Duinelleth: Horses and Goodbyes

Duinelleth rubbed her eyes slowly, grunting at the already midday sun shining onto her. She couldn’t believe that she rested so long! Lady Celev – the Master was right in forcing her to promise she would rest instead of studying further. She felt better than she had in days.. maybe these humans were on to something with their style of bed. Sitting up and righting the tunic that has shifted in her slumber, another yawn forced its way out; a stretch that felt entirely too good accompanied it, making waking up a truly good experience. There wasn’t much better than waking up to the sun after a restful night. Not bothering to comb her hair, she just pulled it back and twisted it at the base of her neck to keep it in place. She bounded up and then trotted down the stairs. Time to feed Rîn!

Opening the door and squinting into the bright white of an unseen day, she grinned and bounced down into the grass. Scrunching with her toes, her arms spread wide and she spun around with joy. Such a beautiful day, full of possibility and wonder! After taking another long moment to stand in place and soak up as much of that wonderful sun as possible, Duinelleth made her way to the chestnut horse. He was a good beast, a kind beast. They were great friends, as all horses and horse-owners should be.

Her soft and heavily accented Sindarin floated on the air. “Rîn, my friend. I’m sorry I wasn’t out here sooner. I slept much too late, but I did need it.” She pet the horse quietly, reaching with her other hand for a handful of grains. As she slowly fed him, her mind wandered to the dream she had last night – a dream of a memory.

But surely you’ll want to take Hissael with you! He’s your horse.”

Lamaenon laughed brightly; she could tell he was trying to hide his sorrow. “My sweet Duinelleth, there is no where I would rather my close friend and horse be, than with my heart.”

A sad but determined smile broke across her face, and she reached up to caress his cheek. “I will be no more than five years, my dearest one. I promise. Even if I haven’t found some way to help, I will make my way to you. Nothing will stop me from finding passage once that time has come.”

I have your promise, then?”

You have my promise, my heart, and all my love. In five years time at the utmost, I’ll be boarding a ship that will carry me to you.”

That promise brought a true smile to her betrothed’s lips, and he turned his head to kiss her hand where it lay. “I will wait for you, then. But please, please.. take Hissael. He’ll be a help, and a companion for you. I know it.”

Duinelleth nodded quietly. “I will. But he will be renamed, for now. Until we return to you. I will call him Rîn, for until we see you again, we will constantly be remembering you. Now go, go.. don’t hold up the voyage on my account.”

He pulled her into his arms, determined to properly kiss her goodbye – regardless of who saw them.

Sighing and wiping away the tears that memory brought her, she opened her eyes to look Rîn in the eye. “We still remember, do we not?” A sad smile met the horse’s nose as she gave him a small peck. “It’s only been a few months, but that’s already a few months closer, no?” She lugged a large hunk of hay over for her beloved steed to feast upon, and patted him one last time. Duinelleth headed back toward the house, slowly; still caught up in memories of their goodbye.

I’ll never forget.

RP Prompts: At Rest

((The lovely and ever-talented Laenlis has inspired me to write of my characters resting on a cool autumn evening. It’s short, but it gives more glimpses into everyone. Plus, YAY WRITING!!))

The wind blew through a few cracks in the wall, making its way to the bed. Tegil pulled the covers up further, silently cursing himself for choosing the cooler months to travel north. It was an odd sensation, having his nose be cold but his body warm and snug. Every once in a while, he’d tuck his head under to keep it warm, but he’d quickly have to poke back out. Air was a rather important part of living.

His eyes darted around the room quietly, once again taking it all in. This was an oddly named tavern, The Prancing Pony. Seemed everyone around here called it the Pony. You’d think they’d get confused with regular ponies or some sort. At least the ale was tolerable, even if the food wasn’t. His thoughts were quickly interrupted with a rather heavy yawn. One that required his whole attention. Snuggling further under the blanket, he hoped it’d warm up soon.


Duinelleth flipped through yet more books, making notes in Sindarin on the piles of parchment that surrounded her. For a young Elf, she looked rather tired; actual bags were under her eyes. She hadn’t rested in days, but the books that Lady Celeve – er, the Master had sent to her were incredibly fascinating. She couldn’t believe the things she was learning about the fea. Why did her teachers not trust her with this? She could handle it. Fascinating, fascinating, fascinating! Stumbling across a particularly interesting chapter, she made herself yet another false promise: After this one, I’ll take a rest.


Eyes slid open quietly, lazily. Lori looked around, brow furrowed in confusion. How did she get – snore. An involuntary smile blossomed and she twisted around to face a bare shoulder highlighted by the moonlight. Tarlanc must have carried her to bed from her study. Not surprisingly, she fell asleep again. Working on Gislaf’s table was really fun work, since it didn’t have to be done for quite some time, and because it was for a friend.

Her smile was interrupted by a small yawn, and then slowly reappeared with a sleepy lilt to it. Shifting herself closer to her newly betrothed, she tucked her arm under his, holding him close. A final kiss to his shoulder and the murmuring of affection into an ear that most likely didn’t hear her through its slumber, and Loriwen drifted off immediately.

Letters to Edoras: Hello!

October 23, 2010

Grandmother Eadgifa and Uncle Thurwald,

First, I just want to say something to whoever is reading you this letter. It means a lot to be able to communicate with family so long lost to me, so thank you. Thank you so much.

I suppose I should start out with the most important news of all. I’ve become betrothed! To Tarlanc, of course; the man Thurwald met while here. It’s rather exciting. We think we’ll make a small, private affair of it: just someone to speak the words and a friend for a witness, if one is needed. I can never remember if one is needed or not. Anyway, yes; it will be small and simple. I’ve always thought it was rather sweet to hear of those couples who ran off to be together, but it seems running off looks rather suspect given our age. Ah, well! As I said, it’s really quite exciting. It seems much too soon by the older standards of the area, but to me, it seems as if it can’t be soon enough. I’m so very, very happy. I hope you know that.

All is very, very well here, as I said above. I’ve finished a rather large woodworking project, and the pay from that is going to keep me rather comfortable throughout the winter here. We’re even speaking of taking a trip somewhere afterward.

It’s odd writing to you, I’m really not sure what to write beside that! Fall is real nice here, the leaves are starting to fall off, making beautiful orange, red and yellow piles everywhere. I’ve been thinking about making a real big pile and jumping in it. That sounds a bit silly coming from a grown woman, I’ll bet! In more domestic news, I’m going to meet with Cara, Tarlanc’s young niece soon. She’s going to try and teach me how to bake a Gondor treat, a bread with cheese in it. That will be a fun day, as she is a truly sweet young girl. Her husband was killed last year, sadly, but she does have an adorably chubby little baby girl named Civrennil. The two of them are a delight to visit, and I’m glad we’ll have some time to get to know each other.

I hope to get to know you better, too. After all, you are kin! Kin unlooked-for, but far from unwelcome. It’s a great relief to know of my mother’s family, and of my mother. How are my cousins, and how about my aunt? Are you all doing alright? I wonder about the winter down in Edoras. Is it very cold? Do you see snow close by, or is it only far away on mountains? I wonder if there are any traditions. Here, we exchange small gifts and mull cider. Treats are eaten, as well. The traditions come from the Hobbits nearby, lovely little folk with a great love for food and drink. I love their Yule traditions, and we around the smaller towns have adopted them ourselves. Please, write back (thank you again, for reading and writing for them) and tell me of your customs. I would dearly love to hear more of everything you would like to tell me.

I look forward to hearing from you, and…thank you for finding me. It filled a long-standing void to know of you and that part of my past that was lost.

Loriwen Snowberry

RP Prompts: Different Paths

The ever-amazing Pumyra has given us an RP prompt this week that really got my creative juices flowing. Thank you! I’ll be introducing some new faces, in addition to everyone’s favorite hypocrite (Lori). I took the slightly alternate route of “what if a key decision in their life ended up being the opposite choice?”

Imagine what your character might have been had they not ended up in their current occupation. Write a story about what they might be like.


Tegil laughed loudly, his light and musical laughter bouncing across the hall. His gaze swept across his betrothed, studying her beautiful face as she tried to balance the board on her head. Every time she shifted position, another perfect muscle moved and he felt the need to re-memorize it. A perpetually stupid grin graced his face, even as she finally gave up and ripped the blindfold off. Her grey eyes narrowed as she stuck her hands on her hips.

Tegil, what are you leering at?”

Needing no more a prompt than that, he quickly hopped up and floated over to her, gracefully dipping her without warning. He poked her nose with his own, grinning still. “Oh, just the most beautiful young woman in this whole city.”

Her face softened in just the way he loved, her lovely lips curving into a private smile. “Flatterer.”

I speak only the truth, my love.” He dipped his head to kiss her softly.

Their wedding couldn’t come fast enough.

(Tegil decided to not ask his childhood friend to marry him, instead following the beat of his own drum and heading into the world to write poems and stories. He doesn’t regret his decision in even the slightest, but it will always be a happy “what if?” in his mind.)


Duinelleth danced along the white shores of the Undying Lands, laughing happily. It was truly beautiful here – beautiful, and peaceful. Plopping gracefully into the sand, she ran her fingers through it and made an intricate pattern of leaves. A splash of water startled her and ruined the design. She gasped and looked up, only to immediately break into more laughter. Her husband waved with a mischievous glint in his eye, then comically made a big show of hiding the bucket he had in his hand.

Lamaenon, how dare you ruin my sand drawings!”

Ah, heart of my heart, it’s just sand. We can draw over here, instead.” He sat down, tossing the bucket to the side and beckoning to her.

Standing up and rushing over to sit on him instead of next to him, she grinned. “I suppose this is fine, too.”

Ah, how I agree. Isn’t it a lovely morning? This sunrise is particularly bright.” They both looked to the east with a soft sigh of appreciation. He rested his head on her shoulder, and she quickly rested her head upon his.

You know, I think I’ll always regret not staying – just a little.”

He tightened his grip on Duinelleth, not jealously, but protectively. “I understand…to not stay and help, it’s not in your nature. Although, I must confess…I am glad you came with us, melethril. To have you safe is my greatest wish.”

She smiled and relaxed as he pulled her closer. “I would have regretted leaving you all the more, love.”

(Duinelleth did decide to stay and help the younger races against the Shadow. Although young, she is convinced that her knowledge of mending a broken body will help turn the tide. Her betrothed sailed to Valinor, and they promised each other they would wed on the white shores once she felt at peace with departing.)


Loriwen smoothed down her thin dress, sighing as her hair pulled out of its bun again – it never stayed in place. Grabbing the large wooden spoon and stirring the pot, she ran her fingers along the handle of the spoon instead of paying attention to dinner. The wood was well-carved, smooth despite the grains shining through in the firelight. It was the kind of work she used to do in secret, before she became with child. Once that happened, Aric made sure someone was always around her, in case she needed something. Needed something? Pah. It was one of the easiest and simplest pregnancies she had ever seen. She wasn’t a porcelain doll that would crack under pressure. So she was a bit clumsy, she wasn’t going to fall off a roof – or even be on one in the first place! Her grip tightening on the wooden spoon reminded her of where she was, her eyes focusing once again upon it. She wiped it on her apron and sat down to work on her mending.

She hated menial chores so much. Sewing, cleaning, cooking; that’s all she ever did. The perfect farm wife if there ever was one. Aric wasn’t a bad man, just boring and stubborn. A farmer, just like her father and his father, and his father before him. It’s not proper for a wife to help make the living. She can work in the family’s garden and raise the children. The men work to support everyone else. Tears began to form in her eyes as she peered into her sewing box…she held it in her lap, caressing it. She could imagine carving this box, herself. A simple notch there, a long and bold stroke there. Simple nails into the hinge here, and –

The door slammed open and three children bounded inside, one after the other noisily. Loriwen stood up quickly and wiped her eyes before turning around with a bright smile. Even if she cried herself to sleep some nights while wishing she could just run away, even if she did feel more and more trapped in this farming village every single day, she did love her children. She would do anything for them, including stay in a dreadfully dull and unhappy marriage.

What’s for dinner, ma? Oh, is it stew? What kinda meat did’ya get?!”

Loriwen winced and rushed over to keep her youngest – only six – from falling into the fire as he peered into the stew pot. He was just like his mother, often unsteady on his feet. “Now now, Ryley, you stay away from the fire, you hear me? …And it’s your favorite, hare.” Her heart lightened a bit as she watched his dark brown eyes widen with joy. She mussed his hair and patted him off to wash with his older brother and sister. She sighed, alone again; if only for the few moments before Aric clomped inside to ask how her day went. Her answer would always be the same: “oh, the usual.”

Gods, she hated the usual.

(Aric proposed a courtship to her shortly after her father died, assuming she would want the companionship and need the support of a man. In reality, Loriwen ended up turning down his well-meant but boring offer, instead deciding to head off to the Shire for a year. She is independent, living on her own, and allowed to carve whenever she desires. She is – as of now – unwed, but is secretly harboring impatient hopes that her beloved will pop the proverbial question.)