Drabbles for the Winter Festival 2008 Drabble Swap
|Author's notes:||These 100 word drabbles were written for the Mereth Rhiw Winter Festival at Little Balrog, as a secret Santa gift for Smaug. All rated G to PG. Many thanks to Erfan Starled for the beta job. Also check out what Tena wrote for me!|
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A cup for mulled wine
Summary: Why Bilbo chose to steal a heavy cup from Smaug’s hoard, rather than any of the priceless jewels that would easily have fit into his pocket.
Request: Smaug, Gandalf, Bilbo, mulled wine, wintry, the Shire
Courage waning, Bilbo peeped into the vast dwarf-hall under the Mountain’s root. Smaug, purring in his sleep while wisps of smoke rose from his nostrils, filled Bilbo’s little hobbit-heart with fear and he wished again that the wizard would return. He missed his cosy hobbit-hole in the Shire, where the season of mulled wine in the company of friends under a wintry landscape drew near. There would be roast chestnuts by the fire – a wholesome fire, not the dragon’s horrible red glow – and raisin cake. Courage renewed, he reached for the treasure that suited his heart – an enormous two-handled cup.
Hope in the twilight-hour
Summary: Strider, weathering a blizzard in the wilderness, harbours black thoughts.
Request: Strider, Aragorn & Arwen, blizzard, black, travelling, Rivendell
What was he doing, travelling on his own with this cursed sword when he had a home in Rivendell?! Strider’s grim expression suddenly softened. Narsil was his pledge for another life. Kingship he would not yearn for, had it not been intimately bound to his heart’s truest desire, Lady Arwen. Thoughts of her was what sustained him, precious memories of their evening on Cerin Amroth, walking barefoot in the grass he would have tumbled with her in, had she been anyone but Lord Elrond’s daughter. His battle-calloused fingertips recalled the softness of her skin as he tenderly stroked his sword.
Summary: Galadriel chooses the right moment to make plans for the winter.
Request: adventurous, Celeborn & Galadriel, Rivendell
“I want to see snow again,” Galadriel said, distant despite pleasure shared. Celeborn took her hand and kissed it.
“I promised you would never have to... fortunately Nenya is keeping that promise for me.”
“Celebrían tells me the little ones have so much fun. Childhood is brief. Let us enjoy it together with them.”
“Winter in Imladris does not strike me as particularly enjoyable.”
“Snow elves? Snowball-fights? Adventurous races down slopes? Ice-skating on the river, with you?”
“We travel tomorrow, then. Now, will you come back to bed?”
She smiled seductively. “Show me the light of Telperion, my Silver Tree.”
Re-forging the blade that was broken
Summary: Aragorn discusses his sword with one of the smiths who re-forged it.
Request: bastard sword
“Some would call it a mongrel, this Andúril of yours.” The Elvish smith examined his work with a critical eye. Despite his mastery, and the powerful runes traced on the blade, even a novice would be able to tell where new metal had been used to weld together the original pieces.
Aragorn chuckled grimly. “Some would say the same about its master. Few expect to find a future king in the guise of a weather-beaten Ranger.”
“Few expect a broken blade to be re-forged, however noble its heritage. Here, take it. Wield your bastard sword with pride, King of Men.”
Posted: January 3, 2009
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"Long live Thranduil, great Elf-king of Greenwood!"