Drabble Challenges

[Gard]

Just Another Adventure [TAFA]

{More not 100 words and I tried to be light with use and mention of those not mine }

Of course they had both known that, if Dagmar didn't have all of the facts just yet, she soon would. They were often familiar sounding tales; and yet the all but Queen of Erebor (though Thorin was still very much running things) brushed patiently and picked another two twigs from the comb.

Really, given her task, she was doing very good at it, the little boy only squirming every now and again had to admit. He could tell Flynn, who had a similar set up, that it would be alright, once he was found. It wasn't that his partner-in-crime and only older brother had abandoned Folkin after some exploring near Mirkwood, Fíli and Dagmar's second born had just been the first found, standing there, trying to find excuses and explanations that didn't given away Flynn but sounded....logical.

He probably had accumulated more twigs though, Folkin thought as more came, he'd been the one to tumble...

He winced over a patch Dags could only do so much with, and despite his being in the hot seat, so to speak, Dags hugged and cuddled after it, then tried yet again, finally speaking, "Are there any trees left wherever you...", her bright voice tried to lightly pry some more of the details and yet broke off. Folkin turned to watch her discard off into the Removed Twigs pile one coated with sticky web.

Folkin couldn't really think it was a surprise but apparently their mother had tried not to assume. She glanced to him, and the second prince had expected stern reprimand but what he got was worse. He faced forward again, stiff, tense, waiting.

"Folkin...", her voice wasn't firm but the lad winced, only meeting his mother's gaze as she turned him about gently on the stool.

"We...we were just on the outsides...we didn't bother the king or...".

His mother sighed, "I know you both know you're only to go into those woods with us, and even we take escorts, the spiders...".

"We didn't see any!", the boy rushed in, not loudly just hurriedly, then realized he interrupted and cut off, glancing down again. His mother next gently tilted is face to once more face her, and again, that gaze was hard to meet for the amount of worry in it, even after the fact and with him sitting here and Flynn off hiding somewhere but safe in the mountain and probably his room. Both mother and son pondered further words to reassure and explain when Fíli strode into the chambers, adding further reinforcements!

Folkin immediately hopped down and rushed over to explain, twigs still stuck in his blonde locks, "Papa! You know me and Flynn are smart right? That we got it? Mama's worried but she doesn't have to and...you know?". As little kids did, he hardly gave enough of the information, so Dagmar supplemented, a smile at her son's cuteness trying to come but hindered still by worry and both the gaze that met Fíli's and her tone meaningful even in its softness, "They were in Mirkwood alone...again...".

"Just the outsides!", Folkin still tried to explain, and while there were many escapades where they could hope to gain their father's aid in explaining (like how the frog he and Flynn found had just needed, very badly, to live with them) the Dwarfling wasn't sure if this was one...

[Fritz]

{Just an explaining of what I've alluded to and Fritz's very causal announcing in a way only he can do Can we say Andar and Arndis are visiting (the wee twins probably don't care ) at said time for dear Fritz's sake and not having to say the awkward twice? }

Fritz pushed a few more of the vegetables in a manner he'd done many other times since childhood, and usually when something weighed. Dags hadn't had a chance yet to ask him how the wheel-swing she'd helped paint had gone over earlier that day, at Líknví's fifty-fifth, but maybe...maybe that would be taken care of in what else he knew he had to say.

{Of course she liked it, she agreed...well...)

The young smith had, and did even now, ponder stalling but...no. With how precarious everything with Lí's own situation and such already sat, if Fritz was going to go about this with all the honor he ever should, as he had been even before admitting it was anything like that, he had to tell now, not look like he was keeping his and Líknví's relationship a secret.

Fritz hated that part of how to learn how to go about this proper was to...well...go about it...the opposite of how Andi had...

Anlaf and Liv's youngest gave a gaze up to where his brother was, thankfully visiting so Fritz wouldn't have to make two declarations. More reason he should just have it out now, and meant no judging by the thought and the gaze was even a smiling loving one as his brother's own focus was on getting Ashar to eat more.

There was still much he was going to need of Andar's advice and much to take from his brother's example.

Fritz glanced to his plate he'd let sit a bit too long and, very aware of his mother's attention and no doubt speculating, he took a bite to try to dissuade any worry and collect his thoughts.

He wasn't just opening Líknví up to more scrutiny? No...not telling would do that worse, Fritz knew.

You've been over and over this, and you know how to proceed!

It still didn't alleviate worry. For the seriousness of Fritz's own thoughts, he knew few besides perhaps his mother had noticed anything and so acknowledged how out of the blue it was going to seem as he cut at his meat, and waited for a lull in the current topics and comments, then, still prior taking the bite, he spoke, the casualness to his voice belaying his nervousness.

"Oh, since I think everyone sort of half cares about stuff in my life, um...no big deal, but I'm sort of, kind of...Courting, um Dags can you pass the rolls please", immediately after having delivered the 'Sort of Kind of Announcement', Fritz strove to move past and even held his hand over, hoping his sister would just hand him the basket and...they could move on.

But of course the almost palpable stunned silence said not (that and his father's cough that spoke of catching him mid sip of his drink) and Dags took his request with the same stunned look before she seemed to break the air with a wide grin and bright words, going on and answering his redundant request "Only if you tell me if it's dear sweet Líknví! Is it?!".

Fritz's nervous, unsure smile turned even more so and he almost muttered, "Do I know anyone else...".

Well that helped identify to her and Kophas, Fritz mentally counted his relations...hopefully would help Cephas' reaction as he hopefully recalled the girl who had stolen here on their cart too...or maybe that wouldn't help...Andar and even Ardis maybe, Lí had helped him babysit....

His slight worrying and ticking off of relations that would know her was cut off by Dagmar flying over to his seat to squish him into a hug, squealing (but in that calm dignified way she always made also true) in delight for her little brother. His brothers also were trying to find their way around words, Fritz noticed. What had Kophas just said?, he hadn't heard him and didn't have a good shot of watching his face since Dags still had him turned at an odd angle in the hug and once released, his brother's face was back to normal. Fritz smiled, still abashed, at the table, but then quickly found his parents eyes, and of them focused on his mother. Liv's reaction...to everything...always determined the future...of everything. Or in this case how easy the future was going to be in his standing by Líknví proceeding.

At what point should he slip in that she was Kvasir's sister...maybe he didn't ever have to tell...well it would come out eventually...wedding attendants, if they got that far, would be a big clue...

[Elrond Peredhel]

Two for one from Elrond (with guest starring from Celeborn >.>)! And "ollo vae" means "dream well/sweet dreams" in Sindarin...

Token of Affection:

This was ridiculous. He was the Herald of Ernenion Gil-galad. He had lived with two Kinslayers for much of his childhood. So why was he here pacing outside the house of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel like he was terrified of them? He paused in midstep. Actually the fact that he was outside their door was scary enough. He wasn't sure which of the two was more terrifying: Lord Celeborn with his axe or Lady Galadriel with her all-too knowing eyes. The few times he had seen the silver-haired Sinda spar without a shirt on, there were quite a few scars on him, likely all made from times well before he was born. And the Lady...he often didn't want to think of how she seemed to know exactly what one was thinking.

He held up the wooden broach he had attempted to make her, frowning since it was not exactly a work of art. He had seen some of the things her father had carved both for her and in general. And he knew his woodworking skills were sadly lacking in comparison to his. But now was no better time than any other. He was to be heading to Lindon tomorrow and he had no idea when he was going to see her again. So he knocked on the door. And tried not to look to terrified when Lord Celeborn answered the door with a smirk on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. He felt his face drain of color as he sputtered, ”I...I've come to give this to your...daughter?” The Sinda's head cocked a moment and his smirk grew, but he let Elrond pass through, though the Half-Elf had the distinct feeling that Celeborn was far too amused by his attempts to woo Celebrian.

Hurt and Comfort:

Though his face was neutral, Elrond's heart broke when his wife told him that she was going to sail, was going to leave him and find comfort and healing with the Valar in Aman. His face only slightly crumbled and he nodded, squeezing her hand as she fell into a dreamless sleep thanks to his magic, enhanced by her mother and father. He watched her still bruised but beautiful face for a few long moments until he could take it no longer and fled into the gardens. Elves that passed him gave him a wide berth and pointedly ignored when he collapsed in front of one of their favorite trees to sit and watch their children when they were growing up and watch Imladris in general.

They also ignored the obvious sounds and motions of their Lord sobbing against the tree trunk. Or so he thought. He jumped when a hand touched his shoulder, snappish words that were on the tip of his tongue for the intruder dying when he saw who it was: his father-in-law. Celeborn was crouched before him, like a large cat ready to pounce. And the image, so incongruous with his swirling emotions forced a slightly hysterical laugh from him before they evolved into more sobs. And suddenly he was brought into Celeborn's embrace, the older elf rocking him and humming a lullaby that he had heard Celeborn sing to the twins and Arwen when they were little. At some point he fell asleep and as his consciousness slipped away, he felt lips brush against his forehead and a voice murmur, ”Ollo vae, ion nin.”

[Harper]

First Introducton to Concept

"Now Harper", her mother had said and warned her, "remember...", but Harper knew what to 'remember'.

Not too much of an impact.

The people in town couldn't look too closely or have to much proof that she was now no older (not even by a little) than she had been the last time she was in town.

If her parents didn't understand the need of companionship so much they wouldn't have let Harper go at all for the risk. Númenor bloodline rumor might have worked for them but they weren't so sure Harper wouldn't draw attention for her stunting at her young age.

Giving her promise, the girl was then allowed to skip out the door and towards town. She took it on foot, not changing, for both secrecy and enjoying the view from under the trees too. The fact that she could change to get away gave a confidence and secure feeling and she skipped along happily.

Reaching town, and the main bustle of Dol Amroth, the girl, who was still a child and hatching and equivalent to a nine or ten year old, soon spotted her reason for coming, though not specifically. Children her age. A boy of about eight was perfect and Harper slowly walked over, trying to think up how to introduce herself.

The boy, Wesley III, was also not going to argue someone about his age to do stuff with, currently he was the male escort (such as he counted) for his Grandmary about the market and harbor, and while he loved her, what elder women sought out as interesting purchases was boring!

Still that was better than embarrassing!

"Oh Wesley darling, wouldn't this look just stunning! Here let me--", something was fitted onto Wes' head and a glance to a convenient mirror of the stall showed the worst sailing type hat Wes had ever seen!

Oh! He couldn't wear this in public, it was not possible! But how to tell Grandmary?

Of course the stall owner was no help, nodding approvingly with that grin to get a sale! It was not proper, but Wes scowled at him.

"Hello...", someone, a girl, had seen him, Wes could tell as he turned to the voice. He couldn't tell by her smile if she also found the hat horrible, but how could she not?!

Her black/brown hair was left free and her skirts and blouse were the typical sea side fashion and only a bit dusty. Her feet bare.

She similarly seemed to try to find what knowledge there was from his appearance, but ever with an intrigued and open smile.

Wes felt Grandmary's hands lightly at his shoulders and by a quick glance knew she somehow found this girl beneath her grandson. He was attempted steered off before he could even say Hello, and heard her whisper something about ship hoppers, but was thankfully still young enough to get away with treating her certain beliefs as suggestions he could ignore. He dodged aside and stood before the girl again.

"Hello", he included a light bow, coming off odd from such a young child, but giving a very good reason to remove his hat, and then hold it. "I'm Wes". He would not introduce himself as Wesley! "Are you new around here? I mean--". He'd probably messed up.

Harper just smiled wider, but fidgeted, debating answer. "Yes...new to town anyway, we live a bit outside it...I'm Harper", she answered cautiously honest. Grandmary, while not frowning too much more, looked slightly perplexed then gave a small nod, as if she had heard such a rumor of such a family and even so the girl could just mean even farther out (or again, she was a wandering ship hopper making up an answer).

"Oh! Then we should show you around!", Wes said and glanced back up to his Grandmary, who smiled at the dear child too young for prejudices yet. Well and on second thought she didn't think this girl would try to beg off of them, which had been her first concern.

She nodded, "Yes, Wesley, why don't you show her some of the best stalls", the older woman agreed with a smile.

"Come on!", Wes put the hat back down on the stall and motioned, jogging on ahead, but waited to make sure he didn't lose the girl. Harper grinned wider and skipped after, happy to be thrust right in the middle of being a normal child of town and learning all about that.

"Oh! Wesley your...", Grandmary tried to call after him and hand him the hat she intended to buy, then gave it up. She sighed and returned it to the stall owner who looked deflated at a lost sale.

Everything interested the girl. Kick the can. Stall sweets (though she said her parents made some sweet, just not like these); and even just running races through semi-open parts of the square. He only saw her that one day, but then after two years Wes left Dol Amroth for quite a while, unaware she did too, and unaware he'd had a first introduction into the concept of skin-changers. Once or twice the wide-eyed wonder the skin-changer who became like his sister, Malia, showed would almost mirror hers, but Wes never put the two together.

[Eldred]

[er, maybe it is me getting out my frustrations... sorry if anyone takes offense to this, it's meant to be ... sort of funny?]

ELDRED aka CLAUDE WILLIS for OuaT
Baker’s Sweet Delight.

In a little town; both pristine and rachet, was a little coffee shop. The owner was an elderly woman with a taste for vintage roses, lace, all things Jane Austen, and the color pink. In. ALL. Shades. So, if the little old lady owned a shop, there had to be little old ladies who ran it, or maybe even enthusiastic young men and women, right? Right! The little shop was around the corner from the pet groomers (Pretty Paws), easily accessed by many, mostly elderly people, and fellow Jane Austen enthusiasts!

“Hello, welcome to Grandma’s Corner. Where we have the sweetest sweets, and the cosiest corner in all of Middleton.” If you just read that in an enthusiastic tone, you’ll have to re-read it. The man behind the counter was definitely not happy to be there. He looked as though he belonged more in a gym than selling sweets. He wore a pink apron lined with white lace; his uniform was a hot pink, thankfully he could wear (nice) jeans. His name tag was made of contrasting pink chalkboard-like material. His name was delicately scrawled in white chalk: Claude. Clearly it wasn’t written by his hand, not that Claude didn’t have nice handwriting (he did), but the old woman took pride in making all the little details herself.

“Can I get one of the Chocolate cupcakes, please?” A little teenage girl asked. She looked like she was about to burst into laughter at the mere sight of him, or perhaps his was entire mood. Claude sighed, “Do you want the Chocolate-Chocolatey Cupcake, or the Triple Chocolatey Delight?” He asked. She looked for a second, settling with the ‘Triple Chocolatey Delight’. Claude picked up the tiny little tongs, and one of the little plates. Placing the rather large cupcake on the tiny plate, he handed it to the girl across the counter. Money was exchanged, and it was time for the next customer.

“Hello. Welcome to Grandma’s Corner. Where we have the sweetest sweets, and the cosiest corner in all of Middleton.” The next customer was an elderly woman. She looked as though she owned seven cats and a little ‘toy’ dog. “Hello, dear! Yes, I think  want the Red and Velvety cupcake, please.” Claude nodded, and proceeded to repeat the processes of picking up a little plate, and little tongs. But! Just as he was about to put it on the plate, the woman spoke up, “Oh, no-no! I think I want… Light and Lemony…” That would have been the little Lemon cakes. They came two ways: With frosting. Without frosting.

Claude felt himself tense up. “With… or without frosting?” He asked as politely as he could. “Oh I don’t know… have to watch the figure, you know. My husband will be in here soon, I don’t really know what he wants. Maybe we’ll get the same thing. Yes, I think so. We’ll take both: with and without frosting. We’ll split them when he comes.” The old lady rambled. Carefully, Claude set down the cupcake tongs, and picked up the cake spatula. “Oh, I just remembered he doesn’t like Lemon. Get him the Light as a Cloud pound cake, with strawberries, and whipped cream.”

He felt the paper plate crumple in his hand. He tossed it in the little trashcan below him. Oddly enough it was the only item in the whole store that wasn’t pink. It was basic black. Still, Claude picked up two plates, and placed what the old lady had requested onto said serving dish, and turned to put the strawberries and whipped cream on top. You see, Grandma wanted to give the customers free choice over what they wanted on their pound cake. When he was done, he placed it on the tray. “And I will get the Red and Velvety cupcake, please. Oh, and Light and Lemony for my granddaughter. She’s single, you know. Lovely girl!”

It was at this point that Claude stopped listening. Every time a grandmother came in she had a single granddaughter who was lovely. And like a robot, Claude placed all three of the elderly ladies requests on a tray. She passed him the amount on the register.

Let’s get one thing clear. Claude was not on the market for dating. He was already taken. With the Gym as best friend, and Netflix & Chill as his wife, he needed no other beings in his life.

“Hello. Welcome to Grandm-”

“Yeah, the Sunshiny Day, tell me, how fresh is it? I don’t want one that’s been sitting out for too long. I love them when they are fresh out the oven, and hot.” The woman (it was always a woman who did this, and the occasional errand boy who looked completely at a loss as to why it was important that anything in the shop shouldn’t be fresh). Claude felt his patience running out very. Very. quickly. “Everything is made fresh every morning.” That was not the right answer, apparently...

[Kargach]

Dissension

{Yep, just expanding the story Karg tells/story from his childhood. And don't ask me about the logistics of basements in cavern dwellings alright }

There was dissension in the ranks. That was a fancy way of saying they weren't all agreed on this particular adventure. The group of five, all boys, stared at the caved in doorway to the area supposedly abandoned, and therefore ripe for exploring.

He'd promised his current gang of the moment reward for all this, though, and something interesting.

There was bound to be stuff, Kargach figured. Something left behind they could pilfer, he knew most of them were on hard times back home and while he would not condone stealing he...well...was condoning a...sort of stealing...yeah...when it didn't seem to bother no one.

Karg knew what his mother would say about that, and pushed past it as he started the group off towards the door. His morals were not being corrupted by the types of things able to be found to do around Ered Mirhrin, as she seemed to fear when he came home dirty or beat up and unable to give satisfactory answer about why.

"Hold up!", Karg knew who spoke even as he turned, Ruk, who had a name he seemed to be trying to live up to by being as tough as it seemed to sound like it and he should be. He wasn't always a regular, hardly any of the gaggle of Dwarfling groupings about were regular, or steady day to day, but he was a thorn in Kargach's side every time!

As Karg turned to him, the other presented his doubting scowl. "That place don't look like there's nothin' in it!", Ruk challenged.

"Well that's what we're gonna find out!", Kargach shot back without missing a beat and with his same amicable smile, "If you're too good for it...".

He should have maybe thought before all out handing him the same rib he was often presented with. Ruk scowled more darkly but at the other's back as he turned nonchalant and started towards the homestead. "I ain't the one born with a silver spoon!", a world of bitterness seemed to follow this statement and about it.

Karg turned briefly, acknowledged what he'd done, but just as soon smiled once more, "Me neither, ours are wooden". He would not defend his family's status today, and again, they were still working class!

Figuring that took care of that, Kargach was the one to hesitantly push open the door. The world of dust and abandonment that met them just proved his suspicions! Karg supposed if he were to pause and analyze it, something about that, and how this family probably left after not being able to keep ahead and above and going under due to the despair of this settlement, was unbelievably sad; but he didn't ponder it.

Still, an odd sense of violating seized him as he and his troop of also dusty and grubby dwarflings shuffled in and took in furniture also left. Most personal items seemed gone though. His father would tell him how expensive wood was, though, or a whole house of furniture of it. They must not have had the means to carry it to leave it to fall apart here.

Kargach brushed his hand along a table, and debated if he should tell his father about his find. It was sad, and his family doing alright, but...well...they could still use spare bits of wood if no one else was gonna...

His thoughts were interrupted by the same mocking tone, "Yeah, this is great...dust and rotting wood".

Karg scowled, he wasn't sure why, but insulting the wood seemed too far to him. "It's not rotten yet", was all he said with his expert eye of the son of a wheel wright. "It's beautiful in fact", he couldn't help adding, opening himself up to more criticism, possibly from all of his companions, for being so sappy. They left it at a unison mocking chuckle Karg didn't care about though.

Well, there wasn't anything useful for them here, or interesting beyond the wood to boot, so Karg moved on. "Come on, I'm sure if they left anything it's in the basement", his movements further lead the rag-tag group on.

Karg had been right, as soon as he lighted a found stub of candle to see where the fake lights even shining through the upper floor had aided, but didn't here, it glinted on gold! At first the lad didn't believe his eyes and tried to ponder out why, yet the more he looked, the more he understood. It was hardly coins, any of it, just random junk, but wrought of silver or other fine metals and definitely worth a small fortune, especially to the lads with him.

The wheel-wright's son knew they needed it, so took an inventory of what he figured he could let them have. It was mostly all of it, nothing seeming to hold the look or print of sentimental value, and they would have probably taken that stuff with them.

Must have been very rushed to leave this much. Maybe they had been on the run...Karg let his imagination go and ponder. Maybe they'd done something here and if the soldiers...

"Woah!", Ruk's voice broke through and interrupted again. Karg glanced over. Everyone was gleaning something, and for the most part his eyes caught no large items. Even Ruk only held a small item it seemed. Kargach stepped closer until he could spot the jewel in the other's hand.

An actual jewel?!

Without asking permission, Karg took it from the other boy’s hand, next shoving an arm up to guard from the other trying to just as quickly grab it back. It was a broach with a costly looking jewel as its center and main piece. All this was just interesting until he turned it and spotted the inscription.

An important broach then, and no doubt not meant to be left behind. Sure there were many who would tell Karg that 'the Butcher' got much the same handed into him by the desperate or foolish, but Kargach refused to believe that was the story here.

They had been on the run!

With a scowl, Ruk took back his claim. ”Ruk, hold on...”, Karg started, but his words and lightly reaching hand were roughly shoved aside once more. "Get yer own!", all Ruk spat. Karg sighed, "I don't want it", he explained, "I'm thinking maybe we shouldn't take it".

He just as well might have said that he thought a dragon had moved in next door and they shouldn't wake it, for the look of utter bewilderment Ruk shot him.

"It's personal, see the inscription...", Karg went on, pointing. His hand was roughly slapped away. "I don't care!". Kargach should have expected the answer, in all honesty, but still frowned at Ruk utterly bewildered. "You can't tell me you'd keep something you found out belonged to someone who might come for it...".

He was apparently thought too High and Mightly again; Ruk scowled at him again, "Why don't ya mind your own business!".

Karg did soften. "Look...Ruk...why don't you take that purse over there, it's got coins and...".

A curse was the answer he got! That told him to Go On.

Kargach frowned deeper, Ok, he'd tried... This wasn't a statement of giving up, more the opposite. Kargach held out his hand. "Give it, Ruk", he said steadily and calmly but firmly. Ruk turned as if to make off with his find, and Karg grabbed his sleeve. That was the catalyst for it all...

Ruk threw the first punch, Karg had resolved he wouldn't take this to fighting if he could help it, but he also knew most of the rag tag groups about Ered Mithrin. Sure he could run, but it would seal his fate. So he punched back, just trying to end it all and make Ruk give in. They tussled until finally success was given in the form of someone pinning the someone else. Karg being the one pinning. So he was begrudgingly handed the broach.

And that was that.

Trying not to beam too much, Kargach stood and pocketed the broach, but only to later go tell his parents about and turn in to proper authorities (if they could be found...) to save if the family ever came for it.