Role Model Ruler
Disclaimer: I have no afflitiation with Tolkien Estates or New Line Cinema, which own this stuff.

Faramir had tried to please his father, but all for naught. He was not Boromir. Yet, now the king had not let him surrender the White Rod, but had made him Steward again. This king had love: for his country, his family, and his friends. Denethor would have seen a rival, but Faramir saw Aragorn, literally, as a dream come true. Here was a ruler who cared about his subjects, and showed it. Here was a ruler who had respect for the unique talents of each person’s talents, and sought to utilize them. Here was a ruler Faramir could admire.

Beauty for All to See
A double drabble for Vistula’s birthday, with some inspiration from The Secret Garden. Faramir and Sam discuss poetry and gardening.

“What are you doing this early?” Faramir asked warmly.

“N-nothing, sir.” Samwise blushed.

Faramir silently raised his eyebrows.

“That is, I was just trying to write a poem… about elves and such. Seems a shame not to after this journey, and all. It’s not good though.”

“Your master and his kinsmen tell me you wrote a poem about a troll that was quite good.”

“That was just foolishness. Nothing, really.” Sam blushed even redder.

“Please, Sam, will you read it to us?” Frodo appeared suddenly.

Hesitantly, Sam did … and was mortified when Faramir read it aloud at a formal dinner, albeit anonymously.

“Sir, that was just a bit of nothing. It isn’t proper, it being read to all those people by one as fair spoken as yourself.”

“On the contrary, Sam, such beauty mustn’t be hidden. How would you feel if someone planted a beautiful garden, but built a high wall around it?”

“A garden is meant to be seen, sir, but a poem can just be whatever was in the author’s head.”

“And a garden is what was in a gardener’s heart. So what is the difference, may I ask?”

Faramir walked away, leaving Sam to ponder that.

Contact and Cures

A drabble for Meril (Allie) on her birthday. An attempt to combine Galadriel/Celeborn, Houses of Healing, and a happy moment between Feanor and Nerdanel. Slightly forced, but oh well.

Eowyn’s life seemed to be connected with beautiful elf-maidens. Arwen was her Queen, and Galadriel her teacher.

“Even mortal bodies are designed to heal themselves. They just need a little help. Herbs are part of that, but sometimes people die of a broken-hearted loneliness. It is essential that everyone has contact with caring people.”

Eowyn thought of Faramir. He hadn’t left her alone. Healers, athelas, king’s hands---all of these had helped, but Faramir superseded them all.

Faramir and Celeborn entered.

“You look excited, Faramir.” Eowyn commented.

“I’ve been reading lost records. Apparently Feanor and Nerdanel had their happy moments.”

A/N: Wow! It's been a really long time. I was looking at some of my old stuff and found this drabblish-thing on my Livejournal (which I logged into today for the first time in four years.) Originally, this were written for the "There and Back" workshop that Juno Magic runs. This chapter was for exercise 2. It was a POV challenge, so I had to write in first, second, and third persons. I am posting the third person version here, as it is the one Juno Magic felt worked the best.

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If he had it to do over again, Beregond does not know what he would do. They say that trials develop character, but he fears that if he is not careful the only character he will have will be one of bitterness. He wonders what will happen to him. Execution? That would not be so bad, but for Bergil. Exile? That would perhaps be worst of all. He wonders why good deeds result in loss of stability. If he could choose between death and execution, he does not think he could. He questions why the healers spent their time on him. He cannot decide whether he is irritated at their attentions because there is nothing wrong with him or because he is a lost cause. He is glad everything is in the king's hands, and that he cannot go back to the past. He seems to have lost the power to make decisions.

Summary: Maglor reflects Written for the "Blue" prompt at tolkien_weekly. True drabble (100 words)

Disclaimer: Maglor and Middle Earth are Tolkien's. I am writing for fun and not for profit.

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The blue expanse of the sea stretches before me. I became a kin-slayer in order to cross it. Maedhros and I drove Elwing to jump off a cliff overlooking it, taking with her one of the jewels we sought. I watched, astounded, as Lord Ulmo turned her into a bird so she could fly away. Years later, I cast into this Sea the one Silmaril I had finally been able to hold. It was lost forever. The peaceful rise and fall of waves on the horizon do not fool me. This is a sea of tragedy, a sea of regrets.

For LOTR G-Fic Challenge "Some Like it Hot." The element was that it had to be exactly 144 words (one gross ).

Pippin was anxious to try the Haradren cuisine at the new inn. As the serving lass took his order, she asked “mild, medium, or hot?”

“Hot, please.” Pippin replied. He liked spicy food.

When the food came, the young hobbit enthusiastically attacked it. It was delicious, but awfully hot. Nevertheless, he finished the whole serving, because it would be a disgrace for a hobbit not to clean his plate.

Pippin was convinced his mouth was on fire. He had never eaten anything that spicy before in his whole life. He gulped down his ale, but it did not seem to help. He ate piece after piece of the garlic flavored flatbread that was on the table, but his mouth still refused to stop burning.

The serving lass noticed his distress. “You probably should have ordered mild or medium instead. Still, some like it hot!”

Two Copper Pennies
By Mysterious Jedi
A drabble for Marta
Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all associated bakeries belong to the Tolkien Estates.

The baker sighed. It seemed half the people in the city were guests of nobles who had their own bakers.

A curly-headed young boy came in.

“Two scones, please.”

“That will be two copper pennies.”

The boy quickly gave him the coins, took the scones, and ran off.

Well, there’s one sale for the day, the baker thought. But wait…did that cheeky lad give me fake coins? No… this is a northern penny! That wasn’t a boy, it was one of the pherrianath! At my little bakery!

He smiled. Maybe all these noble foreigners actually can be good for business!

Title: The Long Winter
Author: Mysterious Jedi
Characters: Hama (son of Helm Hammerhead)
Source: LOTR (appendices)
Rating:PG
Warnings: Character Death
Disclaimer:Based on the works of Tolkien. Not for profit.

a drabble for the Tolkien Weekly prompt "Blizzard"

Hunger. Burning hunger. Hunger so great that Háma and his men left Helm’s Deep to look for food. Cold. Freezing cold. Blinding snow. Must not stop. Must find food. Háma ‘s father had advised against this mission. But Helm Hammerhead, for all his skill in battle, could not fight this enemy. This hunger. So Helm’s younger son is on a quest. A quest for survival. Cold. Snow. Which way is Helm’s Deep? Is there any food? No animals. No plants. No food. Only cold. And snow. The cold does not feel so great now…and Háma is lost to this world.