Home Is Where You Are
"I'm ok."
"No, you're not. It's that Gollum, it's this place, it's that thing around your neck. I could help. I could carry it for you."
"No Sam, it's you. Go home."
Sam stares at his master in horror. Could he really be saying these words? Sam looks at Frodo with these unspoken words, Home is where you are. I will follow you.
Samwise, beloved friend, you can't help anymore. Go home, be safe.
Sam falls back against the wall, tears flowins as Frodo follows Gollum. Down the stairs,
Sam sees Gollum's treachery and goes back to save Frodo.
- Pippin's Sunshine
For Strider
A man wearies of mistrusting all around him, his heart longs for friendship even though his instincts tell him naught. It is long since I've been able to smoke my pipe in silent companionship with Gandalf. Long since I was able to roam freely in utter abandonment in Rivendell. Long since I've not had to look over my shoulder, tread softly through rustling leaves, leaving no footprints, making no sounds.
I have not spoken a word out loud in days, have not sat vulnerable against the open sky, or sparked a roaring blaze just for warmth.
I am a ranger.
For
Celeborn
Grief. It was as substantial as a wisp of cloud, and yet it was etched onto their faces as if someone had carved it there. Celeborn looked at each of them in turn, feeling their sorrow as keenly as if it were his own, and his heart cried out for their fallen comrade. His beloved wife would ease their pain; she always had that gift. She had touched their hearts, but none so much as the weary dwarf. Celeborn smiled gently at the smaller creature, for he knew what it was like to love the lady of the golden wood.
Grief. It was as substantial as a wisp of cloud, and yet it was etched onto their faces as if someone had carved it there. Celeborn looked at each of them in turn, feeling their sorrow as keenly as if it were his own, and his heart cried out for their fallen comrade. His beloved wife would ease their pain; she always had that gift. She had touched their hearts, but none so much as the weary dwarf. Celeborn smiled gently at the smaller creature, for he knew what it was like to love the lady of the golden wood.
- samwisegirl
For Strider
A man wearies of mistrusting all around him, his heart longs for friendship even though his instincts tell him naught. It is long since I've been able to smoke my pipe in silent companionship with Gandalf. Long since I was able to roam freely in utter abandonment in Rivendell. Long since I've not had to look over my shoulder, tread softly through rustling leaves, leaving no footprints, making no sounds.
I have not spoken a word out loud in days, have not sat vulnerable against the open sky, or sparked a roaring blaze just for warmth.
I am a ranger.
- boriel
The Calling Forth of the Dead
The terrible grey, a mist of fog and fear was all around them. A nightmare that seemed to never end; the dim shreds of banners and spears always on the edge of sight, never fully there. The echoes of ghostly voices, a presence, not of evil but rather of the ghostly cobwebs of dishonor clinging, dragging across their souls.
A cold, dead stone of memory stood before them. His voice was raised, a single living voice among the Dead, the only voice that could grant them their release.
The light of morning broke at last, tearing away the crumbled shrouds.
The Calling Forth of the Dead
The terrible grey, a mist of fog and fear was all around them. A nightmare that seemed to never end; the dim shreds of banners and spears always on the edge of sight, never fully there. The echoes of ghostly voices, a presence, not of evil but rather of the ghostly cobwebs of dishonor clinging, dragging across their souls.
A cold, dead stone of memory stood before them. His voice was raised, a single living voice among the Dead, the only voice that could grant them their release.
The light of morning broke at last, tearing away the crumbled shrouds.
- Primula
The Beacons
The beacon is lit, the message sent, whether Denethor wills it or not. I know well the path it will take, from Gondor to Amon Dean and then onward along the mountain chain. I can picture each fire springing up as the men who have watched and waited carry out their ancient duties. Finally, the last beacon will light on the hill above Edoras. Who will see it? Who will carry the word to the King? I believe that Theoden is an honorable man. I believe that he will come. I can only hope that he will be in time.
The Beacons
The beacon is lit, the message sent, whether Denethor wills it or not. I know well the path it will take, from Gondor to Amon Dean and then onward along the mountain chain. I can picture each fire springing up as the men who have watched and waited carry out their ancient duties. Finally, the last beacon will light on the hill above Edoras. Who will see it? Who will carry the word to the King? I believe that Theoden is an honorable man. I believe that he will come. I can only hope that he will be in time.
- Nuroreiel
In the halls of the dead
The whispers of the dead fill the empty halls. Dark tombs these caves have become. Would I have been earlier, I might have saved him. Balin. I would have followed him anywhere, but father did not allow it. Stern but fair, my cousin brought Moria to its former glory. Now all that is gone; snuffed out in the Balrog’s fury. Now there is little left but ash and bones. And grief. My tears flow along the creases of my rugged cheeks, leaving little jewels of sorrow in my beard. My comrades comfort me, but there is no cure for loss.
In the halls of the dead
The whispers of the dead fill the empty halls. Dark tombs these caves have become. Would I have been earlier, I might have saved him. Balin. I would have followed him anywhere, but father did not allow it. Stern but fair, my cousin brought Moria to its former glory. Now all that is gone; snuffed out in the Balrog’s fury. Now there is little left but ash and bones. And grief. My tears flow along the creases of my rugged cheeks, leaving little jewels of sorrow in my beard. My comrades comfort me, but there is no cure for loss.
- Samwisegirl
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.
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.
- boriel
The Dark And The Light
a poetic drabble
Above the din of the hammer falls I could not hear myself even think.
But now alone here standing in the dark, with one torch, on the brink;
Staring out and down into the darkness, I find that I miss,
The broad sunny Plain of Rohan, and riding with Legolas.
Our bouts of jest and rancor, I recall now with a sigh.
His deft use of bow and shaft so often saved my life.
I would trade all the Mithril and jewels, in this whole vast mine,
To be one day with that Pointy-Eared Elf, that dear friend of mine.
Please Don't Tell Sam
“If you move again, I will call the Master Healer, and I assure you he will be none too pleased to know that you are causing me such grief. I have served the Houses of Healing for nigh unto an age, I will have you know, and none have ever….”
‘Would she never be still?’ he wondered, his head throbbing with every word she spoke.
The clamor of her speech slowly tapered as darkness wrapped him and Pippin, who friends would have said was the perfect mirror to the woman who tended him, gratefully drifted off.
Much to Merry’s horror.
Late
Denethor's eyes flew open. His heart was screaming in his chest. He groaned. How could this have happened?
He had missed the meeting. His father would be livid. Why had no one woken him?
He lay, huddled in his bed, trying to think what he could say, what excuse he could give, but he knew there was none.
Slowly, he moved the covers and swung his legs off the bed. The cold of the marble floor made him grimace and tightened his toes into a fierce cramp.
He opened the drapes. The sky was dark.
It had been a dream.
The White Tree
Looking across the courtyard, the sun was spilling over the evening sky. And there I saw it, standing high, what once used to be great and blanketed with flowers, was now grey, and disappointing to those who first lay their eyes upon it.
A voice suddenly called inside my head. “Look not at what you see before thy eyes, but what thy see in days to come, in days that are past.” The voice faded out. I walked to the tree and, hesitantly, lay a hand on a branch. It was somewhat smooth, then I noticed, a white flower bud.
Looking across the courtyard, the sun was spilling over the evening sky. And there I saw it, standing high, what once used to be great and blanketed with flowers, was now grey, and disappointing to those who first lay their eyes upon it.
A voice suddenly called inside my head. “Look not at what you see before thy eyes, but what thy see in days to come, in days that are past.” The voice faded out. I walked to the tree and, hesitantly, lay a hand on a branch. It was somewhat smooth, then I noticed, a white flower bud.
- Highland Elf
The Dark And The Light
a poetic drabble
Above the din of the hammer falls I could not hear myself even think.
But now alone here standing in the dark, with one torch, on the brink;
Staring out and down into the darkness, I find that I miss,
The broad sunny Plain of Rohan, and riding with Legolas.
Our bouts of jest and rancor, I recall now with a sigh.
His deft use of bow and shaft so often saved my life.
I would trade all the Mithril and jewels, in this whole vast mine,
To be one day with that Pointy-Eared Elf, that dear friend of mine.
Please Don't Tell Sam
“If you move again, I will call the Master Healer, and I assure you he will be none too pleased to know that you are causing me such grief. I have served the Houses of Healing for nigh unto an age, I will have you know, and none have ever….”
‘Would she never be still?’ he wondered, his head throbbing with every word she spoke.
The clamor of her speech slowly tapered as darkness wrapped him and Pippin, who friends would have said was the perfect mirror to the woman who tended him, gratefully drifted off.
Much to Merry’s horror.
Late
Denethor's eyes flew open. His heart was screaming in his chest. He groaned. How could this have happened?
He had missed the meeting. His father would be livid. Why had no one woken him?
He lay, huddled in his bed, trying to think what he could say, what excuse he could give, but he knew there was none.
Slowly, he moved the covers and swung his legs off the bed. The cold of the marble floor made him grimace and tightened his toes into a fierce cramp.
He opened the drapes. The sky was dark.
It had been a dream.
- Agape4Rivendell
An Angsty Drabble
They had been hunted over the mountains of Mordor; knowing that the terrible evil hunting them from above would never rest until they were caught. With each step, they felt the weight of their mortality hanging on them; sapping their hope and willing them to give up the flight.
Yet they knew that to stop would mean that their quest had failed. That those they had left at home would never see them again. So they fought to keep going. Even as they felt the air, rife with evil, pass over them . . . and grab them.
Poor Coneys.
An Angsty Drabble
They had been hunted over the mountains of Mordor; knowing that the terrible evil hunting them from above would never rest until they were caught. With each step, they felt the weight of their mortality hanging on them; sapping their hope and willing them to give up the flight.
Yet they knew that to stop would mean that their quest had failed. That those they had left at home would never see them again. So they fought to keep going. Even as they felt the air, rife with evil, pass over them . . . and grab them.
Poor Coneys.
- Dr. Gamgee
The Father-Son Picnic
Warm rays suffused the forest glade with greenish gold light as Thranduil rested his hand on Legolas’ arm.
“I am sorry to see you leave, Legolas, but I am glad that we will have this last feast together,” he gestured toward the tables where several elves were spreading the contents of large picnic baskets, “and I will be pleased to finally meet this friend of whom you have spoken so highly, with whom you intend to travel.”
Then his grip on his son’s arm tightened as he spied the figures entering the glade from the opposite side.
“You!” he exclaimed.
II.
The forest loomed darkly overhead as the two dwarves marched steadily along the road.
"...fought by your side in the war," Gloín was saying to Gimli. "Truly, he is a worthy friend, and I am most honored to meet him. But why here?” He gestured about them. “Though I'll grant it’s not so dreadful gloomy as it was the last time I traveled through here. Black as night it was then… no clean water, no game, just those awful spiders... and those Elves!"
The forest brightened as they reached the glade, and Gloín saw who awaited them. “You!” he thundered.
III.
Thranduil and Gloín attempted to stare each other down while simultaneously addressing their sons:
“You invited…”
“You expect me to sup with…”
“…hairy, gold-sniffing…”
“…pointy-eared, arrogant…”
“…after all the trouble he and his kind caused us?”
“…after he locked Thorin and the rest of us in his dungeon?”
“Now, Father!”, Legolas and Gimli chorused.
Legolas gestured at the laden table, “Please, everyone, may we just sit down, enjoy the meal and try to be civil to one another.”
“Aye, let’s eat!”, Gimli agreed heartily, reminding Legolas momentarily of a certain Hobbit.
Elf-king and dwarf-lord continued to glower at one another.
III.
Gloín poked at the venison on his plate and muttered inaudible deprecations upon the heads of Elves.
Gimli shook his head ruefully and said, “We Dwarves were once the friends of Elves, and they were ours. It is long past time we put aside our quarrel. Legolas is my truest friend; I trust him with my life.” He drew forth a small, ornately crafted mithril box and caressed it reverently. “As for the Lady Galadriel of Lóthlorien, there is none more fair in all of Middle-Earth… ”
Gloín arched an eyebrow at him, sighed in resignation, and began to eat.
IV.
Gloín pushed away his empty plate and reached for his pipe. “The roast venison was quite acceptable”, he pronounced, “though it would have gone down better with a nice stout ale.”
Thranduil inclined his head graciously toward Gloín. “Perhaps one day, we’ll share a pint... over your table.”
“Aye, I do owe you one,” Gloín agreed, “but if you don’t mind your manners, you’ll be floating home in a barrel.”
Thranduil glared at him… then smirked... then chuckled. Gloín was startled momentarily, but then laughed with him.
Legolas leaned close to Gimli and whispered, “I told you it would work.”
Warm rays suffused the forest glade with greenish gold light as Thranduil rested his hand on Legolas’ arm.
“I am sorry to see you leave, Legolas, but I am glad that we will have this last feast together,” he gestured toward the tables where several elves were spreading the contents of large picnic baskets, “and I will be pleased to finally meet this friend of whom you have spoken so highly, with whom you intend to travel.”
Then his grip on his son’s arm tightened as he spied the figures entering the glade from the opposite side.
“You!” he exclaimed.
II.
The forest loomed darkly overhead as the two dwarves marched steadily along the road.
"...fought by your side in the war," Gloín was saying to Gimli. "Truly, he is a worthy friend, and I am most honored to meet him. But why here?” He gestured about them. “Though I'll grant it’s not so dreadful gloomy as it was the last time I traveled through here. Black as night it was then… no clean water, no game, just those awful spiders... and those Elves!"
The forest brightened as they reached the glade, and Gloín saw who awaited them. “You!” he thundered.
III.
Thranduil and Gloín attempted to stare each other down while simultaneously addressing their sons:
“You invited…”
“You expect me to sup with…”
“…hairy, gold-sniffing…”
“…pointy-eared, arrogant…”
“…after all the trouble he and his kind caused us?”
“…after he locked Thorin and the rest of us in his dungeon?”
“Now, Father!”, Legolas and Gimli chorused.
Legolas gestured at the laden table, “Please, everyone, may we just sit down, enjoy the meal and try to be civil to one another.”
“Aye, let’s eat!”, Gimli agreed heartily, reminding Legolas momentarily of a certain Hobbit.
Elf-king and dwarf-lord continued to glower at one another.
III.
Gloín poked at the venison on his plate and muttered inaudible deprecations upon the heads of Elves.
Gimli shook his head ruefully and said, “We Dwarves were once the friends of Elves, and they were ours. It is long past time we put aside our quarrel. Legolas is my truest friend; I trust him with my life.” He drew forth a small, ornately crafted mithril box and caressed it reverently. “As for the Lady Galadriel of Lóthlorien, there is none more fair in all of Middle-Earth… ”
Gloín arched an eyebrow at him, sighed in resignation, and began to eat.
IV.
Gloín pushed away his empty plate and reached for his pipe. “The roast venison was quite acceptable”, he pronounced, “though it would have gone down better with a nice stout ale.”
Thranduil inclined his head graciously toward Gloín. “Perhaps one day, we’ll share a pint... over your table.”
“Aye, I do owe you one,” Gloín agreed, “but if you don’t mind your manners, you’ll be floating home in a barrel.”
Thranduil glared at him… then smirked... then chuckled. Gloín was startled momentarily, but then laughed with him.
Legolas leaned close to Gimli and whispered, “I told you it would work.”
- Daughter of Kings
Dead
"Shut yer gob; I hear somethin’,” the Orc next to him turned.
“What are ya talkin’ about? I don’t hear nothin’,” he stated, scratching his head and looking everywhere but up.
The pail hit the first Orc’s head dead center before he even had a moment to look up. What brains were in him were effectively squashed.
“Argh,” the second Orc screamed and jumped back. “The cave is falling!” He ran right and left, screaming at the top of his lungs as more debris fell: a dismembered skeleton, a long chain, and a sword.
Pippin looked down the well, horrified.
Dead
"Shut yer gob; I hear somethin’,” the Orc next to him turned.
“What are ya talkin’ about? I don’t hear nothin’,” he stated, scratching his head and looking everywhere but up.
The pail hit the first Orc’s head dead center before he even had a moment to look up. What brains were in him were effectively squashed.
“Argh,” the second Orc screamed and jumped back. “The cave is falling!” He ran right and left, screaming at the top of his lungs as more debris fell: a dismembered skeleton, a long chain, and a sword.
Pippin looked down the well, horrified.
- Agape4Rivendell
Hide & Seek
They had played hide and seek all morning and still he had not once been able to find him. Always, he had to surrender. Then, it would be his turn to hide and he would be found before a moment’s hesitation. He knew his playmate was quick, but this was becoming absurd.
Now, he wished his playmate was with him, for he had been commanded to find the halflings and protect them. Instead, he found the band of Orcs charging down the hill towards the defenseless little ones.
“Faramir,” he sighed. “Would that you had taught these little ones to hide.”
Hide & Seek
They had played hide and seek all morning and still he had not once been able to find him. Always, he had to surrender. Then, it would be his turn to hide and he would be found before a moment’s hesitation. He knew his playmate was quick, but this was becoming absurd.
Now, he wished his playmate was with him, for he had been commanded to find the halflings and protect them. Instead, he found the band of Orcs charging down the hill towards the defenseless little ones.
“Faramir,” he sighed. “Would that you had taught these little ones to hide.”
- Agape4Rivendell
Eyes - A Drabble
His eyes. There was something amiss, she could sense it. She looked deep into his eyes, those strange blue wells, but found no answer. Then she looked into that pair of hazel eyes she loved so much. “Goodbye, lads, and save journey !” “Goodbye, Mistress Rose” – he stepped up to her and squeezed her hand very gently. And then she understood - and was afraid, but there was a whisper in her ear “ He will be back, I promise”. Yes, she knew he would, but she was afraid of what look this homecoming would bring into the hazel eyes.
Eyes - A Drabble
His eyes. There was something amiss, she could sense it. She looked deep into his eyes, those strange blue wells, but found no answer. Then she looked into that pair of hazel eyes she loved so much. “Goodbye, lads, and save journey !” “Goodbye, Mistress Rose” – he stepped up to her and squeezed her hand very gently. And then she understood - and was afraid, but there was a whisper in her ear “ He will be back, I promise”. Yes, she knew he would, but she was afraid of what look this homecoming would bring into the hazel eyes.
- Rosie Cotton
Amidst the Flowers
Grief. The word he had flung at her so long ago, hung in the air over the funeral byre as incense wrapped around her heart. Ada had said it would be thus. Bitter were his words spoken so long ago, and bitter now they rang again as if just spoken.
Cerin Amroth beckoned, where first they met, kin and yet not; then, she walked in that fair land, covered with elanor and niphredil. Now, overborne by grief profound, she found herself marked for doom as was Lúthien Tinúviel. She laid herself down amidst the flowers and woke no more.
Slave of the Shadow: A Ringwraith’s Lament
I was once a man, a King of Men. Sometimes I can remember a face, a voice, or the color of sunlight. Did a father, uncle, brothers or all of those die for my ambition? My name is lost to me, along with all I once was. I came to ring and shadow young, I think. The Eye burns behind my sightless eyes like a torturer’s brand and sears the images away. Past, present, and future are painted in the red of blood and an unutterable blackness. I was a King but I am now a slave to the Shadow.
The River
The River was the best way for them to travel and avoid any pursuit, but it was fraught with its own perils also. Great slime-ridden rocks rose up all frothing from the deep, white foam surging around them in endless striving. Other rocks could be seen below the clear waters, vague shapes, to Sam's mind, they threatened to rip out the bottoms of their boats. Icy, stony dragons hidden away, malicious. The waters of the Anduin were swift and deep, deeper than the cold, running fears of all the world it seemed to Sam. No, he did not care for boats.
Amidst the Flowers
Grief. The word he had flung at her so long ago, hung in the air over the funeral byre as incense wrapped around her heart. Ada had said it would be thus. Bitter were his words spoken so long ago, and bitter now they rang again as if just spoken.
Cerin Amroth beckoned, where first they met, kin and yet not; then, she walked in that fair land, covered with elanor and niphredil. Now, overborne by grief profound, she found herself marked for doom as was Lúthien Tinúviel. She laid herself down amidst the flowers and woke no more.
- Agape4Rivendell
Slave of the Shadow: A Ringwraith’s Lament
I was once a man, a King of Men. Sometimes I can remember a face, a voice, or the color of sunlight. Did a father, uncle, brothers or all of those die for my ambition? My name is lost to me, along with all I once was. I came to ring and shadow young, I think. The Eye burns behind my sightless eyes like a torturer’s brand and sears the images away. Past, present, and future are painted in the red of blood and an unutterable blackness. I was a King but I am now a slave to the Shadow.
- Orangeblossom Took
The River
The River was the best way for them to travel and avoid any pursuit, but it was fraught with its own perils also. Great slime-ridden rocks rose up all frothing from the deep, white foam surging around them in endless striving. Other rocks could be seen below the clear waters, vague shapes, to Sam's mind, they threatened to rip out the bottoms of their boats. Icy, stony dragons hidden away, malicious. The waters of the Anduin were swift and deep, deeper than the cold, running fears of all the world it seemed to Sam. No, he did not care for boats.
- Primula