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stories I've never written

Trying to get the juices flowing. Please play along!

Tell me about a story I haven't written, and I'll give you between one and three sentences from that story.

I'm happy to take on any Tolkien, most Sherlock (Doyle - Granada - Ritchie - BBC), and pretty much anything you've seen me blather on about. Tempt me, please. 


Apr. 4th, 2017 02:28 am (UTC)
“If you are so certain this Aragorn son of Arathorn is rightful heir to Anárion’s throne, then convince me.”

The white rod rested heavy in his hand, Faramir and what remained of the Lord’s Council, the scribe taking note of their every word; there could be little doubt he spoke not as father or even lord, but as Ruling Steward, the arbiter of law in this matter. And to his credit Boromir showed some wisdom, did not point to his great feats in battle, nor the great personal debt the House of Húrin owed this north-man with healing in his hands.

“The Sword that was Broken,” Boromir began, “the fey voice in Faramir’s vision summoning me to Imladris – “

Denethor fixed him with a stern look, and Boromir fell silent mid-sentence. “ – can be explained by your brother’s fancy for elven-legends for his part, and the habañeros you enjoyed at the Haradic envoy’s table, for yours. We speak of precedent, not prophecy.”

“Then I am ill-equipped to argue, being no lawyer."

“But Eämdir is,” Denethor countered. “He expects you in the archives this afternoon, and will acquaint you with the proper sources.” Boromir exhaled heavily, and if any among the council thought it a frustrated groan rather than the labored breath of a man still healing from the cracked ribs he’d earned at Gorgoroth, they didn’t say it.

When Denethor finally dismissed scribe and council both, Faramir hung back, leaned in closely. “You enjoyed that,” he said.

Denethor pressed his lips together but could not entirely suppress the quirk at the corners.

“And did you ever plan to mention Zimrazôr’s treatise?” The Grey Riders had brought many treasures south with them, not all so widely known as the Banner of Elendil, and whatever legal reasoning Pelendur had relied on to deny Aragorn’s forefathers, the Númenórean codex Halbarad had borne south in his saddlebags left little doubt to Aragorn’s claim in the matter.

“If your brother still feels some need to prove his points through his own work rather than ask for help when it’s easily at hand, that is his own failing. And if his foolhardiness gives me another few weeks to prepare a smooth transition without my motives being called into question, well, I need hardly apologize for that, either.”

Faramir clapped him on the shoulder, shaking his head in amusement. “You can be a cruel taskmaster.”

“So I have been told, and often with more bite behind the words. The treatise is copied and bound, in Adûnaic and with the Sindarin translations even your brother should be able to manage. It will doubtless be archived in the very section Eämdir will direct him.” And there it was again, that press of the lips that hinted at a well-buried sense of humor. “With any luck, it will even be indexed.”

At that Faramir let out a bark of deep laughter. “Let it never be said you lack style.”


In my defense, I could have gone on for quite a bit longer. Let's just say I have a lot of thoughts about Pelendur's decision and its aftermath.
Apr. 4th, 2017 02:59 am (UTC)
BWAHAHAHAHAHA! OMG! Now this is a snarky Denethor I could like! *grin*

Poor Boromir! And I am sure Faramir's laughing up his sleeves at the idea of his big brother having to rely on old BOOKS!



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