!



Re: March 2008 Birthdays - Happy Late B-Day, Elena Tiriel!

Reflections in the Smoke

Oh, Raksha, I almost missed this! LOL! Serves me right for burying my nose in the Research Library and hardly coming up for air.....

What a lovely vignette! I loved the imagery, like the spinning of a small circlet of unholy metal; that is such a visceral image!

I know how let down I feel after finishing a major project, but I cannot imagine how it must feel to have a 2000-year-long mission, so critical that the safety of Middle-earth relies upon it, come to fruition at last..... A mixture of relief, freedom, a lightened burden, but also of feeling at loose ends without a desperate goal constantly in front of you....

His own power slept, like Ulmo's waves at low tide. and Gandalf was needed here no more. What powerful writing!

Thank you so much, Raksha! This is a lovely birthday treat, and unexpected, too!

- Barbara



Re: March 2008 Birthdays - Happy Late B-Day, Elena Tiriel!

Oh, this is great. I can feel with Gandalf. This is the end of a major project which required all his attention with nothing left for other things. He must feel at loose ends with no immediate purpose at hand. 




Re: March 2008 Birthdays - Happy Late B-Day, Elena Tiriel!

Barbara, I'm so glad you liked the tri-drabble.  I don't write Gandalf very often; he's too vast and deep a fellow for me to get easily into his head, but the Muses were kind this time.  It must have felt very odd to him to be finally done; a purpose can be comforting as well as burdensome.  And Gandalf would have realized, before anyone else did, that he was no longer needed in Middle-earth as he once had been - that's something I might go into in the future...

There are so many wonderful birthday prompts; I just wish that I could do justice to them all.  Unfortunately, my LOTR fanfic Muses are fickle...




Re: March 2008 Birthdays - Happy Late B-Day, Elena Tiriel!

Oh, this is great. I can feel with Gandalf. This is the end of a major project which required all his attention with nothing left for other things. He must feel at loose ends with no immediate purpose at hand. 


Thanx for the compliments; I'm glad you enjoyed it.  Yes, Gandalf would have felt very much at loose ends; and that would have been quite a novel sensation after some 2000 years of struggle.





for Elena Tiriel

Hi Barbara,

"only" almost 1 1/2 months late (blame it on the muse ), I finally can give you my birthday card.




Regaining consciousness, he slowly recognised the place: the goal of his rash, reckless quest for what remained of Númenor.

Painfully, he rose to his knees, then his feet. Sun-burnt skin, cuts and abrasions throbbed and stung as his sore eyes roamed his whereabouts: once most hallowed, now a barren and pitiless isle.

Westwards he gazed then – in vain: no glimpse was vouchsafed him of what lay forever beyond.

So: no hope even at the end.

Then something brushed him, was blown on in a graceful arc: an eagle’s feather.

And far beyond, a white sail appeared on the eastern horizon.


- “And some there were of the seed of Eärendil that afterwards sought for it [the Isle of Meneltarma], because it was said among loremasters that the far-sighted men of old could see from the Meneltarma a glimmer of the Deathless Land.“ (Silm, Akallabêth)
- “Thus it was that great mariners among them would still search the empty seas, hoping to come upon the Isle of Meneltarma, and there to see a vision of things that were. But they found it not.“ (ibid.) The last sentence is ambiguous, in my opinion: it can refer either to the vision or to the island itself. In the latter case, the drabble is AU.



Re: Deliverance

Oh, Imhiriel, this is just so beautiful!

I keep re-reading and savoring it... what a lovely gift!

Your descriptions are so telling: I can almost feel the pain and misery of the ship-wrecked mariner, realizing that his folly of searching for the peak was going to cost him his life on this barren and pitiless place. And I can also feel his thirst: not just physical thirst, but spiritual thirst that caused him to seek the hallowed place of his ancestors, and the legendary vision of the Undying Lands.

But hope often comes from unexpected places... while he gazes West, a ship approaches from the East, from his homelands.  And perhaps it was Manwë himself sending him a feather from one of his Eagles as a sign of hope... and perhaps Ulmo gently draws the ship to his rescue?

Or maybe it's all just a coincidence! Who knows?

But I bet that mariner treasures that eagle feather for the rest of his life, and carries it close to his heart on all his voyages! 

Thank you, Imhiriel, for this beautiful, thought-inspiring gift!

- Barbara, who soooooo understands how frustrating fickle muses can be! 



Re: Deliverance

Hi Barbara,

I keep re-reading and savoring it... what a lovely gift!

I'm so happy at your reaction!

(snip speculations)

Or maybe it's all just a coincidence! Who knows?

I had to grin at your speculations, as I kept nodding while reading them and murmuring, "Yes! Yes, exactly! She totally got it!"

But I bet that mariner treasures that eagle feather for the rest of his life, and carries it close to his heart on all his voyages!

Oh, wow, now that's a new thought! Actually, I imagined the feather to just passing him by in flying ever eastward, but I love your idea so much better, so I will pretend that's what I had intended in the first place ...




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