birthdays, hobbits, drabbles.
Oct. 25th, 2004 12:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pauraque_bkHappy birthday to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eponis and idlerat, two of my favorite LJ-ers, both of whom I happen to have met at different times. Wouldn't it be neat if we could all three get together someday? A boy can dream...
Yesterday my brother and I went to a play. It was a musical (filk) parody of Lord of the Rings. My brother is a great LotR fan, so I think he got more out of it than I did, but it was still very enjoyable. There is something inherently amusing in Gollum singing an aria to his precious. Also, the hobbits were played by women, presumably because they're shorter, and because somebody had to sing the soprano parts.
ETA: Oh, and there was Legolas/Gimli.
I didn't do a whole round of postcard drabbles, but I did send one each tobowdlerized and fluffyllama, because they are extra-special (actually, because Bow sent me cookies, and because Llama sent me a drabble first). I asked them to provide a character or pairing and a theme, on which I would write 100 words. Both drabbles have been safely received, so now I can share.
Forbowdlerized:
Echo
'Minerva,' he said, fingertips stroking over her abdomen as they lay there in the sun. The air was humid coming off the lake, and the shade of the willows played across his white-marble face as he watched her, propped up on his elbow, eyes black in the shadows.
'Minerva,' he says in a hollow rasp, eyes burning blank red, white-death face smeared with mud. Harry is beside her, clutching and dragging on her robes to hold himself up, breath coming fast and heavy. The boy raises his wand, and whatever words there might have been are strangled in her throat.
Forfluffyllama:
Love Makes a Family
Peter runs, images tumbling before his eyes: Smoke curling in a snake above his parents' house -- his mother's hands hot and damp as she clings to Peter and cries Robert Robert why -- his father lying on the kitchen floor, eyes wide in surprise beneath his glasses.
Peter stumbles breathless and red-eyed into the study. Voldemort turns, and his weary, pale face spreads into a benevolent smile.
'Don't cry for him, Peter. You're pure now. Just as I am.'
Peter falls, broken, into his master's arms. 'Father--!' he sobs.
'Yes,' says Voldemort, stroking Peter's hair. 'I am your father now.'
Feedback is the nectar of the gods.
eponis and idlerat, two of my favorite LJ-ers, both of whom I happen to have met at different times. Wouldn't it be neat if we could all three get together someday? A boy can dream...Yesterday my brother and I went to a play. It was a musical (filk) parody of Lord of the Rings. My brother is a great LotR fan, so I think he got more out of it than I did, but it was still very enjoyable. There is something inherently amusing in Gollum singing an aria to his precious. Also, the hobbits were played by women, presumably because they're shorter, and because somebody had to sing the soprano parts.
ETA: Oh, and there was Legolas/Gimli.
I didn't do a whole round of postcard drabbles, but I did send one each to
bowdlerized and fluffyllama, because they are extra-special (actually, because Bow sent me cookies, and because Llama sent me a drabble first). I asked them to provide a character or pairing and a theme, on which I would write 100 words. Both drabbles have been safely received, so now I can share.For
bowdlerized:Echo
'Minerva,' he said, fingertips stroking over her abdomen as they lay there in the sun. The air was humid coming off the lake, and the shade of the willows played across his white-marble face as he watched her, propped up on his elbow, eyes black in the shadows.
'Minerva,' he says in a hollow rasp, eyes burning blank red, white-death face smeared with mud. Harry is beside her, clutching and dragging on her robes to hold himself up, breath coming fast and heavy. The boy raises his wand, and whatever words there might have been are strangled in her throat.
For
fluffyllama:Love Makes a Family
Peter runs, images tumbling before his eyes: Smoke curling in a snake above his parents' house -- his mother's hands hot and damp as she clings to Peter and cries Robert Robert why -- his father lying on the kitchen floor, eyes wide in surprise beneath his glasses.
Peter stumbles breathless and red-eyed into the study. Voldemort turns, and his weary, pale face spreads into a benevolent smile.
'Don't cry for him, Peter. You're pure now. Just as I am.'
Peter falls, broken, into his master's arms. 'Father--!' he sobs.
'Yes,' says Voldemort, stroking Peter's hair. 'I am your father now.'
Feedback is the nectar of the gods.
