Pictures at an Exhibition by Robinka

Can I Play with Madness?

A drabble written in response to B2MeM 2011 Day #5, "Menegroth": Write a story or poem or create artwork that will illustrate the consequences of isolation.

Thank yous go to Pandë for a quick beta and advice and to Iron Maiden for the title.

This glimpse is a bit of a far larger story of mine that depicts the battle in the forest of Brethil, coming soon in the cinemas near you ;).

Fused, they moved as one. When she reached out, he answered. If he pressed, she complied. Her fingers clawed his side to urge him on, he never failed to listen; his palm on her hip, though she needed no support. She lunged upward, then retreated; when she yelled, he darted forward and clenched his teeth with a growl.

Back to back, they stood rooted in place as their axes swung, slash after slash, bathed in black. Alone, surrounded by a screeching crowd, aware only of each other amid the slaughter.

Later, Súllinn would rasp, “Húrin... Huor... managed?”

Beleg could only wonder.