ImladrisIn Imladris, in RivendellImladris3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Are secrets more than I can tell
There ancient lore of long-lost lands
Still lingers on in elven hands
In Rivendell, in Imladris
Are love and laughter, joy and bliss
East of Sea few places remain
That grant such sure surcease from pain
In Imladris, in Rivendell
They shall not yet say their farewell
For even when all else may fade
Some light shall live, untouched by shade.
Did He Not Come HereFëanor asks it of all of them. Each new soul to walk within the Halls of Mandos is sought out and given his questions. He is brilliant and he is driven, and not knowing is a thing he cannot bear.Did He Not Come Here2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Even those who've had no cause to wish him well answer when they see the look in his eyes, the need to know the answer to his questions.
"Where is Macalaurë, also called Maglor? How fares my son?"
Always, they do not know. And always, always, they look to Maedhros as they ask, "Did he not come here with you?"
Wake The Night - Vhaeraunite HymnSons of shadow, wake the nightWake The Night - Vhaeraunite Hymn3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Let the dark awaken
Dusk's embrace strengthens your might
Guides the dark paths taken.
Take up blade and shadow-mask
In the silence creeping
Turn toward the holy task
While all else is sleeping.
Ebon-masked ones, wake the night
Let the dark awaken
Set yourselves to stand and fight
Let the world be shaken.
Thoughts...They wondered about him, he knew that. They couldn't understand why such a smart man, a genius some of them called him, would be that alone, but still be happy about it. And they didn't know that he really wasn't happy, that it was all an act that he put on, his last and greatest performance.Thoughts...4 years ago in Drama More Like This
He had lost everybody now, there was nobody left that he could hold on to, that he could watch. Elrond's sons had finally sailed with their grandfather earlier in the day, and he was now all alone. Of course, they had never known he was watching them, that they were all he had that kept him from completely losing himself in his thoughts, his thoughts that just wouldn't shut up, and that kept replaying in his mind, tormenting him with everything that he had ever done or said that had caused others to disapprove of him, but really what else was there for him to hold onto? All the happy memories in the world couldn't keep his thoughts away. His singing was the only thing that did that, but when he sa
The Baenre GirlsIt had been several weeks since Quenthel's resurrection. The drowess found it disconcerting to know that she had been dead, but she praised Lloth for the joy of living again to see the enemies of House Baenre destroyed. Quenthel's memories of the Demonweb Pits were blurred, like some distant dream. She remembered only the smell of sulphur and the feel of cobwebs.The Baenre Girls3 years ago in Drama More Like This
Quenthel had been invited to Triel's private chambers, ostensibly for a few drinks. Quenthel knew her older sister was always looking for opportunities to size up her sisters, to analyse whether they posed potential threats. The drow smiled at the joy at which Triel greeted her return from the dead. The two sisters had always been affectionate towards each other and after the separation of death, especially so. Yet their hugs and kisses could not hide the rivalry between them. Triel was as aware of it as she was. When Quenthel got the chance to kill her sister and seize control of Menzoberranzan, it would be the final act of s
Maedhros: Son of FireHe was the fireMaedhros: Son of Fire4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Wine until bottom
And pain of fame
He was my father
His anger like flood
We sealed our Oath
In fire and blood
The flame extinguished
By Oath we're still bound
Through tears and pain
No rest to be found
The blood on my hands
And my hand in chains
What was it for
When nothing remains?
The Light we sought, burns
So close, yet so far
We are not worthy
To touch a star
Burning flame, take me
And clean the stain
Take the cursed Jewel
And end my pain!
In fire it started
In fire it ends
Just like my father
The fire in my veins
The Rohirrim Ride ForthBold they ride and battle-readyThe Rohirrim Ride Forth3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Swift the horses, stern the Men
Sounds of hooves like thunder rising
Who shall ride homeward again?
Gondor calls in hour of peril
Rohan answers, ever brave
Rohirrim ride, though each man knows
Journey's end may be the grave.
Forth they ride, the Eorlingas
War's horn calls to Rohan's Men
Bravely go they to the battle
Some shall not ride homeward again.
BecomingA whip's slashing sound penetrated the thick silence in the dungeon of the Sorcere, the drow academy of wizardry...Becoming3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
The exhausted dark elf gulped, trying to hold himself together as he experienced the searing pain on his back.
"What is it going to be now, eh? You know very well everyone else passed the test two weeks ago. Either that or they left for the Melee Magthere to become mere warriors..."
The voice came from the back of the large, gloomy room. The crimson-coloured imp familiar snickered as it playfully flew around the Master's shoulders, the archmage and head tutor of the Sorcere.
"Ardul of the House Alaundril and a few others made it over a month ago..."
The younger drow thought of responding, but as he was recovering from the shock of the last hit, the Master interrupted him:
"But I bet you already knew that, didn't you? I would assume so since you are doing his sister every week!"
The surprised initia
A ritual of SpidersDark, slender silhouettes...A ritual of Spiders3 years ago in Settings More Like This
Blurry, soft movements in the shadowy, narrow streets...
The silence echoed throughout the City of Spiders, where drow slept, in their nightmares
filled with light. The few magical lights dancing over the city's buildings were already
The female entered the unholy temple of black obsidian. Her walk as elegant and strong
as her pose. Terrifying chants and arcane words of forgotten languages were spoken,
words that haunted the dreams of the sun-dwellers for centuries...
As the arch-priestess entered, removing her hood, the chanting gained in both pace and
volume, as if infected through her charismatic presence. Ancient, primal forces were
already being awakened. Removing her cloak, the white-haired drow entered the hexagon
formed by the chanting initiates. They all wore exquisitely weaved clothes of the finest
silk. Silk made from the web of the blessed arachnids. The same spiders that decorated
Sand and MusicSand and MusicSand and Music4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He feels he cannot walk another step, until he does. The next step is the same, and the next, and he has stopped counting the sunsets and sunrises because measuring eternity has no purpose. He has wandered an eternity already, carrying his small harp for some indeterminable, compulsive reason, because it will be years before he can play again, if ever, and the sand blows into his eyes and into his throat as he sings. His hands are burnt and scarred and his voice is hoarse, and he wants to rip the strings from the taunting harp and scream, but he is unable to do either because it hurts too much.
Every muscle that has been on fire begins to numb from sheer fatigue, and he feels that he will die without food but is too weak from walking to fish or hunt- but then, Maitimo survived thirty-some years without food, didn't he- and now he is thinking of Maitimo again and he swore to himself that he would not think of them right now.&
Blood Under StarlightFaerun, TorilBlood Under Starlight3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The night was still. There was no omen or warning in this night, nothing that might hint at the coming threat.
The drow had come to the surface.
At the edge of the forest, the raiding party had gathered, waiting for the return of their scout, sent ahead to check the area. Some of the raiders prodded the trunks of the trees in wariness or disgust. Some twitched at every little sound; the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the flight of a night-bird overhead, all seemed strange and threatening.
Some, on the other hand, were staring up at the sky, looking at the stars. They'd been taught that the distant pinpricks of light served as a mocking warning of the searing fire that would rise in the sky here during other hours; combined with its obvious reminder of the uncomfortable lack of stone overhead, it was little wonder their expressions contained both distaste and perverse fascination.
Mazarun Zothyrr shivered a little as the breeze brushed his cheek and set his hair to