Tolkien Drabbles...1

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I challenge you lurkers to do a small drabble.. its only 100 words no more no less microsoft word will even do the word count for you.  Exactly one hundred words, no more or less,  an idea, inkling, ficlet, thing. Piece of cake, and all hobbits love cake donchaknow.  They are fun they are addictive and they are perfectly bite sized for little nibblers. - Dandy

Four by Samwisegirl
Saruman's Voice
Four for Rohan Day
A Drabble for Legolas
Sam at the Dead Marshes
A Lament for the Shire
Pippin's Desire
Can it Be?
A Drabble for Boromir
A Drabble for the King
A Drabble for Pippin
The Gates of Moria
For Eowyn on a Windy Day
The End of All Things
A Drabble from Sam: Strider
Parting Thoughts
Do Not Worry
Pippin's Hurt
Three for the Scouring
Waiting for Boromir
Silivren Ithildin
Silivren Ithildin
Silivren Ithildin
Daisy Gold
Onono Laivindur
Silivren Ithildin
Silivren Ithildin
Orangeblossom Took

Four by Samwisegirl:

Merry: before the battle

He saw men three times his size buckle beneath their fear; trembling with a kind of palsy that only true terror could inspire. Yet, he was not afraid. He felt Eowyn’s warm breath on the back of his neck, and it comforted him. He had seen too much already to give in to fear. He would fight. To the bitter end. And if he was killed in battle, so much the better. He would go out a hero. He had time for one last thought before the Rohirrim rode to their almost certain doom. “I wish Pippin were with me.”

Pippin: in the streets

“Gandalf!” he cried. Desperately, he searched the city for the white wizard. His mind screamed at him to hurry, there was no more time. Faramir would die and it would be his fault. He could not allow that to happen. He realized his purpose in coming here. “This man, whose childhood clothing I wear, whose brother has died defending me and my kinsman, will die if I don’t do something!” He spotted the wizard, and heaved a great sigh of relief. As he spilled his tale to Gandalf, a single thought ran through his mind. “I wish Merry were here.”

Frodo: learning to hope

“I failed,” he thought miserably as he clung to the rocky outcropping with one hand. The good hand. He could barely see through the ash and smoke, and his tears. “Maybe if I just let go…it’ll be all right,” he thought. Then he saw Sam’s face floating above him; he saw Sam’s hands reaching for him. “Don’t you let go!” Sam sobbed; reaching, reaching for his master. “I must not fail Sam,” his mind cried. “I must reach up…for him. Because I love him.” His face changed from anguished to peaceful, and he grasped Sam’s hand with his wounded one.

Sam: letting him go

He watched the boat leave the harbor, sailing away into the sea. Was it sparkling from the sun, or his tears? He did not know. His task was finished. “Don’t you leave him…” Those words echoed in his mind as he turned his back on the sea. “Goodbye master” he said softly. He could still feel Frodo’s lips on his forehead. Merry put an arm around his shoulder, and on his other side, Pip slung an arm about his waist. The three of them walked slowly away from the dock. He dried his tears, and smiled. Frodo was at peace.


 Saruman's Voice

Tension rose as Gandalf hailed his former colleague. “Saruman!” Silence. “Saruman!” Then a voice so unexpected that it caught Pippin off guard. Quiet, reverent, respectful, sweet: “Well?” Pip sighed. It was going to be ok after all. This great confrontation, this clash between wizards. They had misjudged Saruman. The voice spoke again, reproachful, innocent, injured: “Why do you disturb my rest? What have you come for?” Guilt seized Pippin. Why had they come? What had the ents done, trapping Saruman in Orthanc. Gandalf’s reply was rough. The voice changed. Anger flashed, cruel, harsh and defiant.

And the spell was broken.
- onónë

For Gandalf:
Saying Goodbye:

“Not all tears are evil…” He stood on the deck of the majestic ship, watching the three hobbits in the distance grow ever smaller. He knew his time had come, but his heart insisted that there was still more to see, to do, and to learn. Always there was more to taste, to touch, to feel. He would miss this place. Tears glistened in his eyes, and one escaped its prison and eased down his weathered cheek into his beard. A tiny hand crept into his, and brilliant blue eyes looked up at him. “Gandalf? Don’t cry. I am here.”

For Theodred:
Eowyn's Sorrow:
She hovered over Theodred; caressing his cold, limp hand. Her tears fell upon his face like little jewels, a rainbow captured inside each drop of sorrow. Eowyn had never felt more alone. Her brother was missing, her uncle incapacitated, and her cousin lay dying under her watchful eye. The snake tried to comfort her, but she knew his tricks, and did not play into his waiting hands. Theodred’s death would break her; her sorrow would wash over her soul like the ocean waves over the shore, and there was no one to help her bear this burden. She was alone.

Eomer's Hope:
Eomer desperately searched the valley for any sign of his kinsman. A fetid stench brought them to the river, and the slaughter. Dozens of horses lay slain; their riders lay near them in eternal slumber. The Rohirrim spread out at Eomer’s word, searching for signs of life amongst the fallen; searching for Theodred. A shout from one of his men brought Eomer to his cousin at last, lying in a shallow pool of water, barely breathing but alive nonetheless. Eomer’s heart seized in its great joy, and he gently cradled his cousin in his strong arms. He would save Theodred.

Theoden's Despair:
The procession marched down the hillside; all clad in black and somber of face and mind. Theoden led the people to the tomb, his face drained of all color, and his eyes distant. He shed no tears. He could not believe his son was dead; stolen from him while he slumbered under the wizard’s spell. “I am a fool” he whispered to himself, as his niece’s melodious voice sang out an ode to Theodred in the old tongue. The body was placed in the tomb, and as it was sealed shut, her felt his heart shatter into a million pieces.

- Samwisegirl

A drabble for Legolas
So light is his footstep that he can walk upon the snow without breaking through. His far-seeing eyes are keen, and Aragorn relys on them time and again. He is swift: "I will bring back the sun," he says, without boasting, and he does. Quick is he with his bow; arrow after arrow is strung in succession and let loose, his hands feeling the task, his eyes never leaving their target. He can sleep while his eyes remain open, and is refreshed by the green smell alone. No woodland elf is he - he is the son of a king.
- boriel

For Sam at the Dead Marshes

The stench was thick in the breezeless rotting mires. The landscape was grey upon grey, the dark waters slimy and inhabited by slimier creatures. He watched The Stinker bound from each clump of dead grass and scum-covered hollow.

He closed his eyes.

He was walking the lane where Rosie lived and gardened. His heart would leap at the sight of her, loosely-tied hair caught in the breeze. She would hum and flit from plant to plant, much as a bird to each sweet-smelling flower.

He opened his eyes. The silence shattered the dank air.

“Not even a bird,” he mourned.
- Lisse

A Lament for the Shire

Oh, to be in the Shire again! Where I could be free to walk in the lanes unhindered and the green of the grass rivals the most brilliant emeralds. Where the water sings over rocks in the rivers and tastes like heaven. Where the food is plentiful and seems to me to be pure ambrosia. Where the hearts of our people are large enough to encompass everyone in love. Where the trees stretch to the heavens. Where I can touch the beautiful earth. Oh, to be in the Shire again where my heart will ever reside no matter where I've been!

Pippin's Desire
Galadriel had told him he would find his courage. He didn't know if he really believed her, but, he hoped it was true with all his heart. To be a true help to the Fellowship was his deepest desire. Being young and untested had left him unsure of himself, yet, as the journey went on Pippin began to slowly see that deep down, there was courage in him. He found he could make a difference and be a Hobbit of great worth. He did overcome his fears and became a Shireling that could be counted on in times of trouble.

Can it be?
Can it be? Is it possible? Can this man be who he says he is? Can he truly release us from this fate we have brought on ourselves? To be free once and for all from this Hell on Middle-Earth? To never have to see this mountainous wasteland again? Is it possible to regain the honor we so callously threw away those thousands of years ago? Can we finally be at peace? Can he truly be Isildur's heir? The only one who can hold our oaths fulfilled? I am ready to stand and fight for good. Yes, So Say I!!
-Silivren Ithildin

a drabble for boromir
Proud and noble he was, but compassionate and tender also. He took the two young hobbits under his protective mantle, keeping the wolves at bay in the gloom of night, carrying them through drifts of snow and telling them tales of Gondor. He comforted Gimli at Balin's tomb and consoled him after Gandalf's fall, begging Aragorn for more time to grieve. He followed his heart and in doing so fell under Its spell. He wasn't evil, but evil used him for its will. The spell was broken in the end, and although he lost his life, he kept his soul.

a drabble for the King

He was born with the name Aragorn but before he reached his teens his name became Estel. Once on his own, he became known as Strider, even called Longshanks by some less civil. Fourty-nine years of wandering earned him the title 'Thorongil' in one country, and he remained un-named in the other realm. By some he was called Bearer of the Star of the North. During the War of the Ring, he became Envinyatar - the renewer - as he healed many from the black breath. After the fall of Sauron, Elessar put aside all other names, and became the rightful King.

a drabble for pippin

What have I done? why cann'a leave things alone? All I wanted to do was touch that arrow embedded in the poor skeleton's chest. How was I to know that it would topple old 'bones' over the edge and into the well? And then the chest and the huge chain go clankin' in after 'im! Well now, gave me a right fright it did as it bounced and clattered all the way down to the deep bottom. And worse yet was the total silence that followed. But the real rub is how Gandalf is still looking at me and scowling
- boriel

The Gates of Moria

“Here at last.” said Gandalf.
They stood gazing, expectantly, at the wall.
“Where are the doors?” inquired Pippin.
“Dwarf doors are invisible and secret.” replied Gimli.
So they tap the stone walls looking for signs. Then, by the moonlight, they see the magical doors, their beautiful designs etched in silver filigree.
It was Gandalf who solved the riddle, awakening the sleeping portal. – ‘Speak friend and enter’.
“Mellon” he commanded.
What tricksey words are these? Heed them not! They invite you to your doom!
But the choice is made.
They follow Gandalf into the darkness that is deeper than the night.
- Daisy Gold

For Eowyn on a windy day

She stood outside the Golden hall, her white dress billowing around her and her blonde hair floating in the wind. She clasped her hands together, and stood elegantly squinting into the distance, as if she was expecting someone to appear on the horizon. A sentry walked past on his way to change the guards, and briefly wondered what she could be thinking on such a fine morning.

Little did he realise that her only thoughts were "Drat, I should have paid more attention when my mother taught me knitting, I could have done with a warm jumper and some mittens"

The end of all things

Frodo lay cushioned in air, suspended but solid, the ground rushing away beneath him. "I must be dreaming, or dying," he thought, and the idea brought no sorrow. "My task is done. I have fought the good fight, I have run the race, I have won my battle." Sighing, he closed his eyes as the world continued to whirl at breakneck speed, the wind warm on his face. There was no joy, no feeling of peace, no despair, no exhaustion: just weightlessness and softness and light. And the sound of the air being beaten up and down by two gentle wings.

a drabble from Sam: Strider

I still do not trust him, this man, this 'ranger. Where does he lead us to and why does Mr. Frodo take his council so willingly? He looks a rascally, dirty character and he smells funny, like leather that's been left out in the rain too long. His stride is so long that we can't keep up, and he has to stop and wait for us. Granted, he never complains about that, but his face is grim to look at and he seldom smiles. He carries a great sorrow upon him, a burden - not unlike Mr. Frodo. Oh! Poor Strider.
- boriel

Parting Thoughts
....a Boromir Drabble

Look at them run away, fading midst the forest haze, the sweet scents of pine and maple, the sun streaming through the branches, the copper taste of my blood, the dull thick pain in my chest, I can't seem to get enough air, the pain, where's Frodo run off to?

Aragorn, Aragorn, I'm sorry, I have failed you...

The gulls cry, so far from home they are...

Oh the pain, my sword, where is my sword?

I would have followed you my brother.
My Captain,
My King!

Mother there you are, take my hand and let’s walk together...
-Onóno Laivindur

Do Not Worry
My Love, do not worry. You have everything you need to be a great King within you. I know you think that having Isildur's blood flowing through your veins means you will fall prey to the same weaknesses he had, but, you are so much more than he ever was. Everything you have seen and done in your life time points to this. Anyone who has known you over the years, Elessar, knows your heart is true. You are so honorable, brave, compassionate and steadfast, that you could be nothing if not a Great Leader and King of your people.

Pippin's Hurt
Pippin, why did you have to look? You've always been an inquisitive Hobbit, of course, but this time it was a bad thing. This time you've ended up getting hurt.
The Dark One looked into your mind and hurt you. That was only the beginning. That led to Gandalf calling you foolish again, which hurts you every time.
But, the worst hurt by far for both of us came when we had to be separated because you looked. They had to get you away from Rohan because the Dark One thought you had the One Ring with you there. (((Pippin)))

-Silivren Ithildin


This is a scene from "The Scouring of the Shire" when Frodo and Merry are talking to Farmer Cotton. I've included excerpts from the book to begin and end my story. The 100 word drabble is in-between.

Sam went off. Merry arranged for look-outs round the village and guards at the barriers during the night. Then he and Frodo went off with Farmer Cotton. They sat with the family in the warm kitchen, and the Cottons asked a few polite questions about their travels, but hardly listened to the answers: They were far more concerned with the events in the Shire

“Mr. Frodo,” said Mr. Cotton, “What made you leave Crickhollow, if you would, sir?”
“I was sent for by Uncle Bilbo, “ began Mr. Frodo. He did not want to trouble Mr. Cotton with all the details of their story, but Merry had other ideas.
“There’s more than that, Mr. Cotton. Frodo saved the Shire, all Middle Earth for that matter, from the evils of the Dark Lord. There was a ring. Do you remember when Mr. Bilbo disappeared under the Party Tree? That ring was—“
“The Party Tree, you say, “ interrupted Tom. “You won’t believe what has happened to it.”…

"It all began with Pimple, as we call him," said Farmer Cotton: and it began as soon as you'd gone off, Mr. Frodo...."

And another...

Spring surpassed his wildest hopes. His trees began to sprout and grow…

“Mr. Frodo, “ Sam called out. “A sprout has come up in the Party Field. I know it’s no weed. I saw it first thing this morning. Please come and see.”
Frodo could use some fresh air as he was always writing. He finished elevenses and joined Sam.
As they walked past Sharkey’s End, they could not help but admire the early spring flowers, and their feet enjoyed the new soft grasses as they entered the Party Field. Suddenly they stopped and stared.
“Sam, that is no sprout. That is a sapling.”
“But, Mr. Frodo, it was a sprout this morning!”

And another...
Sam and Frodo are watching Merry and Pippin during the feast, (after King Aragorn has praised them with great praise.)

Pippin and Merry returned to their duties with Prince Imrahil and King Eomer, refilling their lords’ glasses.
“Look at that, Mr. Frodo. Pippin is all royal and actually properly serving his lordship. This is the same young Pip who splashes up the bath ‘til the tile floor is swimming.”
“I understand he’s made a splash around here, but not in that way. He’s a hero now, too, Sam. He’s become quite a sword-master. And Merry as well. “
“Rather tall sword masters. Mister Frodo, look carefully. Do you think Pip and Merry have not just grown in renown, but stature?”

Waiting for Boromir

A tall, dark-haired woman with a stern face stood still, staring into a blood-red sky. Her grey eyes are sharp and she scans the horizon for any sign of a rider. She has kept this vigil for over a hundred days. She has seen autumn pass into winter and winter pass into a stillborn spring. “Wait,” she thinks, “there is a rider coming.” It is not him and she sees what it is the messenger bears to Lord Denethor, cloven in two. She knows. She turns without a word, boundless sorrow curdling into a knot of anger in her stomach.

- Orangeblossom Took