(no subject)
Mar. 8th, 2004 11:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thrihyrneMore non-fanfiction RL stuff soon to be appearing in this LJ, but I've just been too tired and emotionally wrung out to actually write up my mini-whinging. So I haven't. Not all has been bad; I did try to take a nap yesterday, though the attempt was unsuccessful. Went to bed on time (11 o'clock ish), only to have story plots running through my head. Then I woke up again at some very early hour, hearing one of the cats retching in the bathroom. Lovely.
Doing better now. Survived my stepdaughter's 13th birthday party (actually mostly fun until I got all melancholy about realizing how little in common I have with the other parents present and feeling like a dork); read lots of fanfic (still need to send some reviews); and got some decent progress done on the following writing projects: the HASA paper, "Under the Waterfall"; have finished all but the Epilogue for "Speak, Friend and Enter" (and got the funniest forum post at HASA that I've ever received- never, Never, NEVER have I been referred to as 'dude' in that forum, or any forum, especially by another female fanfiction writer, ROFLMAO!!- and said person loves the story, which was a huge plus); and even started back on the last two vignettes for "The Hours." Now to finish the R/S story and "The Roasting of Ron Weasley" and I'll be done. Forever.
Oh, no, wait. I told![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
edeainfj I'd write her an Aragorn/Eowyn story set within JRRT's original plotline where there's no Arwen. Personally, it's far more belivable than what actually got written, the Beren/Luthien Part Deux that was shoved back into the Appendices. Not that I'm biased. ;)
So, here is the concluding scene for "SFAE," though there will be an Epilogue which will cut back to the Second Age. The other parts are earlier in the 'ol LJ. It's 20 pages long now. Sheesh. Jen is right- I'm not good at writing short things! Well, "The Hours" will be short.
There was already a large cluster of Elves speaking in subdued voices in the appointed clearing when Legolas and Gimli arrived. Above the lush and verdant canopy of Greenwood, a deepening richness of velvet twilight settled across the sky. Soon the first stars would appear and the Elves of the Woodland Realm and one lone Dwarf would sing praises and thanks to Varda.
“You don’t really expect me to sing, do you?” Gimli asked once they made their way to an area in which others of Thranduil’s house were standing together. “Not that I have an ugly voice, mind you, but unless Galadriel herself were here to ask it, I do not…”
Legolas patted him on the shoulder, the second time that day. “No, Gimli. But there will be a new song that I wrote while visiting you in Erebor, and that one I will translate for you. I may have learned to read your runes, but I cannot sing in Khudzul, and I do not expect you to sing in Sindarin.”
Gimli looked noticeably relieved. “Good.”
Legolas turned his gaze skyward, focusing on the half moon glowing brightly above the trees. “How beautiful evening is!” he sighed, letting his eyes rove across the heavens. “Soon the sky will be awash in glittering stars, lights of promise in the darkness.”
“Elves,” Gimli muttered. “Do you all spout off poetry at every moment?”
Legolas turned to glare at him, then his face softened as a lyric melody was played on a harp near them. A lone voice began singing, then another voice, lower, sang in harmony. Then another voice, then Legolas joined in. Within moments, the glade was filled with the chanting of Elvish song, a lilting caress of sounds that crescendoed into a wave of conviction; gratitude and supplication and fathomless longing.
Gimli stood with his feet apart, hands on his hips, his hands twitching where usually they would be comfortably resting on his axe or holding his pipe. Legolas had encouraged him in the most diplomatic manner shy of a demand that he leave both behind. Legolas’ eyes were focused on the trees around them, though for a brief moment he caught Gimli’s eye and smiled. The singing rose, crested, then fell back to a susurrative echo, ebbing away as Legolas sang the last phrase alone. A respectful silence hovered in the clearing, as though the trees themselves were absorbing the last of the notes, their leaves shimmering as a slight breeze stirred the boughs and branches.
Gimli had found himself inexplicably moved by the music, and though unable to grasp the message of what was being sung, he found that his eyes were damp with tears. Some of the Elves came up to Legolas, thanking him for the words of the paean, and Gimli rubbed at his eyes.
“Are you faring well?” Legolas asked, seeing the Dwarf’s movements.
“Yes, quite,” Gimli replied, embarrassed at the attention. “Just a bit of bark.”
Legolas nodded solemnly, then looked up at the deepening dusk. “Ah! Some of the stars have come out.” He pointed with his right arm, and Gimli stared at the armband as it caught the light of the moon.
“Legolas! The band!”
The Elf lowered his arm, inspecting Celebrimbor’s silver cuff as he did so. “I do not see anything out of the ordinary.”
“Back in the moonlight. Put it back in the light!” Gimli ordered.
Legolas did so, stepping over a pace into a bright swath of moonbeam. Across the widest part of the band, framed by the Tengwar script, were Dwarvish runes, glistening like quicksilver. Both companions stood in silence, staring at the message of ithildin on the relic from the Second Age.
To Narvi, Rockwright and Elf-Friend
***
“So, what were the words that you wrote after being so inspired by Narvi’s book?” Gimli asked as the Elvish entourage made their leisurely return to the King’s caverns.
“They were not inspired by his commentary on the making of the West Doors,” Legolas retorted. “I was intrigued by Narvi’s writings in general. He had an almost Elvish eye to detail.”
Gimli made an indignant sound. “We did not blunder into becoming master craftsmen, my friend. You have nothing on Dwarves when it comes to the finer points of observation.”
Legolas sighed. “Fine,” he acquiesced, turning his head to look again at the silver armband.
Chastened, Gimli quickly added, “But it is true that you are better poets.”
Legolas looked down at him, and smiled. “This is a translation, but you will understand the meaning.” His expression grew thoughtful as he spoke quietly.
What stood will stand, though all be fallen,
The good return that time has stolen.
Though creatures groan in misery,
Their flesh prefigures liberty
To end travail and bring to birth
Their new perfection in new earth.
At word of that enlivening
Let the trees of the woods all sing
And every field rejoice, let praise
Rise up out of the ground like grass.
They walked in silence for a ways, then Gimli spoke. “I have no doubt that Galadriel would have appreciated your words.” His voice was wistful. “I should finish my poem. It is not nearly as well written as yours, of course.” He focused his eyes on their path, fingers again clutching at the phantom space where his axe was normally found.
“Do not be so sure of that,” Legolas replied quietly. “I surmise that anything you gave to her in love she would have accepted readily.”
Gimli choked. “In love?” he reiterated. After a couple of deep breaths, he gazed up at Legolas, and found the Elf’s blue eyes were staring intensely at him. “Well, I don’t know what to call it.” He made a malcontented grumbling sound. “Doesn’t matter. She is gone. I could write poetry until I go blind and my hands can no longer hold a quill and she will never read them. I am no Elf. It’s not as though I will ever get on a boat that could take me to her.”
Legolas glanced up at a bright sickle shape of stars, then down at the silver band clasped on his forearm, a contemplative expression on his face.
“Do not be so sure of that either.”
*******
Epilogue soon to come…
That poem is by Wendell Berry, BTW. Not yours truly.
Doing better now. Survived my stepdaughter's 13th birthday party (actually mostly fun until I got all melancholy about realizing how little in common I have with the other parents present and feeling like a dork); read lots of fanfic (still need to send some reviews); and got some decent progress done on the following writing projects: the HASA paper, "Under the Waterfall"; have finished all but the Epilogue for "Speak, Friend and Enter" (and got the funniest forum post at HASA that I've ever received- never, Never, NEVER have I been referred to as 'dude' in that forum, or any forum, especially by another female fanfiction writer, ROFLMAO!!- and said person loves the story, which was a huge plus); and even started back on the last two vignettes for "The Hours." Now to finish the R/S story and "The Roasting of Ron Weasley" and I'll be done. Forever.
Oh, no, wait. I told
edeainfj I'd write her an Aragorn/Eowyn story set within JRRT's original plotline where there's no Arwen. Personally, it's far more belivable than what actually got written, the Beren/Luthien Part Deux that was shoved back into the Appendices. Not that I'm biased. ;)So, here is the concluding scene for "SFAE," though there will be an Epilogue which will cut back to the Second Age. The other parts are earlier in the 'ol LJ. It's 20 pages long now. Sheesh. Jen is right- I'm not good at writing short things! Well, "The Hours" will be short.
There was already a large cluster of Elves speaking in subdued voices in the appointed clearing when Legolas and Gimli arrived. Above the lush and verdant canopy of Greenwood, a deepening richness of velvet twilight settled across the sky. Soon the first stars would appear and the Elves of the Woodland Realm and one lone Dwarf would sing praises and thanks to Varda.
“You don’t really expect me to sing, do you?” Gimli asked once they made their way to an area in which others of Thranduil’s house were standing together. “Not that I have an ugly voice, mind you, but unless Galadriel herself were here to ask it, I do not…”
Legolas patted him on the shoulder, the second time that day. “No, Gimli. But there will be a new song that I wrote while visiting you in Erebor, and that one I will translate for you. I may have learned to read your runes, but I cannot sing in Khudzul, and I do not expect you to sing in Sindarin.”
Gimli looked noticeably relieved. “Good.”
Legolas turned his gaze skyward, focusing on the half moon glowing brightly above the trees. “How beautiful evening is!” he sighed, letting his eyes rove across the heavens. “Soon the sky will be awash in glittering stars, lights of promise in the darkness.”
“Elves,” Gimli muttered. “Do you all spout off poetry at every moment?”
Legolas turned to glare at him, then his face softened as a lyric melody was played on a harp near them. A lone voice began singing, then another voice, lower, sang in harmony. Then another voice, then Legolas joined in. Within moments, the glade was filled with the chanting of Elvish song, a lilting caress of sounds that crescendoed into a wave of conviction; gratitude and supplication and fathomless longing.
Gimli stood with his feet apart, hands on his hips, his hands twitching where usually they would be comfortably resting on his axe or holding his pipe. Legolas had encouraged him in the most diplomatic manner shy of a demand that he leave both behind. Legolas’ eyes were focused on the trees around them, though for a brief moment he caught Gimli’s eye and smiled. The singing rose, crested, then fell back to a susurrative echo, ebbing away as Legolas sang the last phrase alone. A respectful silence hovered in the clearing, as though the trees themselves were absorbing the last of the notes, their leaves shimmering as a slight breeze stirred the boughs and branches.
Gimli had found himself inexplicably moved by the music, and though unable to grasp the message of what was being sung, he found that his eyes were damp with tears. Some of the Elves came up to Legolas, thanking him for the words of the paean, and Gimli rubbed at his eyes.
“Are you faring well?” Legolas asked, seeing the Dwarf’s movements.
“Yes, quite,” Gimli replied, embarrassed at the attention. “Just a bit of bark.”
Legolas nodded solemnly, then looked up at the deepening dusk. “Ah! Some of the stars have come out.” He pointed with his right arm, and Gimli stared at the armband as it caught the light of the moon.
“Legolas! The band!”
The Elf lowered his arm, inspecting Celebrimbor’s silver cuff as he did so. “I do not see anything out of the ordinary.”
“Back in the moonlight. Put it back in the light!” Gimli ordered.
Legolas did so, stepping over a pace into a bright swath of moonbeam. Across the widest part of the band, framed by the Tengwar script, were Dwarvish runes, glistening like quicksilver. Both companions stood in silence, staring at the message of ithildin on the relic from the Second Age.
***
“So, what were the words that you wrote after being so inspired by Narvi’s book?” Gimli asked as the Elvish entourage made their leisurely return to the King’s caverns.
“They were not inspired by his commentary on the making of the West Doors,” Legolas retorted. “I was intrigued by Narvi’s writings in general. He had an almost Elvish eye to detail.”
Gimli made an indignant sound. “We did not blunder into becoming master craftsmen, my friend. You have nothing on Dwarves when it comes to the finer points of observation.”
Legolas sighed. “Fine,” he acquiesced, turning his head to look again at the silver armband.
Chastened, Gimli quickly added, “But it is true that you are better poets.”
Legolas looked down at him, and smiled. “This is a translation, but you will understand the meaning.” His expression grew thoughtful as he spoke quietly.
What stood will stand, though all be fallen,
The good return that time has stolen.
Though creatures groan in misery,
Their flesh prefigures liberty
To end travail and bring to birth
Their new perfection in new earth.
At word of that enlivening
Let the trees of the woods all sing
And every field rejoice, let praise
Rise up out of the ground like grass.
They walked in silence for a ways, then Gimli spoke. “I have no doubt that Galadriel would have appreciated your words.” His voice was wistful. “I should finish my poem. It is not nearly as well written as yours, of course.” He focused his eyes on their path, fingers again clutching at the phantom space where his axe was normally found.
“Do not be so sure of that,” Legolas replied quietly. “I surmise that anything you gave to her in love she would have accepted readily.”
Gimli choked. “In love?” he reiterated. After a couple of deep breaths, he gazed up at Legolas, and found the Elf’s blue eyes were staring intensely at him. “Well, I don’t know what to call it.” He made a malcontented grumbling sound. “Doesn’t matter. She is gone. I could write poetry until I go blind and my hands can no longer hold a quill and she will never read them. I am no Elf. It’s not as though I will ever get on a boat that could take me to her.”
Legolas glanced up at a bright sickle shape of stars, then down at the silver band clasped on his forearm, a contemplative expression on his face.
“Do not be so sure of that either.”
*******
That poem is by Wendell Berry, BTW. Not yours truly.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-08 06:43 pm (UTC)Gah, I feel like the lone Ninja Turtle at Parma--scarfing down pizza, throwing out "cowabunga"s left and right...
Not that that's a bad thing. And the point is, really, that I LOVE the Gimli/Legolas poetry conversations you write (knew I'd get there sometime). They are so sharp. We did not blunder into becoming master craftsmen, my friend. YEAH! Gimli is the greatest.
Whew, I'm being a dork. I'd better go play with my paddleball before the roof caves in...
PS: You don't have to feel silly in front of other people's parents. I think you'd be an awesome mom.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-08 09:28 pm (UTC)You're so funny! It's probably because I'm never over in the forums at Parma or the chat room. Rest assured that I did not inspire such high language when I was in Barliman's all the time!!
YEAH! Gimli is the greatest.
I think so. He gets to be the kindof Sirius Black in my little Ardaverse; he gets to have the subtly sarcastic one-liners.
I think you'd be an awesome mom.
I'm a pretty decent step-parent; I just get overly analytical at times, when other parents are talking about baseball and soccer (which I can do too; my stepson plays sports) and I'm thinking, "Wow. And I sit around on free nights and write or read fanfiction. You just have no idea..."
It's okay. I was mostly out of my funk by this morning.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-08 09:39 pm (UTC)Totally! He's Mr. Cut-to-the-chase in LotR, I agree. You know that scene in your R/S fic where Sirius is reading LotR and making fun of Aragorn and all his names and jewelry? I could imagine Gimli reading Frodo's Red Book and having the same attitude.
"Listen, elf..."
^ That's what I'd put on a Gimli t-shirt. :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-08 09:54 pm (UTC)I'm looking forward to summer for the fact that I can wear my "Got Gimli?" tshirt again. ***giggle***
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-09 05:27 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-09 04:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-09 06:21 am (UTC)Whaa-a-aat? How can you be done forever, girly? I'm sure there are enough appendices to keep you gainfully crafting till you next come visit me :)
Thought you'd enjoy this: I was told today that a friend (who recently separated from his wife of 7 yrs) was feeling a bit melancholy and like he needed hobbies. He is surrounded by people with hobbies and activities, like me, "who is so smart." I don't think "smart" qualifies as a hobby and I couldn't help thinking "Hmmm, does he mean I'm a smart-_arse_? Could that be considered an activity/hobby??" :p
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-09 04:55 pm (UTC)He is surrounded by people with hobbies and activities, like me, "who is so smart." I don't think "smart" qualifies as a hobby and I couldn't help thinking "Hmmm, does he mean I'm a smart-_arse_? Could that be considered an activity/hobby??"
You are smart. Everybody who knows you knows that, you lug! But being smart is not a hobby, that's true.
Do you want a roommate in Melbourne? I'm ready to move. Now.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-10 12:20 am (UTC)we're taking digi-cam to Melb with us tomorrow so if I find my new digs, I can show you what it looks like. will also have to meet new university colleagues who are interested in meeting 'prestigious new research fellow'...eeeep! *compresses urge to hyperventilate* it'll be fine, it'll be fine, it'll be fine, it'll be fine...
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-09 04:56 pm (UTC)Whaa-a-aat? How can you be done forever, girly?
Because my brain is tired. I do love writing, and maybe I won't be done forever. Maybe just a break.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-09 10:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-10 07:44 pm (UTC)Well, now that I know what it is like to have reviews of my stories, I am more than pleased to do the same when I come across stories than really affect me, or are stunningly written. You just seem to have written a lot which falls into those categories!
Welcome to the Mountainous Fanfiction-Spouting area here known as Thrihyrne. Though I've been writing Tolkien, I do pass frequently between the Ardaverse and HP world, as you well know, so maybe you'll like my ramblings as I finish up some Tolkien-based stories too! And I really need to get back to work on my second R/S story. Ah, for more time...