OOC…Or is it?!: Sudden Changes

Tegil, still silently suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, has run away with the equally smitten Willow. The impetuous 19 year olds are on the hideout from almost everyone: Ceswyn, who Tegil has left abandoned and apparently pregnant through divine intervention; Ceswyn’s family, who will probably kill him despite this “miracle” not being his fault; and Cragg, who so wants them both dead on principal alone. They are hiding out – shhhhh! – in the Shire. They may already be married, no one is certain.



My love, I’m so sorry for being a fool this past near-year. I am going to give up wood carving completely, sell the house and workshop, and we’re going to move back to my family’s farmhouse. We’re going to have as many children as we physically can, and then adopt a few Hobbits. I’m already learning how to cook! Also, please take this bundle of pants to the jail for Arion to pass out to the less fortunate; I’m only wearing dresses now. And I’ll never speak again unless spoken to. I apologize for not being a better wife sooner.




In Korre’s now-permanent absence due to elopement, Leuedai has taken upon herself those duties left behind. Her lack of reading and writing was apparently a ruse: Leuedai is actually Rohan’s first fully fluent scholar. She speaks eight languages, including two variants of the ever-controversial Quenya, and is most concerned with the industrialization of the world as a whole. In fact, her thesis – written on fifty handmade parchments with homemade chalk – was on steam power and how the War could be won using it. She has also taken a new vow of celibacy and has become a teetotaler: she cannot let such distractions get in the way of her duties.


Skyrah has taken up a new profession: lumberjack. She may be spindly, but her height helps with chopping down branches! While spending her nights at a campfire for a reason unbeknownst to all but two people, she has been doing pushups and other various strength-building exercises. She’s taken up with the Combe Lumber Yard, much to the chagrin of her family (who lives in Combe and disowned her). Overalls are now her favorite clothing, because of the convenient pockets.

Musical Representations

This is entirely her fault. Oh, and I make no apologies for the fact that this damn well may end up all the same artist. Their lyricist is a god among poets, horrible English aside.


In total honesty… it’s truly Tegil’s fault. I didn’t even consider doing a post…until I was listening to my play list when this rarely played song came on random. I almost cried. It’s perfect. Lyrics are subtitles, so I apologize if they’re not too readable. I felt the song deserved a higher quality of sound over readability. You can find them here as well.


Song speaks for itself, I think. Lyrics here, if you would like to read them more easily.


This song perfectly explains how she feels about herself in relation to chillins. Just wonderful. Nice song, too!


Some of the imagery in here really spoke to me. Particularly the wolf and lamb part. Lyrics, if necessary.

Before Dreams Take Me

We all think before we drift off to sleep, and often we’ll tally lists or think about our day. Every thought here is unlabeled, and not prefaced. Enjoy this tiny snippet into everyone’s innermost consciousness.


Please let me sleep tonight…


What am I doing?


Tomorrow. I’ll start tomorrow, I promise.


I have never wanted to break a promise so badly in my life.


…They’re not bad people.

Unexpected Conversations: Part Two

Once again, entirely her fault! Part two of what will probably be three. Maybe four, if this last part gets long. This is technically one scene, three characters. I pulled Lempi for one scene, then Tuija immediately after. Given the scenario, it made sense to just mesh them. 🙂


Every day, it seemed to be easier to wake up. Every night, it was even harder to go to sleep. Where was Sky? Was she all right? Did she need help? Was she alive? No mother should have to worry about where her daughter was. But here she was, trudging along in Bree-town, eyes constantly scanning for that familiar tall girl. Finally giving up her vigil for the day, Farra walked into the Mess Hall to warm up before heading out. Maybe even ale today; she was in that foul a mood. She sat down with a groan and signaled the person at the bar to bring her a drink.

A young woman, mid 20s most likely, sat across from her and began to carefully unpack a lunch. This would be a fairly normal sight in the Mess Hall, if the woman wasn’t so…foreign. Pale skin, rich blue-brown eyes, a whole lot of black hair piled on her head, wearing a furred tunic; she screamed “not from around here!” Farra stared for only a moment before being distracted by the bartender. A mug of ale plopped in front of her and she handed over the copper to pay for it with a start.

The out of towner kept her eyes politely averted and on her food. Farra was just about to ignore her in return when a sound erupted from the woman’s bag. At least, she thought it was a bag until the woman twisted it and pulled a baby from it. Now that was a handy little idea! She quickly looked down to her food, only looking up after another few minutes of silent eating. The baby gurgled away happily, chewing on what sounded like bread. On the upward tilt of her head, that was confirmed. A sudden wave of pain swept over her features. That was a baby girl.


She wasn’t thirsty anymore. She shoved the ale away and got up quietly with a polite nod to the woman and child. Maybe she could make it all the way home before crying this time…


Tuija was used to people getting up and leaving when she sat down, but that woman was different. She could almost feel the sorrow emanating from the stranger as a glance was swept down to Lempi before her hasty retreat. Whatever her pain was, the Lossoth woman hoped the Bree-land woman would be comforted somehow. Lempi whined and a small water skin was pulled to quiet her daughter; that worked, silent suckling replacing the noise.

Another woman sat down, this one much more relaxed and open. They seemed to recognize each other as outsiders almost immediately: long blonde hair nodded politely to coiled black. The blonde woman opened a pack with apple, cheese and bread, starting up a small conversation. “Cute baby, there.” She shined the apple on her sleeve and took a crunchy bite.

Tuija nodded politely as Lempi stared openly at the hair. She was no doubt chewing on it instead of her water skin in her mind. “Thanks to you.” She continued to quietly eat her own food, left over roast meat and pickled carrots.

Both women were quite content to leave it as that; they ate in silence, Tuija leaving first when Lempi began to fuss. Maybe she needed a change. Didn’t smell like it, but Leuedai wasn’t exactly an expert on children of any age.

The younger woman turned to watch with a curious gaze as the two departed. That was quite an accent, and her tunic was constructed in a way Leue had never seen before. She idly wondered where the woman was from as another glug of ale made its way down her throat.

Unexpected Conversations: Part One

Entirely her fault. Also, expect more. I’m posting them in waves so you don’t have like… ten at once. They’re a bit longer than most people’s, as per my usual. I just can’t stop writing once I start!


As she stepped out and to the side, she was blindsided by a yellow so bright it almost glowed. It was possibly the most hideous yellow Skyrah had ever seen in her life! In fact…the man was bright all over. Red robes – she’d call them crimson, really – covered by green scarf and gloves, topped with that…thing. He stopped and gave her a short if cordial bow. “Apologies for being in your way, miss.”

Skyrah just blinked. “Uh.. s’arigh’.” He looked up and peered curiously at the bag on her back. She explained sheepishly, “I’m, uh, th’ person bringin’ all th’ candles ‘round lately. Make ‘em an’.. uh… stuff.” Her voice trailed off as she ran out of words. He looked surprisingly delighted at such a basic service.

“Ah! I have seen many using your candles. They are most well-crafted, miss. I assume you do not have any extras upon you, so wanted your craft has become.” He let his sentence drift, the obvious question hanging between bright red-and-yellow and dark brown-and-green figures.

She nodded. “Y-… uh, yeah. I, uh, d’ya want one?” His dialect was weird; it threw her off more than usual. At least he wasn’t making fun of her accent or anything, it was a start. She easily pulled a candle from her bag and was relieved when it was one of the nicer ones. Blind luck saved her again; this guy was kind of fancy, he’d probably appreciate one with swirls of color more than a plain candle.

His eyes proved her quite correct, but not how she expected. He blinked and for a split second – she wasn’t even sure it actually happened – his face softened from its polite mask into a quieter, happier look. It was quickly smoothed away as he looked down to pull a coin from his robe to hand to her. “Thank you, it is a perfect candle for my writing, such as it is.” A polite smile and nod of the head in her direction.

Skyrah nodded awkwardly, not even willing to protest they weren’t a whole silver as she handed him the candle in exchange. She had slowly begun to realize fancier people like this usually didn’t want to deal in copper. Maybe they just didn’t carry them, who knows. As she walked away, leaving the vividly colored man with his candle, she was distracted by a single question. Her curiosity nagged at her, but she would not retreat to ask. She’d never ask him if she ever saw him again, either! But she still wondered: what was so special about a candle with bright blue color in it?


A head bobbed down the main street of Combe. Golden hair shone in the afternoon sun, the warm rays almost seeming to wash out all color. Apple green eyes peered around and finally spotted a young Man sweeping some dirt off a stoop. Such a young little boy, especially compared to her people! She quietly approached, hands clasped gently in front of her. Her grammar in Westron was still quite inadquate, but she had begun to understand more in her travels here. “Excuse me, you do know way to the Shire?”

He looked up, startled; his eyes went from sad to wide in a heartbeat. “Wh- y-.. yer… it.. a… yer.. yer ears an’…”

This is something she had acclimated to. Her head bowed politely to him, golden hair falling to cover her ears. “I am Duinelleth. I am sorry for interrupting your works.”

The boy looked around nervously, brown eyes beneath an equally plain brown mop of wavy hair scanning for something – or someone. He seemed to be mollified and took a half step closer. “Dy’a.. yer goin’ to th’ Shire?”

She nodded quietly. “Yes. I am to go home now. I know Shire is on way to home.”

He looked around one more time – so skittish, for a child! – and looked up to her nervously. “C’n ya look fer ma sist’r, iffen y’ see ‘er? She’s gone ‘way an’ I dunno where she gone off ta. She’s gotta be.. goin’ home, too. Comin’ back here.”

A rather odd request! A sincere one, if his worried frown was any indicator. “I…yes. Perhaps she become lost, if I find I will give her message of welcoming. How is she looking?”

The short young boy pointed to the sky. “She be real tall. Mebbe even yer height, she got brown hair an’ eyes jus’ like me.” His hand flew down to yank a lock of dirty hair and point to his eyes. “Real skinny like, like.. like me. An’ uh, she’s gotta scarf she don’ take off none. S’ brown.” His eyes went wide in realization. “Oh! An’ uh, th’ Shire’s.. ya gotta go int’ town over there,” he pointed behind her to the main town of Bree’s gate, “an’ then git goin’ over t’ th’ West. Ya follow th’ road to a bridge right proper.”

Filing the description away – that could be any number of humans, not that she’d tell the boy that!! – she bowed her head. The directions sounded much more promising. “I thank you, young sir. I now leave, and tell your sister if I am to be finding her.”

“M’ name’s Ridgley, iffen yer findin’ ‘er. Thank ya, Miss Elf Lady.” He stood awkwardly as she gracefully glided out of existence. His first Elf, and what does he do? Ask her to look for Sky! Sky? Gah! He never told her his sister’s name! Ridgley sighed to himself and went back to carefully sweeping the stoop. Idiot.

What Lurks Beneath the Unspoken

New prompt! Oddly enough, the name was inspired by a line in RP that I typed out tonight (okay, it is the line). I was struck by it, and I may elucidate further on that in another post. Anyway, the meme is called “What Lurks Beneath the Unspoken.” While we all have relatively verbose characters (most of them, anyway) they still have layers of depth to both their personalities and what they say – or in this case, what they don’t say. This is a short exercise in the second of those. I’m taking a line each of my characters have said recently, and then in italics below, pointing out the unspoken subtext.


“Be careful.”
You know I’m not going to sleep half the time until you’re back in my arms.


“I’m jus’ tired. I’m fine. How’s yer apple boy?”
You and I both know I’m wearing myself into the ground, but I have proof. You’ve seen it. I can’t give up now.


“Everything will be all right.”
It will, for you. I’m withering but I will linger for you. Please find happiness.


“Good night.”
A stolen kiss or two will sustain us both for now. For now.


“I hate that cheese.”
We both know Butterbur began replacing the cheddar with Bree-brie within the first week of his noting I was giving it away.


The servers are still down and I’m itching for some creative stuff. Another installment of “Questions” for you all! We all think before we drift off to sleep, and often we’ll tally lists or think about our day. Every question here is unlabeled, and not prefaced. Enjoy this tiny snippet into everyone’s innermost consciousness.


I do love work. How can I ever give that up?


It’s worth it. Right? What if I get hurt?


Why did I come out here again? This is less and less something I want.


Have I found my primrose?


Will anyone ever be able to replace you? Do I really want to find someone who would?