Henneth Annûn Story Archive

One week and counting until September. All you September lads and lasses, if you'd like a birthday drabble, give us a date and a subject, and we'll see what we can do!

September 17—Arandil: I love all things elven. I'd love a drabble about Thranduil and Legolas in a NICE father/son relationship. Or if you prefer elves of the non-Mirkwood kind, I also like Elladan or Elrohir. And if you want to go first age, I absolutely adore Feanor (don't ask). If Elves aren't your thing, my favorite man is Eomer. Just no slash please.

September 22 - “Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday!”

FOTR, “A Long-expected Party”

Yes indeed, it’s Frodo and Bilbo’s birthday on 22 September. We at Challenges have a very special gift for Frodo and Bilbo. We’d like all intrepid drabblers out there to try their hand at this:

Write a drabble featuring 3 of the following: a bottle of wine, a birthday cake, the number 111, fireworks and pipeweed. You have to make 111 words exactly.

September 29—Liz: My birthday is 29 September and I would like drabbles set in Ithilien: any time from when it was first settled at the end of the second age through to the resettlement after the War of the Ring.

Or you could always just write a drabble about my favourite Captain of the Ithilien Rangers/Prince of Ithilien and his relationship with the place.

 

Yay! My birthday is September 17th. I'll be 21 again. (again....again....again....again.....again....again....) Anyway... I love all things elven. I'd love a drabble about Thranduil and Legolas in a NICE father/son relationship. Or if you prefer elves of the non-Mirkwood kind, I also like Elladan or Elrohir. And if you want to go first age, I absolutely adore Feanor (don't ask). If Elves aren't your thing, my favorite man is Eomer. Just no slash please. Thank you and very merry unbirthday to all of you!

 

Ithilien, the garden of Gondor now desolate kept still a dishevelled dryad loveliness. "Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit" Ch 4, Book IV, The Two Towers. My birthday is 29 September and I would like drabbles set in Ithilien: any time from when it was first settled at the end of the second age through to the resettlement after the War of the Ring. Or you could always just write a drabble about my favourite Captain of the Ithilien Rangers/Prince of Ithilien and his relationship with the place. Many thanks Cheers, Liz

 

Liz-- A little early, but I just wrote this as part of a larger story, and it seemed to fit your birthday drabble request. My first drabble ever! (Yay me, LOL.) The thinker is Faramir as he falls asleep in an abandoned farmhouse in Ithilien. ******* Old Farmhouse The faint scent of flowering trees drifted over the ruined walls. "Almond or apple," Faramir thought drowzily; trees of the lineage of the rose, with their sweet, five-petaled flowers. Long ago, Ithilien was laid out in fields and orchards and well-tended woods, a chessboard with squares of brown and bright green. Apricots, apples and pears were sent to the markets of northern Gondor and south to Belfalas. He tried to imagine all those fruit trees in flower, acre after acre of shining, white branches. "How beautiful it must have been," he thought as he drifted to sleep in the farmhouse. ********* I hope you have a Happy Birthday, Branwyn

 

Branwyn wrote: A little early, but I just wrote this as part of a larger story, and it seemed to fit your birthday drabble request. My first drabble ever! (Yay me, LOL.) The thinker is Faramir as he falls asleep in an abandoned farmhouse in Ithilien. Thank you , Branwyn! I didn't expect to receive any drabbles for weeks, so this was a lovely surprise. It's also a wonderful drabble - your language is beautiful and this is very much how I see Faramir (in my personal fanon, he's always wanted to resettle and rebuid Ithilien). Thanks for brightening my day! Cheers, Liz

 

September 29—Liz: My birthday is 29 September and I would like drabbles set in Ithilien: any time from when it was first settled at the end of the second age through to the resettlement after the War of the Ring. Or you could always just write a drabble about my favourite Captain of the Ithilien Rangers/Prince of Ithilien and his relationship with the place. Happy to oblige, Liz, and have a happy birthday too. Promises Dead and despoiled. Faramir made a deep ‘tchaa” of disgust and walked away from the downed tree that had shaded the hillside. The marauding orcs could not strew poison everywhere but they took delight in seeking out beautiful places to hack at the soil and sow their filth. Hungry despite the devastation, he pulled a peach from his pack. The heady scent promised sweet summers and full harvests as he slowly savored it. Licking the last of the juice from his fingers, he tucked the pit under a flap of uprooted turf and smoothed it back down before moving on. Gwynnyd

 

Happy to oblige, Liz, and have a happy birthday too. Promises *squee* Thank you Gwynnyd - this is wonderful. You know my obsessions all too well. I just love the notion of Faramir undoing the ravages of the orcs one lunchtime at a time! Promises of renewal indeed.... How could I not have a happy birthday with such wonderful presents? Cheers, Liz

 

FOTR, "A Long-expected Party" Write a drabble featuring 3 of the following: a bottle of wine, a birthday cake, the number 111, fireworks and pipeweed. You have to make 111 words exactly. How's that for a nuzgûl? Happy birthday - Frodo & Bilbo! Here's something right out of period for you both, but does include all the key words but one! A Long Awaited Party Sam glumly inspected the Party Field behind Bag End. Everything was ready: sun shining, warmer than expected; canvas taut, and banners flying; squibs and crackers from Dale; fireworks; birthday cake. One-hundred-forty-four invitations accepted, but more would come. There was food and drink in plenty to serve them all. “Speeches, ” he groaned. He heard a bottle of wine being poured behind him and a glass was thrust into his hand. “Cheer up, Sam, at least there will be no surprises.” “I wouldn’t count on it, Master Merry, and I’d rather a mug o’ beer.” “What?” Pippin breezed up, livery gleaming. “Toast the King’s 111th birthday in beer? I should think not!” Gwynnyd

 

An excellent twist on the theme. The ending lines were perfect and a reminder that Aragorn is long-lived. Good use of the hobbits talking about the party with the reminder of Bilbo's 111th birthday celebration. RiverOtter

 

Write a drabble featuring 3 of the following: a bottle of wine, a birthday cake, the number 111, fireworks and pipeweed. You have to make 111 words exactly. How could I resist! And I even managed to get all the words into this one. Happy Birthday Frodo and Bilbo! Cheers, Vistula ~~~~~ Not Just Any Celebration “Eleventy one bottles of wine on the wall, eleventy one bottles of wine…” Pippin crooned, lying on his back eyeing Gandalf’s wagon behind the tent. “Pip, me lad, me thinks yer drunk!” Merry stumbled, pitching forward, and narrowly missed the large birthday cake that someone had so thoughtlessly placed in his path. “Whoa! Where’d that come from?” “And you think I’m drunk?” Pippin asked scowling. Searching his pockets and coming up empty he huffed, “Oh bother! Now where’s that pipeweed off to?” “See, told you. You’re drunk as a Mirkwood elf.” “I am not.” Glowering at each other, suddenly common mischief flared in their eyes. In unison they turned, crying, “Fireworks!”

 

How could I resist! And I even managed to get all the words into this one. Bravo! I was wondering if anyone'd get them all! Nice work, Vistula! cheers, nrink

 

I managed to combine Arandil's request with Frodo & Bilbo's birthdays when I remembered that a certain pair of elven twins were 111 when their sister was born. Happy birthday, Arandil! Happy birthday Frodo and Bilbo! Arwen’s Birth Day “Will you pass me the wine, please El? Thank you.” Elladan passed the bottle of wine to his brother, who refilled both their glasses. Taking a sip, he lay back against the grass, gazing upwards at the night. Another burst of fireworks arched across the sky, fountains of gold and silver fire drifting silently downward. Beside him, Elrohir raised his glass. “To our beautiful new sister,” he said proudly. “I wonder if they did this when we were born?” Elladan sat up, touching his glass against his twin’s. “One hundred and eleven years ago,” he mused. He took a bite of the birth-day cake, baked in celebration. “To Arwen,” he repeated. Jay (I missed the pipeweed; Tobold hadn't grown it then!)

 

Attempt for Arandil - though I'm afraid it morphed into being mostly Thranduil Honour The knife's silver-shod hilt is old Dale-work, and after the custom of Men, it has two sockets to receive gems as trophies of victory. These there has been no opportunity to fill. But what of it, should the lords in Imladris observe it? Would they mistake this for the weapon of an untried youth? It has been well employed since the winter I girded it on him. We are Wood-elves, and our foes do not carry treasure. We are Grey-elves, and our house has never gone to war for jewels, nor will it ever. We learned that vanity long past. Happy birthday for ten days time! Gemma

 

Thanks Gemma and Jay! Those were both great! And it's not even my birthday yet! -Arandil

 

Just couldn't fit in the cake... Branwyn ******* A Vintage Year "A very good year, young Frodo, for babies and for wine," Bilbo said with a smile, as he reverently brushed the soft, grey dust from the bottle. The label had browned to the color of tobacco, the writing faded to a tracery of spiderwebs. "I remember that harvest. While they picked the grapes, the sky grew dark, and they feared a storm was coming. So the neighbors stayed to help the farmers bring them in." Late into the night, the weary hobbits had cut the heavy clusters, gently setting them in baskets; beside the vines, torches sputtered and flared in the rising wind, sending a trail of fireworks into the sky.

 

Arandil: I love all things elven. I'd love a drabble about Thranduil and Legolas in a NICE father/son relationship. Happy early Birthday Arandil!! A little Legolas and Thranduil just for you. Cheers! Vistula ~~~~ Even Elf Boys Will Be Boys Laughter trickled below the ledge. Legolas carefully gripped a filled water bladder in his small hands. A determined smile lit his bright face. On tiptoes with arms raised, he awaited his quarry, tongue pressed between his lips. A moment away from mischief a strong hand circled his wrist. Glancing up he looked into stern eyes – a stern face. Ada. Silence flowed between them. The child swallowed with lower lip trembling. Gently the Mirkwood King took the ersatz weapon from his son. Winking conspiratorially he pitched it toward its mark. Ducking below the railing Thranduil chuckled. “Hand me another one ion-nin.”

 

Ohh....oh....*jumps up and down and claps excitedly* Yay! I LOVED it!!! It is such a great cute picture of the two of them. Winking conspiratorially he pitched it toward its mark. Ducking below the railing Thranduil chuckled. Did I say I loved it yet??? Oh you just made me so happy! Thank you thank you! Hugs! Arandil

 

Oh very, very nice. Thranduil throwing water bombs? I don't believe it! I love this glimpse of father and son both being irresponsible. Jay

 

A Long-Expected Party: let's see now 111 words - check The number 111 - check Fireworks - check Bottle of wine - Will an (implied) wineskin do? And I don't see where it actually has to involve Bilbo and Frodo, so, Happy Birthday Liz! Natural History “Look, just there.” Grandfather whispered. Barahir shifted slightly, rustling a dry leaf underfoot. A shimmer of emerald and gold, and the bird was gone. Number 111. Bee-eater. Three days tramping the woods of Ithilien with his grandfather – what a treat! Grandfather knew the names of all the birds, and the flowers, and even the stars. He had given Barahir a small leather-bound journal, just like his own, to keep his notes and sketches and a list of all the birds he saw. As the evening grew chill, Grandfather warmed some spiced wine, treating Barahir to a well-watered mugful. Nestled warmly together, they watched shooting stars streaming like fireworks across the sky. Ann

 

Hi Ann Thank you! That was wonderful. I don't know what I like most about it: Barahir wanting to be just like his grandfather, that Ithilien has become a place where grandfathers and grandsons can go on camping expeditions together, or Faramir's evident delight in the whole escapade (you just know he's left a whole pile of boring papers behind on his desk and is doing what he likes doing best). A lovely surprise! Thanks again. Cheers, Liz

 

Happy birthday, Arandil! It's about five hours or so to the 17th where I live, so this isn't too early. I hope your birthday is lovely, but forgive me if I'm a bad drabbler.

---

Many Stars

"Perhaps somewhere else, people have different legends for each star," said Elrohir pensively. “Just like we do.” Elladan laughed lightly. "Even the Orcs?" “Why not?” asked Elrohir. “See that? That’s Urfak the Inebriated, that is. Nar!” Elladan snickered, a very un-lordly sound that would not have pleased his father. “How about that one?” “That, dear brother, is Lugdush the…Very Confused.” “Very confused?” laughed Elladan. “What – “ “It’s very simple, dear brother. You see, when he was but a young Orc…” And Elladan gazed at the stars, and for a swift, irrational moment, wondered what they were made of. Orcish souls? THE END

---

Happy birthday, again.

 

Thank you!!! This was great! It's about five hours or so to the 17th where I live I still have about 14 hours, so not too bad... Picturing the twins stargazing and making up names for orcs has made my morning so much better. “See that? That’s Urfak the Inebriated, that is. Nar!” “That, dear brother, is Lugdush the…Very Confused.” Too too funny! Thanks a bunch! -Arandil

 

The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship Such curious creatures. Newcomers to Bree since last my wanderings led here. Most like Men in appearance, yet shorter than Dwarves, beardless and Elven-eared. This evening I was relaxing at the Prancing Pony, enjoying a bottle of wine, when a group of them took the table beside mine. They began to engage in the oddest practice – burning dried leaves and inhaling the smoke! Despite myself, the fire in my nature was fascinated, and I asked if I might partake. They were suspicious at first, but when my enjoyment of the experience became obvious, they welcomed me as one of their own. Perhaps tomorrow I shall see how they like my fireworks. Elana

 

Not the best you'll ever see, but please forgive me. 'Tis only my first attempt at a drabble. ******* The Darkening It cannot be! Surely they lie, these foolish messengers; surely Melkor's foul darkness has addled their wits. Surely such scum as that lying thief could never harm an Elda so noble, as wise and strong as the great King Finwë! But their eyes, the messengers' eyes; something in their eyes fills my heart with horror . . . . . . No, no, Ilúvatar, no! Their eyes say they speak the truth. Why? Why did the Valar let the enemy Melkor loose? Why did they not stop him as he fled? The Valar, curse them! Curse their summons from my father's side! Melkor and his fellow Valar have stolen my most valued treasure. Even should my Silmarils be regained, and their light restored to me, my world shall lie forever in darkness. For Finwë, my beloved father, is dead. ******** "Then Fëanor ran from the Ring of Doom, and fled into the night; for his father was dearer to him than the Light of Valinor or the peerless works of his hands; and who among sons, of Elves or of Men, have held their fathers of greater worth?" - Of the Flight of the Noldor, The Silmarillion Regards, Beruthiel

 

Oh, Thank you! I didn't even see this up here til now! Great portrayal of Feanor. Impassioned, angry and a little on the overdramatic side - perfect! I loved it! Go forth and write more drabbles. This one was great! -Arandil

 

September 29—Liz: My birthday is 29 September and I would like drabbles set in Ithilien: any time from when it was first settled at the end of the second age through to the resettlement after the War of the Ring. Since the Legolas!muse has been visiting lately, this is post-war Ithilien...but Faramir did make an appearance. Happy early birthday Liz! Cheryl ******* Garden With care the elf brushes earth around roots, his soft words encouraging the delicate flower to grow. Sitting back, he runs a light touch over its petals, remembering his recent words to Ithilien’s Prince. Green things will grow here again, Faramir, it shall be my gift to you and your Lady. These gardens will drive the memory of the Shadow away. He reaches into his bag, gently pulling out another tender shoot. “Mae gala,” he whispers, planting the flower. He glances up, seeing the Prince approach. The man smiles, his eyes scanning the burgeoning landscape around him. “Hannon le, Legolas.” ******* mae gala Literally "well grow" My hopefully correct Sindarin interpretation for "grow well"

 

 

Since the Legolas!muse has been visiting lately, this is post-war Ithilien...but Faramir did make an appearance. Happy early birthday Liz! Aha, now I understand all the slightly odd questions you were asking me! Cheryl, this is lovely. It has all my favourite themes in Tolkien: renewal, banishing shadows, joint enterprises and friendships between different races, gardening as a metaphor - and Faramir! All packed into 100 words - I'm impressed! And happy. Thank you! What more could I ask for? (Well, except maybe that you could send the Elf round to do some work on my garden? ) Cheers, Liz

 

Aha, now I understand all the slightly odd questions you were asking me! LOL! Well, I was hoping I quit asking before you got suspicious Besides, you know me...I'll pop odd questions out of the blue whenever the fancy strikes. Cheryl, this is lovely. It has all my favourite themes in Tolkien: renewal, banishing shadows, joint enterprises and friendships between different races, gardening as a metaphor - and Faramir! All packed into 100 words - I'm impressed! And happy. *blush* thanks I'm really glad you like it. Thank you! What more could I ask for? (Well, except maybe that you could send the Elf round to do some work on my garden? ) I may just have to do that...he's been here and whispering to my houseplants so long that they all need to be re-potted! Imagine what he could do with a whole garden! Cheryl

 

In honor of Bilbo and Frodo, on September 22. *** Gone but Not Forgotten The old Hobbit pushed aside the plate scattered with birthday-cake crumbs and stirred his tea. He lifted the acorn-handled spoon from the cup, stared at it, and said, "Do you know, I had four dozen of these before I went on my adventure." Frodo knew what Bilbo would say, but nevertheless asked obediently, "What happened to them?" Bilbo set down the spoon and leaned back. "The Sackville-Bagginses, I think. Otho and Lobelia were so annoyed that I returned to Bag End." He grinned. "At least, my boy, it was only the teaspoons that went missing; losing one hundred and eleven bottles of Old Winyards would have been far harder to bear."

 

Faramir in Ithilien. - - - Once this was the garden and glory of Gondor. Now the stones of the farmhouse are buried in long grass combed by wind on the hillside. If there are bones here, they lie quietly under years of leaf-mould. The chill wind pushes the unbearably sweet smell of rotting fruit toward him. Fallen apples, riddled by squirrel and bird, lie rolled under the knotted shadows of ancient trees. In the valley below the silver-scaled stream flashes on its way to the Great River. Faramir twists one nearly unblemished apple from the bough and bites into it, juice dripping from his fingers.

 

Forodwaith, thank you! You descriptions are beautiful, and I was moved by the way you have Faramir find the good amongst the bad, the useful amongst the tainted. and the sweet amongst the bitter. Lovely - thanks again Cheers, Liz

 

Nice drabbles, guys! Especially the Ithilien drabbles. They're all beautiful. Is there perhaps room for one more? A double drabble, even? Welcoming the Lady ***** Ducking through the waterfall, Éowyn let Faramir lead her the last few steps of the long path. Deft fingers loosened the knot in the blindfold. Secrecy was no longer strictly necessary, but she guessed Faramir had wanted to surprise her. Slowly she spun round, taking in the cavern: once full, now populated with barrels of salted meat, wine, and other provisions, but not by men. They were alone. As Éowyn turned to face the watery veil she sucked in her breath, the air whistling through her teeth. A song like that from a thousand harps rose from where the waterfall met the pool far below, and the setting sun glistened through the curtain, more brilliant than Meduseld's tapestries. She felt Faramir's fingers entwine between her own. Reluctantly she turned from the waterfall and looked upon his face. Was that a smile on his solemn lips? 'Twould seem so! He took a step forward, and she did not move back. He lifted his free hand and caressed her chin for a moment before slowly raising her lips to meet his own. Aye, what a kiss! How could she have ever loved another, she wondered? But those days were gone. Seconds that lasted an age passed, and yet the two lingered. Finally he pulled back. "Ithilien welcomes her lady," he said, "as do I."

 

Is there perhaps room for one more? A double drabble, even? Welcoming the Lady There most definitely is room for something as nice as that! I very much liked seeing your take on Éowyn's perspective of being in Ithilien - I get the impression she's not regretting exchanging Rohan for Ithilien. Your description of Henneth Annun was lovely. Nice description of the kiss, too. Thanks again. Cheers, Liz

 

There most definitely is room for something as nice as that! Faramir, Eowyn, kiss in Ithilien? Gee, I would have never guessed you'd like something like that, Liz... I very much liked seeing your take on Éowyn's perspective of being in Ithilien - I get the impression she's not regretting exchanging Rohan for Ithilien. Not at the moment, no. She might miss it eventually, but I think at first Ithilien was an adventure. And she had Faramir... that had to improve the view. ;) Your description of Henneth Annun was lovely. Thanks. I tried to keep the purple prose from getting too ridiculous. Nice description of the kiss, too. You know, I can easily see this drabble growing into a longer piece. It has a lot of nice character moments. Are you interested, Liz, or shall I add this to my nuzgul list? (It could have some very nice smut. Yes, you want me to break into that, but you're already so good at it... ) Marta

 

Well, this was supposed to be a drabble about a conversation between Legolas and Faramir about Ithilien. Then my muses got a hold of it and, well, I have no control over them. It is set in Ithilien. Faramir is in it. So I'm close... --------------------------------------------------- Cause for Celebration “Come, Faramir, let us celebrate!” Faramir’s reverie was broken by the Elf who suddenly appeared beside him. He looked once more at the forest, so transformed from merely a year ago. “Yes, Legolas, for we have much reason to. A year’s hard work and the Garden of Gondor nearly restored to its former glory.” The Elf’s eyes twinkled and he smiled secretively as Eowyn approaced. “Faramir! There is something I must tell you.” Faramir did not notice the Elf’s departure, concerned as he was over Eowyn’s anxious manner. Her news quickly dispelled his worry. He would soon be a father! Happy Birthday Liz!

 

Oh, and I just want to say 2 things about that last drabble - 1) Eowyn did not tell Legolas first. Legolas knew, because, well, he's an elf. The first person Eowyn told was Faramir. 2) I couldn't find much about Eowyn and Faramir's children, except about their grandson and perhaps a son named Elboron. There were no birth dates given, so I took some liberty with that... Ta. Arandil

 

Cause for Celebration Cause indeed! Thanks Arandil, that was wonderful. A great moment - it's one I've drabbled myself before now, but I really liked your take on it. I think there's plenty of Faramir's relationship to Ithilien in there to satisfy the drabble requirements. I do that he would think its restoration cause enough for a celebration - although I think finding out he was going to be a father would be even better. 1) Eowyn did not tell Legolas first. Legolas knew, because, well, he's an elf. The first person Eowyn told was Faramir. Yes, I realised that before I read your notes. It makes a lot of sense. 2) I couldn't find much about Eowyn and Faramir's children, except about their grandson and perhaps a son named Elboron. There were no birth dates given, so I took some liberty with that... Elboron is named in the family tree in HoMe 12, but there's no birthdate. So no liberties taken! Once again, thank you. A very nice surprise for me as well as Faramir! Cheers, Liz

 

Faramir, Eowyn, kiss in Ithilien? Gee, I would have never guessed you'd like something like that, Liz... Well, if you keep hassling me to write smut, I may not like it any more.... You know, I can easily see this drabble growing into a longer piece. It has a lot of nice character moments. Are you interested, Liz, or shall I add this to my nuzgul list? (It could have some very nice smut. Yes, you want me to break into that, but you're already so good at it... ) While it was a lovely drabble that caught the essence of the moment extremely eloquently, I've already seen it done as a longer piece too many times to have any desire to write it myself. Besides, where's the intense, serious psychodrama/relationship development metatext I need to put in to justify writing the smut to myself....? So I will pet this fangy little friend on the head and hand him right back to you Cheers, Liz

 

1) Eowyn did not tell Legolas first. Legolas knew, because, well, he's an elf. The first person Eowyn told was Faramir. Yes, I realised that before I read your notes. It makes a lot of sense. After I posted I re-read and thought, "Hmm...hope nobody thinks that Eowyn would tell Legolas first..." Hence the post. I'm glad you liked it! I'm always apprehensive when my muses take something in a different direction than I originally intended.

 

Ack! Sorry it's late. Hope better late than never... Cel ****** The Air of Ithilien It is odd, I have always thought, that simply crossing a river should make so much difference. Yet whenever Éowyn and I return from visiting Minas Tirith, the first breeze from the eastern shoreline carries the scent of home with it. Ithilien – there is a fragrance there, hard to capture in words: a subtle blend of grass and flowers, wood and water, and just a hint of tang from the bitter air of Mordor over the mountains. I inhale it like a drowning man come ashore. Éowyn laughs at me, but admits that it breathes home to her as well.

 

Ack! Sorry it's late. Hope better late than never... Most definitely better. Oh my, that is so evocative - I know exactly that feeling of getting off a train after I've been up in London, breathing in and thinking "home". Perfect. Thank you! Cheers, Liz

 

The hardest part was coming up with enough synonyms for "air," I'll have you know! You're most welcome. Cel

 

The Air of Ithilien That was wonderful. I have the same feeling when I go to visit my parent's place and breathe in the scents of trees, farm fields and water that are not present in the small city in which I live. It is a refreshing feeling that speaks more of home to me than the dwelling in which they are housed. Splendid job! Vistula

 

The Air of Ithilien The whole thing was beautiful, but I especially liked this piece: I inhale it like a drowning man come ashore. Wonderful. Marvelous.

 

I inhale it like a drowning man come ashore. Yes, that was a line I particularly liked as well. I'd also like to ask everyone who wrote me a birthday drabble if they would mind letting me republish them on my LiveJournal, or allow me to link to them if you can make them available on a public site. Thanks, Liz

 

I'd also like to ask everyone who wrote me a birthday drabble if they would mind letting me republish them on my LiveJournal Go right ahead...

 

Happy belated birthday, Liz! And many happy returns Promise He had been a lad of fifteen when he first stepped on Ithilien’s soil as a soldier. His crisp shirt crackled as loud as the leaves under his feet, but it blended so well with the colors of the forest; the wind hummed softly, speaking to him. Its beauty was of a peaceful, simple sort, quiet yet compelling. What wouldn’t he give to keep it so, to preserve even that small hope? Young though he was, he vowed to protect it with all his might. Someday, Ithilien would bloom again. Today, 22 years later, his promise is at last fulfilled.

 

Thank you Starlight! That was beautiful. Its beauty was of a peaceful, simple sort, quiet yet compelling. Exactly! I love the way you've captured the magic of the place, how it spoke to Faramir immediately, and how he felt connected with it straight away. Thanks again Cheers, Liz (PS, can I post/link to this on my LJ?)

 

I'd also like to ask everyone who wrote me a birthday drabble if they would mind letting me republish them on my LiveJournal Go right ahead... Thanks, Arandil!

 

Republish? In your Live Journal? My drabble? Oh heavens yes! Ann

 

Republish? In your Live Journal? My drabble? Oh heavens yes! Ann Thanks! Is there any way I can encourage your drabble muse some more? It produces such lovely results! Cheers, Liz

 

Hi Liz, Feel free to link to the drabble I wrote for you. It's up on Stories of Arda (in a slightly edited version): http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterview.asp?sid=1887&cid=10848 p.s. What's your LJ username? I'm forodwaith on LJ as well.

 

Hi Liz, Sorry this is late! Hope you like it! - Barbara [Edit: ] Revised slightly from the original version. Ambush in Ithilien We stand alert, tense, hidden in shadows above the deep-cloven road-cutting, awaiting my bird-call. On this very road in ancient days, the last living heir of the newly-slain King fell to in-swarming Wainriders, stirred up by Sauron. Kingless, Gondor staggered, but did not fall. Now 'tis accursed Southrons, red-clad and red-bannered, who march toward the Black Gate, seeking to swell the ranks of those sworn to Sauron. Silently, we watch the sanguine horde crowd heedlessly into the narrow. Unwary. Never to depart alive. Our longbows creak under the strain. Once again will crimson slaughter befoul our beloved Ithilien. I whistle. *** In 1944 III, during the disastrous Battle against the Wainriders at the Morannon, King Ondoher of Gondor and both his sons Artamir and Faramir (who had been ordered to stay as regent in Minas Tirith, but sneaked away to join the battle in disguise) were slain. His sister-son (and last blood heir) Minohtar led the rearguard defense of the retreating army on the North Road of Ithilien; he was also slain. The spot where Faramir ambushed the Haradrim in 3019 was farther south along the same road.

 

I like it very much indeed, Barbara - thank you! I really enjoy the alliteration you've used, and the sense of tension you create and then release in the final short line. Also, I think you have captured extremely well Faramir's relationship with Ithilien in the line Once again will crimson slaughter befoul our beloved Ithilien - necessary but not enjoyable. And trust you to write something based on a nicely obscure bit of canon. It's actually something I've been researching myself as I'm working on a Faramir son of Denthor/Faramir son of Ondoher story for the Namesakes challenge. Thanks again! Cheers, Liz (PS: Errr... I hate to quibble with you, oh canon mistress, especially when you have written something so very lovely, and I like the line last living heir of the line of Anárion very much, but surely that was Eärnur? Who was, to quote Appendix A, the son of Eärnur who was the son of Siriondil, son of Calimmacil, son of Arciryas brother of Narmacil II. Or am I misinterpreting things here? Sorry, shutting up now. I do like it, really I do, I just think my canon-obsessiveness is almost as bad as yours. )

 

Hi Forodwaith, thanks for letting me link to it at SoA. My LJ username is tanaquilotr

 

Hi Liz! Glad you liked it! I really enjoy the alliteration you've used You know, I *really* struggled with using Sauron's name directly (twice!), but (in the context of a drabble) "sworn to Sauron" is just so much punchier than "sworn to the Nameless One" or "sworn to the Enemy". Faramir didn't seem to use Sauron's name directly -- so, I fudged canon a bit... (shhh - don't tell anyone...) the sense of tension you create and then release in the final short line. Thank you! *beams* necessary but not enjoyable Ah, yes. Especially since I was thinking that they didn't have time to, um, clean up the mess before leaving... they probably just left the bodies there on the road as a warning to the next set of Haradrim to go to the Morannon... Warfare is so... unpleasant at times... And trust you to write something based on a nicely obscure bit of canon. Yup, that's me! The only muse I've been able to rouse lately is my Research Muse (who has been frighteningly intense)... so your drabble was a way to nudge a bit of creativity out of all that fictional factual data... It's actually something I've been researching myself as I'm working on a Faramir son of Denthor/Faramir son of Ondoher story for the Namesakes challenge. Can't wait to see the result! I compiled all the information I could find about the Wars with the Wainriders into the Resource Library, including Ondoher's Heirs Slain in the Battle against the Wainriders at the Morannon; some people think that I must like Gondorians, but the reality is that I adore Rohirrim, and those wars impacted their ancestors horribly... but I digress... I hate to quibble with you, oh canon mistress LOL! Quibble away! I like the line last living heir of the line of Anárion very much, but surely that was Eärnur? So, maybe I should have consulted my own Genealogies? *Snicker* Do you have any idea how many times I reworded that sentence? I was hoping no one would notice the artistic liberty I'd taken, but I should have considered the audience... Hmmm, maybe I can say something like "last living heir of the newly-slain King" or something... If I can think of a way to fit it into the drabble, I'll update it and let you know... [Edit:] Yes, I fixed it and updated the original post. Liz, I really enjoyed writing this for you, and I especially enjoyed such appreciative and helpful feedback... Thank you! - Barbara [Edit:] P.S. In my genealogical defense , if Eärnil were such an obvious choice of heir after Ondoher, I don't think it would have taken Gondor a year to select him... and I think his status as the victorious general in the Battle against the Haradrim at Poros and the Battle of the Camp might have been as important as his bloodline... that is, though his bloodline was necessary, it might not have been seen as sufficient without the victories... but that's purely speculation on my part. (Forgive the SSP's!)

 

Okay! I fixed the canon quibble! LOL! Aside from the use of Sauron's name, my drabble is now canonically perfect! *vbg* - Barbara I must be getting better at drabbles... instead of writing 2-300 words, and having to cut them down, I kept having to find extra words to insert into this one... It's a strange feeling... [Edit:] P.S. You're welcome to publish it, now that it's revised.

 

Hi Barbara Nice rewrite! Fixes the issue admirably. And thanks for permission to post it on my LJ. Do you have any idea how many times I reworded that sentence? I was hoping no one would notice the artistic liberty I'd taken, but I should have considered the audience... You were writing it for a Gondor geek after all. And a very appreciative one: I *squeed* when i realised you'd chosen a couple of moments I'm currently obsessing over myself! some people think that I must like Gondorians, but the reality is that I adore Rohirrim, and those wars impacted their ancestors horribly... Yes, Faramir son of Ondoher was with Rohirrim ancestors retreeating into the dead marshes when he was killed, wasn't he? I really enjoyed writing this for you, and I especially enjoyed such appreciative and helpful feedback... Glad to hear it! I was very trepidatious at criticising such a lovely birthday present, but if it added to your enjoyment of giving it, I'm glad to be of service! Cheers, Liz

 

Hey Liz, Happy belated birthday! Think I've managed to get a tiny bit of Ithilien and Faramir after all. Not very cheerful or birthday-ish, but I'm learning to curb my angst-maven tendencies. cheers, nrink * * * Land of the Moon For a long while, he watched the leaves fall; red and gold they were, glistening in the rain. He caught them in his cupped hands, then let them drift away on the dark swirls of the Forbidden Pool. Here, he had watched their windy dance; here he had listened to the roaring of the waters, first as a Captain of Rangers, now as Steward and Prince. Sometimes, he listened still for the comings and goings of men, the murmur of voices, footfalls lighter than a leaf. But only the water spoke to him, for the men had gone long ago.

 

Hi Nrink Thank you Think I've managed to get a tiny bit of Ithilien and Faramir after all. Not very cheerful Rather autumnal in tone, yes (and therefore appropriate for an autumn birthday), but very lovely. You've most definitely captured Ithilien and Faramir. I think my favourite line is footfalls lighter than a leaf - it sent shivers down my spine. Thanks again. Cheers, Liz (PS - the usual question: can I post this on my livejournal?)

 

Hey Liz, (PS - the usual question: can I post this on my livejournal?) Glad you like it! Of course you can, and I'm honoured that you'd like to. cheers, nrink

 

My birthday is 29 September and I would like drabbles set in Ithilien: any time from when it was first settled at the end of the second age through to the resettlement after the War of the Ring. Hi Liz, And now for something completely different! Hope you had a wonderful birthday. I apologize for the lateness, but my Faramir drabble muse needed to be battered into submission...and then would only cooperate if I threw in a hobbit for good measure. Hope you enjoy anyway! Cheers! Vistula ~~~~~~ Reunion “‘Tis a fine garden, Prince Faramir, no mistaking that.” “I hope, Master Samwise, that you find this visit to Ithilien more pleasant than your first.” The hobbit gazed thoughtfully at his host, sharing a bittersweet memory. “Aye, ‘tis that. Would that I could repay your hospitality in kind. My garden ‘taint so big but I do say it’s fair to look at.” “If it is half as fine as these flowers you bring to gladden my house,” Faramir gestured to where Rose and Elanor laughed with Eowyn nearby, “then I imagine it is beautiful. Shall we join them?” “Aye.”

 

Gosh, this has to be one of the longest-lasting and best birthdays I've ever had - a new present every day. Vistula, that was a beautiful drabble. I don't mind a hobbit thrown in at all when you capture Sam's voice so wonderfully. I never thought before about how Sam's visit to Gondor would undoubtedly involve a little side trip into Ithilien, but of course it would. Thanks again! Cheers, Liz (PS: the usual question - may I publish/link to it on my livejournal?)

 

Thank you Liz! I love Sam as a character and like to slip him into what I write as often as I can. Trying to get his voice right is very important to me. I never thought before about how Sam's visit to Gondor would undoubtedly involve a little side trip into Ithilien, but of course it would. I'm sure he and his family would be invited to visit Faramir's restored home during the year they spend in MT. What a better time to show the progress that had been made to the lands over the years since the war. It would be a good time for remembering and bringing closure to that particular portion of both their lives. (PS: the usual question - may I publish/link to it on my livejournal?) I would be honored. Thank you! Cheers, Vistula

 

This was where the Captain took me, Liz. Sorry it's late, and I hope it ws happy. Ithilien Anduin, mother of waters, carries within her all of our world. Snow melt from the roof of the world has gathered to her heart the heart of all the lands she washes as she journeys South. She flows broad and bright by the time she reaches the Garden of Gondor. Ithilien greets her at the border of Anorien with moonflowers, craving her blessing. Next the banks bloom in variegated thyme, symbol of courage and persistence; then lemon balm and peppermint spread the scent of healing as they run rioting over the paths. Meadowsweet twines the fragrance of happiness where clover and chamomile promise the redemption of love. Sweet grass , whose scent clears the mind, joins wild dianthus to open the heart. For awhile Anduin goes more slowly, hiding in the reeds, before surging forward again as she catches the scent of the sea and runs onward to meet the sun. But before she leaves the lands of the moon, fennel and yarrow will add to her song – protection, sweet mother, for all the lands within reach of your cold, swift flowing tears. I kneel and drink deeply of the waters of the moon. Then, rising to go, I drop the green sprig I have been holding in my right hand into the dancing gleam. Rosemary – that’s for remembrance.

 

This was where the Captain took me, Liz. Sorry it's late, and I hope it ws happy. It was, thank you - and it feels like a very extended birthday with all these lovely drabbles dribbling in well into October. This is beautiful. I love the way you name the qualities of all the different flowers and herbs, and show how connected Ithilien is to the rest of M-e. It's hard to pick out one single favourite line but I think I like this one best: For awhile Anduin goes more slowly, hiding in the reeds, before surging forward again as she catches the scent of the sea and runs onward to meet the sun. Do you have this posted on your LJ so I can link to it? Thank you again. Definitely better late than never :-D Cheers, Liz

 

A Long, Unexpected Drabble "Self-indulgent twaddle," mutters the struggling amateur to herself, though she only uses words like "twaddle" when earnestly endeavoring to write top-notch Tolkien fan fiction. "I love birthday cake!" she muses, "Wonder if chocolate cake with rum buttercream frosting is in canon?" She shakes her head. "But I never developed a taste for wine. And pipe-weed stinks!" "Concentrate!" she admonishes herself. "Make it Tolkien-related! And canonical!" Adding up word counts nervously -- must have exactly 111! Cut ten here, two there. Counting and re-counting, getting different totals each time... What a silly obsession! "Fireworks! I almost forgot fireworks! How odd... I've always loved Gandalf's fireworks!" "There!" she yells triumphantly. "Finished! One hundred and..."

 

"There!" she yells triumphantly. "Finished! One hundred and..." Oh Barbara, that's brilliant! Wonder if chocolate cake with rum buttercream frosting is in canon? You would be the one to know! Thanks for sharing this! Cheers, Liz

 

"There!" she yells triumphantly. "Finished! One hundred and..." LOL! That was great! Cheryl

 

I'm glad it worked, Liz. I get so much from every plant, every bird the professor mentions especially knowing they each had a meaning to the victorian mind. I've always wanted to try it, even though I didn't have his confidence and mentioned their herbal connections. They are in my regular journal (fileg) and my writing journal (littlebrownbird).

 

Barbara, that was wonderful! And so familiar. Ohh, now I really want cake!

 

Oh Barbara, that's brilliant! *Blushes* Thanks, Liz! And it was so -- totally out of the blue. I had not intended to write a drabble for Bilbo & Frodo's birthday, but it just hit me yesterday afternoon and demanded to be written! You would be the one to know! My theory is, if Tolkien didn't write anything specifically refuting that chocolate cake with rum buttercream is canon, then it's canon to me! Yeah, that's it... - Barbara

 

LOL! That was great! Thank you, Cheryl! I really had fun with that one... - Barbara

 

Barbara, that was wonderful! And so familiar. Thank you, Powzie! LOL! Yes, I've been known to pull a few hairs out trying to meet the word count in drabbles... Ohh, now I really want cake! You and me both! - Barbara

 

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