Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

Each daily drabble for National Quality Writing Month (NaQuaWriMo) will be based on or inspired by a prompt provided by my Facebook friends and friends from my various writing groups across the internet. The prompt(s) and the individual(s) who provided it(them) will be annotated at the bottom of each drabble, so credit is given where credit is due. :) Here is the first of 30 drabbles to be written and posted over the course of the month of November. Exactly 100 words per Microsoft Word(tm).

Pippin grinned as he squirmed through the bushes that edged the garden, dragging a cloth sack behind him. The strawberries, dew-touched, glimmered in the light of the full moon.

Nimble fingers made short work of filling the sack, and he scrambled back towards the shadowed, leafy, passageway, to sneak back to his bedroom with his booty.

When he emerged from the other side of the hedge, the sack snagged on a branch and spilled. As he scrambled to gather up the fruit,someone cleared his throat behind him. He cringed.

Prompt: "Oh, crap!" provided by Jo Lynne Navarre at the ALEP2 group on FaceBook.

Nov 2: Market (Minas Tirith, Gondor)

“Pippin? Where did that lad say we’d find it? It’s almost time for Second Breakfast.” Sam frowned as he peered about the noisy plaza inside the damaged gates, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the number of Big Folk who were rushing about laden with packages, pushing carts, and even guiding livestock along the stone-paved streets.

“Butcher’s Row. It’s the first lane beyond that burned out inn.” Pippin tugged on his arm and dragged him along. “Over here, where the awnings are.”

Despite Sam’s protests, the beaming merchant refused to bargain over the side of bacon. “For the Ringbearer? No charge!”

Prompt: “Bacon, nice and crispy.” By Nancy Flynn at ALEP2: TABA group on Facebook. Although posted on Nov 3rd, this drabble was finished before Nov 2nd was over. :)

The salt-laden wind whipped his pale hair about his shoulders as he stared across the sea towards where his heart yearned to be.

Startled, he turned his head to briefly meet his companion’s sympathetic eyes, before looking out across the ocean once more. “I can’t help it. Every time I see one of the grey ships. . . .”

His wife moved to lean against his side, slipping an arm about his waist. “Legolas will come to Tol Eressea, Thranduil. You just need to have patience.”

A/N: Prompt: “Shoreline” by Alexandra-Felicity King at ALEP2: TABA group. It occurred to me that many fics write about Legolas sailing to the Undying Lands, leaving Thranduil behind in Eryn Lasgalen. But then I thought, what if Thranduil ended up sailing West himself, before Aragorn passes away, leaving Legolas behind in Ithilien?

“What’s that?” Eárlindë peered at the label on the open, straw-filled crate that rested on her sister-in-law’s kitchen table.

Serendilmë looked up from the letter she was reading and smiled. “It’s my begetting day gift from Atto and Ammë. They said that they hope I’ll find It useful.”

Eárlindë sniffed, folding her arms with disdain and secret jealousy as Serendilmë lifted a gracefully shaped silver frame that supported a luminous orb. It filled the room with its cool blue light. “What? Starlight and torchlight aren’t good enough for you?”

“Thinking was probably the last thing you were doing last night. The Yellow Perch?”

“’Twas too far to get to before closing time. Ow! Estella! What in Arda was that for?”

“I’ll do more than thwap you with a dish towel if you ever come home like this again, Meriodoc Brandybuck!”

Framléod shook his grizzled head as the men heaved the logs into place. “All right, now the next layer—no, boy! Lay them across the others, not like a mess of jack-straws!”

“What’s it matter, Grandad?” the youngest protested. “It’s not like it’s going to be used again. The war’s over!”

“This family’s manned the beacon on Halifirien for nigh on five generations, Fastred, and we’re not going to be the ones to break the chain when Gondor calls for help. No matter how long it is until it’s lit again!”

A/N: Prompt: The beacons by Hayley Mosteller from the ALEP2: TABA group on Facebook. In the Third Age, Gondor called on Rohan’s aid when they went to war against the Haradrim. Rohan answered the call, and sacrificed the lives of Folcred and Fastred, the twin sons and heirs of Folcwine-King (Theoden-King’s great grandfather) at the Battle of the Crossing of Poros. Tolkien never specifically said that the beacons were used for this particular conflict, so I’m taking artistic liberty to set my scene at that time and place.

Elessar stood on the balcony that overlooked South Ithilien and let his grey gaze roam over the richly coloured landscape that lay beyond Anduin. Oaks, beeches and elms had shed their summer green, making the many white towers that Faramir had built in Emyn Arnen stand out sharply in counterpoint. It was Elboron who reigned there now, gravely following in his father’s footsteps.

The king re-entered the throne room, coming to a halt before the white-clad body that lay in state before the White Throne. “I miss you, my Steward, ” he whispered, “my good and faithful servant. My friend.”

A/N: Prompt: “As I beheld the new towers built by Prince Faramir in Ithilien…” by Betty Bigelow at ALEP2: TABA group at Facebook

Faramir ducked behind a curtain as he recognized another oncoming matchmaker. He hadn’t expected to find Lady Eowyn hiding behind it as well, curled up on the window seat, gazing through the glass into the starlit evening.

“Hiding?” Eowyn suggested. “Me too. Please, sit down.” She patted the cushion next to her and smiled.

The Steward hesitantly settled by her side and inquired, “What—or who—are you hiding from?”

“My aggravating brother. I’m tired of listening to him worrying about things back home instead of celebrating Aragorn’s coronation.”

A/N: Prompts: “Eowyn!” by Eowyn Shieldmaiden at ALEP2: TABA group at Yahoo, and “Oh my. I’m tired!” by Gwynnyd from Garden of Ithilien Writer’s Forum

“You can see, my lord, that we chose the finest marble in which to portray the Captain-General.” The sculptor touched the statue’s arm. “And the pose represents his rallying the troops in Osgiliath before he left ten years ago.”

It certainly did look like his brother, Boromir, even to the heroic stance, sword arm uplifted in triumph.

But why had the artist carved the Horn of Gondor so large, and place it at such an—unfortunate—position? Faramir shook his head and searched for the words to tell the man diplomatically that the heirloom oughtn’t to double as a codpiece!

A/N: Prompt: “I lifted my hand to…” from Betty Bigelow at ALEP2: TABA group at Facebook

Tilion found Arien standing beneath the bare, ruined branches of Laurelin, gazing at the sky. Standing close beside her, he said, “It’s almost time. Are you ready?”

“Oh, yes!” She turned her burning gaze upon him. “I feel as if I have been waiting for this since we first entered the void to create Arda.”

As she thought herself to the vessel that had been created to house the golden tree’s last fruit, he waited on the Ezellohar, looking west.

When the golden light of Anar appeared, spreading across Valinor, he felt his love for her swell within his soul.

A/N: Prompt: “Dawn is the perfect way to end an evening” by Gwynnyd at the Garden of Ithilien Writer’s Forum. According to the Silmarillion, and other background works, the first Sunrise in Arda appeared in the West.

For three Novembers in a row widow Iris Boffin woke at dawn to see Peregrin Took’s wife on her knees in the Battle Gardens, clearing away weeds and dead leaves from around the memorial stone. The younger hobbit was always gone by the time Iris had drunk her breakfast tea, leaving behind a wreath of chrysanthamums and ivy on the engraved monument.

When the fourth anniversary came, Iris rose early and was waiting when Diamond arrived. “Why do you do this?” she demanded.

“Because,” Diamond touched Iris’ husband’s carved name on the stone, “my Pippin could have been honoured here.”

A/N: Prompt: “Noble” by Debbie McIntyre from the ALEP2: TABA group on Facebook

Barliman nervously eyed the fourteen men who were gathered in the private parlour. Rangers, every one of them--grim, determined, and dangerous--speaking softly as they pored over a map. For all that they didn’t startle when he’d opened the door, he could tell that they were well aware of him.

He cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, ‘tis nigh onto suppertime. Will you eat in here or join the crowd in the taproom?”

Their leader, who had introduced himself as Halbarad, cast him an appraising glance. “Here will do. And a pint of your best ale each would not go amiss.”

A/N: Prompt: “A pint! A pint!” by Jayne Doe from the ALEP2: TABA group on Facebook

Finrod handed the water skin to Beren after taking a quick drink himself. His other companions took advantage of the halt to refresh themselves, although it was really only the mortal who required rest.

“Thanks.” Beren took a measured swallow, then capped the vessel and handed it back. “How far have we come?”

“About nine leagues since dawn. “ The erstwhile King of Nargothrond motioned for Edrahil to set up camp for the night. “We should eat and then sleep before continuing on.”

A/N: Prompt: “A ponderous path” by Jef Murray from ALEP2: TABA group on Facebook

And so it was upon a drear day when the remnants of autumn flirted with winter, a messenger handed over the dispatch case bearing the King’s sigil, which Thain Faramir Took received with a sense of forboding. He discovered not one, but three letters inside; two addressed to him, and the third addressed to his cousin, the Master of Buckland. He knew that he should have read the letter from the King first, but his name written in the familiar, still-messy, hand of his father claimed a son’s attention.

A/N: Prompt: “And so it was” from Grey Wizard at ALEP2: TABA group on Facebook. Dedicated to the memory of my friend, Christopher Croughton, who was killed last week in a head-on collision road accident in England. May you find peace beyond the circles of the world.

* The Tale of Years does not give a specific death date for Meriodoc Brandybuck; only stating that he died sometime after 4th Age 63, which was when he was known to have been in Rohan before Eomer-King died, and that he lived his remaining years in Minas Tirith before being laid to rest in the Rath Dinen among the great of Gondor. The date I’ve given this drabble was selected arbitrarily to allow Merry a handful of good years with Elessar, Arwen, and their children, before falling into his final sleep. Pippin, in my imagination, lives, perhaps, another decade before joining Merry.

And so it was that I found him, when we came to bear Merry to the Rath Dinen. I thought at first he was sleeping, his head upon his arm, their hands clasped on the pall.

I have laid them together in the House of Kings, clothed not only in their regalia as lords of Rohan and Gondor, but also with my love.

A/N: Prompt: "And so it was" by Grey Wizard of the ALEP2: TABA group on Facebook. I could not send one without the other. There will be one more drabble to accompany this and Lamentable Tidings.

The knocks on his study door finally penetrated Faramir’s grief, and the Thain cleared his throat and called out, “Come in!” while he groped for his pocket handkerchief.

“Farry, I heard a messenger from Gondor came?” The visiting Master of Buckland peered around the edge of the door. “Was there anything from Dad?”

Faramir looked down at the remaining letter, which had clearly been written by Merry--the address blurred as more tears welled up--and handed it to him, along with Pippin’s and the King’s missives.

A/N: Prompt: "And so it was" by Grey Wizard from the ALEP2: TABA group on Facebook. Although this drabble does not use the words of the prompt, it was directly inspired by it as the third part of the Lamentable Tidings triptych. I realized that there would have been no reason for Merry's letter to his son to have been included in the dispatches meant for the Thain, unless the messenger arrived at Brandy Hall to discover that the Master was visiting family in The Great Smials.

“Do you know what this is?” Bilbo indicated the dirt lane that cut through the rolling hills of the Westfarthing.

“It’s a road. It goes toward Michael Delving.” Young Frodo waved his hand towards the west.

"Nay, lad. It goes much further west than that--all the way to the Sea, where the Elves go; and if you walk east far enough, it can take you beyond the Edge of the Wild and over the Misty Mountains to the lands beyond.”

Frodo looked first east, then west, doubtfully. “I don’t know that I’d like to travel that far from home.”

A/N: Prompt: “Long lane” by Barbara Holbrook from the ALEP2: TABA group on Facebook. In The Fellowship of the Ring, Bilbo remarks to Gandalf that Frodo isn't ready to leave the Shire. This drabble stems from that remark and Barbara's prompt.

*I could not find a specific canon year when Frodo went to live with Bilbo full time, but I assume that he would have had occasional visits with him during his teens before he was adopted.

Frodo stared in disbelief as the dishes kept coming to the table. He’d only wanted to stop in at the pub for a light snack before making his way up to their guesthouse up on the Sixth level of the city.

He shot a glare at Pippin, who was snickering behind his own pint, and tried, once again, to waylay the innkeeper. “Truly, sir, this is more than enough food for all of us—“

As a serving girl arrived with yet another plate of cheese layered between thick slices of bread, he sighed. “I only said I liked cheese.”

A/N: Prompt: But I only said I liked cheese” by Judy Cole Mitchell from ALEP2: TABA on Facebook.

Bilbo eyed the mess in his front parlour with a sigh, and began to restore the room to rights. “I guess it wasn’t a dream after all.”

Humming, he returned the chairs that had been taken from the kitchen, study, and dining room to their proper places in the hole. A broom and duster removed all evidence of footprints and ash, and opening the window to the breeze pushed out the dregs of pipe smoke from the night before.

Only when he saw Gandalf at his door, he realized with dread that he’d been humming the dwarves’ song.

A/N: Prompt: (Indirectly) “Oh, crap!” by Jo Lynne Navarre from ALEP2: TABA group on Facebook. The muse decided to ignore my prompt list for this one, but after it was done, I realized that it does hearken back to the prompt I used for the very first 2011 NaQuaWriMo drabble.

Pippin slurped the foam from the top of his pint. “People are saying that Faramir proposed to Eowyn at the same time as when the Ring got destroyed. Is that true?”

“They were standing together on the wall of the gardens of the Houses of Healing. I don’t know when he proposed. You were under a troll at the time,” Merry retorted, his hands wrapped around his own mug.

Merry flushed. “Er, in the kitchens, hiding from Ioreth, and arguing with the cooks about how many mushroom pies are required to truly satisfy a hobbit’s appetite.”

A/N: Prompt: “Where were you when the Eye of Sauron was extinguished” by Betty Bigelow from ALEP2: TABA group on Facebook. A recent re-read of parts of RETURN OF THE KING reminded me that we were not told just where Merry was or what he was doing when the Ring went into Mount Doom.

Thirty Drabbles Hath November 2011 by Rhyselle