2019 Summer Solstice Drabbles by Ismene

A Hunt in a Garden

Prompt: garden, creature, command, woodcraft

Read A Hunt in a Garden

The creature sulked off into the brush, muttering to himself. “Sméagol gets food for hungry hobbits. Nice hobbits, nassty hobbits. Master’s friend commands it, Sméagol gets it. Nassty master’s friend.”

Presently, he wandered into what might have once been a great garden, with only the ruins left, watching, tragically frozen in time like a shattered window to the past. In the center, a great statue stood, probably of some hero, although it was difficult to say on account of the loss of the statue’s head. It was clear the maker had been a master of woodcraft, for what remained was far more intricate than any wooden carving outside of the realm of Thranduil.

Of course, Gollum could not care less. “Rabbits!” he cried, “nice little rabbits. Yes, precious, these will do nicely.”

The Beginning of the Beginning of an Adventure

Prompt: alcohol, groups, elimination, bond

(My first drabble, and I haven't used all the words, but I'd still like to share!)

Read The Beginning of the Beginning of an Adventure

“Give us ano’er one, Barl’man,” called a small group of men in the corner of the Prancing Pony, their speech slurred from one too many a drink already. “Fill ‘er up!”

Butterbur turned around behind the counter of his bar, and poked Nob, telling him to go to them and deny them any more alcohol. He had other people he wished to speak to. “Yer sure ye can’t tell me where yer headed? Off on another matter of ‘mysterious business,’ mister wizard?”

“That would be correct. Matters aren’t pressing me for time at the moment, so I’d like to stay a night here, if you’d allow, kindly.”

“Of course, the Pony’s always open for ye, Gandalf, whene’er ye might need it.” Just then, the little bell by the door jingled, to let Butterbur know he had a new customer. “I’ll get that, if ye don’t mind, Gandalf.”

He headed to the door to take the coat of the newcomer. The stranger was short, but when he turned round, he had a beard! A dwarf! Butterbur laughed. “What’s yer name, sir, that ye should be all the way here in Bree? What’re ye doing, if ye don’t mind my asking?”

The dwarf looked up at him. “My name is Thorin Oakenshield, and that," he continued, with a stony glare, "is none of your business.”

Aftermath

Prompt: black, evidence, home, brother

NOTE: this one mentions the deaths of some characters, so if you'd rather not read something sad, don't read this one.

Read Aftermath

The black, charred remains of many a warrior lay fallen on the battlefield by the Lonely Mountain. Ash choked the air, and never before in the memories of the soldiers who fought there did a victory feel more like a loss.

Dwalin walked among the bodies, his once-home (perhaps it might become so again, with much toil?) trying to identify anyone he might have known, heart leaping to his throat with each new fallen warrior, desperately hoping for him to be a stranger. Then he stopped. Almost beyond recognition, two dwarves lay near each other, their swords and cloaks the sealing evidence of their identities: Fili, and Kili. A salty, ashy tear fell down his face. Brothers from beginning to end, they fell together, beside their leader. He knelt beside them, all three of them, and wept.

Hungover

Prompt: afternoon, old, midnight, temperature

This one contains very mild sexual content.

Read Hungover

Elvariel opened her eyes, blinking in the saturated light of the afternoon sun streaming through her window. A pounding headache assaulted her, along with a wave of dizziness.

Elven draughts aren’t made for men’s stomachs, she supposed, with sluggish thought in remembrance of last night’s activities. She had journeyed from Esgaroth with a few companions to join King Thranduil’s court for a few nights of feasting and merriment, and feasting and merriment they had, like kings of old, well beyond the stroke of midnight.

She remembered the silver wine, like an ambrosia of the mortal world, and following one of the king’s guards into his chambers. She remembered her temperature rising as his broad shoulders and muscular frame encompassed her, undoing the clasps that held her dress in place, and then….

Her mind spun in circles trying to remember how she was returned to her own chambers, but alas, she could not. Fighting off another headache, she turned over and closed her eyes again, drifting off into another dreamless sleep.

Springtime

Prompt: spring, passion, betrayal, body

This one contains mild sexual content.

Read Springtime

Lothlórien was beautiful in the spring. Galadriel gazed out of her chamber balcony at the mallorn trees, music dancing through the air and lights hanging from the trees like a kaleidoscope of suspended fireflies as the sun fell below the horizon.

She was distracted from the view when a pair of strong arms encircled her waist from behind and a hungry mouth kissed her collarbone passionately. "My love, not here, not in front of the entire kingdom!"

Celeborn growled under his breath, smiling. "Then come away from the balcony, dearest." He held her wrist gently and led her back into the bedroom, to the bed, before placing his hands on her hips and pressing her backwards onto the bed, and gently climbing on top of her, staring into her eyes with a wanton gaze.

Galadriel murmured a quiet protest about the next day's events, saying, "Celeborn, not now, come morning we must go to the ---- ohhh." Celeborn began kissing her neck again feverishly, letting her body betray her and forget whatever the next day was going to bring. All that was there was Celeborn, kissing her neck and untying her laces, freeing her body from her clothes.

"What were you saying?" he breathed into her ear, before kissing it again and letting his hands roam her body without waiting for an answer. She just moaned in reply, and undid the clasps from his tunic, as the two remained passionately entwined deep into the night.