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Author Topic: A Drabble By Any Other Name  (Read 2279 times)

Thorin Oakenshield

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A Drabble By Any Other Name
« on: February 20, 2015, 05:06:00 AM »
M U S I C; Thorin Oakenshield
    THORIN OAKENSHIELD
    ────────────────────[/i]

    The harp was his choice of musical instrument. The sounds that came from it were indescribable. Pleasantly dynamic, like nothing he had ever heard!

    Thorin sat in his throne room, the gray st0ne was warmed little by the sunlight that filled the hall. He gazed at the door, wondering if there was anything else that was going to come through it, and how long it would take to deal with. He so wanted to leave and find something to help him unwind. So far he had handled three robbers who tried to steal from the royal treasury, accepted two party invitations and had a long, grueling audience with his financial advisor. Then there were the stone masons that needed paperwork signed, and builder’s contracts to hear out, figure out and sign! The Dwarf King was tired. Thorin closed his eyes and sat back on his throne. It wasn’t easy being King! Those who thought it was great didn’t really understand what it was like.

    Unwillingly his hands lifted themselves and a session of ‘air harp’ began. He imagined plucking the strings, and he imagined the melodious sounds that would come from them. He imagined playing a song he had long known, a song that pleased his father when he first learned it. His fingers glided through the air, plucking the strings in time. He lost himself in the imagination, so lost that it took the messenger boy a few moments to break into is thoughts.

    Thorin slowly opened his eyes. The boy looked terrified, and for a moment the King forgot who he was. The music faded and simply stared. “What is it?” He asked, his voice unintentionally dark. “What more can I do today?” He asked again when the lad didn’t answer. “If there is nothing more, then I will retire and see no one else today.” The messenger’s eyes shifted from his King to the air where the imaginary harp had been, then back to Thorin. “No my Lord. Nothing else.”

    “Then be gone.” Thorin replied levelly. The messenger bowed and exited the hall. Rising from his throne, he walked off to a pair of double doors and pushed them open. Before him was a dark hall and a single torch. Taking the torch off its hanger, he proceeded down the hall. Soon, he came to another pair of doors and pushed them open, too. Inside was another large room like the great hall. But it was decorated with a homier feel, and there were people – cooks to be exact – busying themselves with preparations for a dinner party that was going to be thrown in his honor. Many of the cooks paused what they were doing and bowed as he passed. From here Thorin would make his way back to his room.

    However, along the way he espied a door that was slightly ajar. Curiosity piqued, he looked both ways before crossing the hall and peering into the room. It was an ordinary looking room, dim though the light may have been. Pushing the door open a little further, something gold caught his eye. It was the only object in the room. Thorin’s blue eyes widened in surprise. “A Harp…” he whispered, if only to himself. Officially he stepped into the room, careful to close the door behind him.

    The room was circular, and right in the middle was the golden harp and a wooden stool to sit upon. The desire to touch it was irresistible. Hanging the torch in a holder he approached it as though he were approaching a wounded animal. Slowly, cautiously. When he was close enough he reached out with one hand and felt the smooth gold under his fingertips. They passed over an embossed floral design, and with the other he felt the smooth curve and up to the back where the stool sat as though patiently waiting to be sat in. He touched it gently, afraid that if he so much as laid any pressure upon it, it would break under his touch.

    It was solid, but he felt himself tremble as he continued to stare at it. He coveted it, he desired it like he had never done so before. A look that no woman could provoke from him shown clearly on his face in this moment as he beheld the Harp. A gentle expression, a loving expression.

    He sat down on the stool, and with such gentleness he leaned the harp to his shoulder, raised his hands, and in practiced, smooth rhythm began to play. The sounds that erupted from the instrument were soft, melodious and indescribable…[/li][/list]
    speech color code: 102372

    played by Hades sig by Hades!

    Hades

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    A Drabble By Any Other Name
    « Reply #1 on: February 20, 2015, 11:41:00 PM »
    F L O W E R; Radagast
      AIWDENDIL[/i]
      ────────────────────[/font]
      Radagast sat in his hut and reflected back to his early childhood, which seemed so far away. He recalled the smell of his favorite flower, the feel of the rabbits when he touched them, and he remembered the songs the birds sang from the trees.

      “Remember Aiwdendil,” Yavanna was saying, her voice sweet like a songbird's. It was smooth and there was a hint of laughter there as she gazed into his eyes. “Flowers are picked for their beauty, but do not take them from their environment. Instead look after it with care.” She smiled sweetly at him, the flower he had picked for her in her hand. He gazed up at her, eyes glossy and tear filled. He felt as though he had failed her by plucking the flower and bringing it to her. And although she smiled down at him, placed the flower in his hair, and kneeled to hug him… he could not help the small tear that escaped, running down his cheek.

      Yavanna’s hand whipped the tear away. “Listen to me,” she said again, looking him in the face, but he looked anywhere else but hers, “Look at me… please?” Aiwdendil caught his breath and looked at her. “That’s better!” She praised, beaming at him. A look of astonishment crossed his face and she laughed, “How could I be upset with you, little one?” She asked, he shrugged, a small smile coming his face. “Now go on and play with your friends. I have much to do this afternoon.”

      Aiwdendil grinned and ran out of the hall. When he was beneath the beautiful opal sky he breathed in the fresh air and skipped down the steps that lead away into the woods where he would meet his friend the Deer, the Rabbit and the Cardinal. They were there in a small field. He ran up to them and embraced the Deer, allowed the Cardinal to perch on his head and bent to stroke the Rabbit gently between the ears.

      “My friends!” He exclaimed, plopping down on the soft grass. “It is good to see you. What shall we do today?”[/li][/list]

      Everett Brandybuck

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      A Drabble By Any Other Name
      « Reply #2 on: February 21, 2015, 01:02:00 AM »
      M E M O R I E S; Everett Brandybuck
        EVERETT BRANDYBUCK
        ────────────────────

        The wind outside blew gently. Everett, with his old eyes, could see the waves it made as it blew over the tall grass. Everett himself sat under a large oak observing these things. His hair was gray with age, and his face was tanned from many years out in the sun, and his face wrinkled kindly with age. His eyes, though, gleamed with the old spark of youth as he saw before him a figure that looked a lot like himself running through the tall grass, feeling the wind tug gently at his brown hair and feeling the sun on his face, blue eyes sparkling. The young man laughed spreading his arms wide and falling back among the tall grass probably to gaze at the fat, fluffy clouds that rolled by.

        Everett smiled. Those days were gone now, and the woman he had called his wife had passed beyond him. It was only a matter of time before he would be joining her wherever she was. His smile faded and his eyes became glossy as he held back the tears.

        Under this oak is where he had met her. Her smiling face and lovely brown eyes. He remembered the olive colored dress she wore, and the way it complimented her tanned face. Her braided, golden locks of hair came down and framed her round face beautifully. When she spoke, her voice was soft and gentle with a slight accent. When she giggled it was the sweetest sound his ears had ever heard.

        She had been perfect and he would never forget her. Looking down at his hand, he remembered that he was holding a little blue flower. These, too, were her favorite. He remembered the first time he plucked them for her. Bunches of little blue flowers that he had used as an excuse to go and visit her often. When he found that she liked to read, he would bring her books from his own bookshelves. And when he found that she enjoyed just lying under the oak tree where they had met, he started to meet her there, and it where under the oak that he proposed to her, and she had said yes.

        Then he remembered the young man in the field that looked a lot himself, and he remembered that after she had left to tell her folks the good news, he had run out into the field and fallen back into the grass with the happiest feeling in the world, not caring about the clouds, and only seeing her face in them when they passed over…


        inspiration for this[/li][/list]
        speech color code:C2BF1D

        played by: Hades

        Noruiniven

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        A Drabble By Any Other Name
        « Reply #3 on: February 22, 2015, 06:50:00 AM »
        P O N D E R I N G S; Noruiniven
          NORUINIVEN[/i]
          ────────────────────[/font]
          Even with all the darkness in the world, there is always a little a corner devoted to the happiness of others. It is in this little corner that Noruiniven lived. Contentment was never hard to come by, and when you lived under the protection of the Lady of Lothlórien there was nothing to truly be sad about! Yet, it amazed him beyond measure how people could still feel sadness in their lives. ‘All the world loves a lover’, but it also loves its tragedies. Tragedies that came from that love, tis true!

          Niven sat up in a tree and gazed out at the barren emptiness and pondered the reason for people’s unhappiness. The loss of a loved one, the loss of a pet, the loss of a friend, and all this because of loss. He had experienced loss as well. He remembered his friend who had persuaded him to do something with his life instead of sit in a tree all day and day-dream his life away (even though he had an eternity to do so). It had been the most painful experience he had been through, which was why he cherished his relationships with his friends, all the while always keep his distance for fear of being hurt.

          But, none of this stopped him from being happy every now and again. To find peace, and closure in the peaceful hours of the morning, or the evening… or even at night! He always found something to be happy for, why could others not do the same as he? Wouldn’t the lives of those sad, miserable creatures that called themselves beings be much easier? Perhaps not. He thought, pulling a fig from his satchel. If people truly wanted to be happy, then they would be so all the time! It is not for me to decide how they want to feel. But even on the really bad days, could they not at least remember to look for something good that happened to them? Perhaps a smile from a friend? A greeting from someone you had not seen for a while… Or maybe people need their sorrows to make them feel better. Perhaps they find happiness in their toils?

          Niven sighed, biting into his fig. The sun was setting on another day, and the birds were chirping happily in the trees. Birds seem so free, I wonder if they ever have to worry about the things we do…[/li][/list]
          speech code:B1BDA8


          played by: Hades

          Ginger Dúnhere

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          Re: A Drabble By Any Other Name
          « Reply #4 on: February 25, 2016, 06:30:52 AM »
          between the weeks
          ________________________
          after Cassandra before Victoria

               “Now that is an interesting question, I must say.” Ginger said, looking up over her newspaper. There was no one sitting at the other end of the table, and the warm smell of coffee was faded, and the toast on the plate in front of her had already grown cold. the coffee in her cup was growing stale. Flapping down the paper in agitation, Ginger glared at the empty seat across from her, “Now see here, I don’t like that tone of voice! If you don’t have anything nice to say, well, don’t stay it at all. … … .. what am I doing to myself?” She asked, folding the newspaper, placing it on the table beside her plate.
               All she could do was stare into nothingness. What is becoming of me? She wondered. Everything in her life had plummeted since Cassandra’s disappearance. Everyone was assuming that it was death, since that was really the leading cause of disappearances, even though no bodies were found. Casey’s article had shown a light into the private life of the missing girl, and favored Ginger as the sorrowful roommate of the eccentric life Cassie had once led.
               There was no one to pull her into having a little fun, and mingling with the Cassie’s crowd, even if it only resulted in driving home by herself two hours later because Cassandra had caught the eye of an suspecting young man. Or, could she have met him before? It was so hard to keep track of them all. However, it didn’t stop them from stopping by, leaving roses, cards, or even to get some of the things they had given her in ‘remembrance of that night’. Ginger let them into the house, and led them in the right direction saying, “And if you please, take only what is yours.” And then she would check them at the door, and that didn’t stop a few of them from being fresh.
               Cassandra used to sit across where Ginger was staring. She had even made a strong pot of coffee out of habit. Maybe I won’t take on another tenant. I think I can pretty much manage on my own. Ginger thought with a sigh. There wasn’t much else to do, and she was expecting Cassandra’s parents to drop by at any moment to collect on their daughter’s things, assuming that they wanted to keep them, if not Ginger would hold a yard sale. Might make enough to pay a couple of bills for the month. Cassandra had a lot of clothes, there had to be someone who could fit in them.
               Clearing her things from the table, and disposing of her breakfast into the trash, Ginger trudged upstairs, dodging boxes, and loose clothes. She figured she could at least go visit her bookstore or, maybe, see if her boss needed anything like a double latte, cappuccino, mocha with skim milk, or something.
               I don’t even think that’s a real thing… Ginger thought as she opened the door to her closet, and picked a nice shirt from the back, and a pair of jeans from the front before taking a shower.

          played by: Hades speech color: B3C963 siggy made by: Pip!

          Hades

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          Re: A Drabble By Any Other Name
          « Reply #5 on: March 13, 2016, 12:40:38 AM »
          LIFE AT HOME: CHARACTER CHRONICLES
          CHAPTER 1

          Ginger Entry #1
               Nothing really to do. Bored beyond measure! Sick and tired of the same things day in and day out. The ‘peaceful’ people from the East aren’t very peaceful. They are noisy, except the quiet one. Well, I suppose they are both quiet, but not when they are… how do they put it? Sparing? I can’t even read a book in peace, I don’t see how Altair does it! He just sits down somewhere with a book and doesn’t even look up when someone passes by, and that little Dwarf girl, Eir, seems to have a very strange obsession with him. She’s always lurking around the corner, and when Altair does pay attention to her, they seem to learn a lot. In that case I guess it isn’t a bad obsession.

          Denor likes spending his time outside. He often tells me that he cannot fathom the idea of not being able to speak since he has been doing it for so long. He likes to bother that old coot who likes to sit around and complain about everything, Kevlat I think is his name. Not to mention the only other woman in the house is always hanging about on the roof and looking wistfully off into the sunset each day, unless it is raining.

          And now I have been informed that we are moving into a new era? Some of them won’t make it, and the shadow that is roaming around is taking shape, so is another and then there is Denor’s offspring. What is my life coming to? I should just indulge in my own life and be grateful that I move on.


          Kevlat Entry #1
               ****, ****, ****. So that’s the game, is it? Well, I should have known you of all people would be the one to censor free speech. (Oh hush, Kevlat, you know I don’t like those words.) Well no one’s asking you to like them! (I can put you in a box!) I’d like to see you try! Go on, go ahead try. (Just continue, please.) Fine.

          Well, just the other day I was about to take an afternoon nap when that blonde brat Asta came swinging down off the roof. Nearly scared the soul out of me. She thought it was funny and placed her a** down next to me. The next thing she proceeded to do was to have a conversation with me. “So, you a smuggler? W’ll, I’m a thief. I think we have something in common.” She says to me. I glared at her, I thought the glare would have been enough to make her shut up, but she took it as encouragement instead, and prattled on about her Uncle, “Uncle Hurin runs a r’spectable business. I don’t know what the business is, though.

          Finally I let her have it, “I don’t care what your father’s business is.” I could have sworn my tone was less than friendly and she would finally go away. But alas, I was incorrect in my assumptions, “You know, I bet yer the person who brung that turquoise vAse all the way from the East.” I was finding the outdoors quite suffocating, so I glared, and growled for her to leave me alone and re-entered the house.


          *everyone talks funny to Kevlat...

          Niven Entry #1
               Oh I had a lovely time. It’s a wonder that Ginger doesn’t mention just how much time we really spend together wandering about the neighborhood. Though I must admit, with the lack of horses it couldn’t have been more romantic - No, I jest! There are no romantic inclinations between myself and Miss. Ginger. I find her absolutely fascinating the way she cannot remember a single thing about her past! Her Westron is near perfect, and I really do try to learn as much as I can from her. That Altair fellow has been helpful too, teaching myself and the taller of the Easterlings to speak.

          Sahib Hasim Entry #1
               A Boring people. I don’t much to say, I do not enjoy idle chatter. I prefer to stay here where there is silence.

          Barnabas Entry #1
               It isn’t for lack of trying! I do attempt to engage with more erratic behavior of the Hobbits, the way they consume food is a magical feat, one could watch them eat for days. Eventually it does become boring, but not on the level that that Half-Elf from the East seems to think. I think he thinks there are plenty of other things that Hobbits would be better off doing. Perhaps playing dead, like those possums. That cheek of bird who flies around annoying everyone decided it would be fun to terrorize the Hobbits as they conversed over luncheon the other day. It was thoroughly entertaining to watch them swipe at the creature with their chubby hands, and ‘oh my word’-ing about.

          Denor Entry #1
               I had no intention of scaring the living daylights out of the Hobbits! That bat-brained … knows nothing of what happened to provoke that attack! It was simply like this: I was minding my own business in the tulip tree in the backyard when these two foolish miniatures came and decided it was time to eat once more, even though they had eaten just a couple of hours ago. One of them looked up and saw me, then proceeded to comment that I was a disturbing creature. What was I supposed to do? I have never been the best when it comes to managing my anger, and when they insult me like that what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just let them go, I had to do something to teach them a lesson.

          Everett Entry #1
               That’s not completely fair of the silly bird. As it happens, I was merely mentioning that some creatures were annoying to have around, and were often disturbing delightful picnics. I am sure my friend Milo will concur. I had no idea that the Owl was in the tree, especially when the owl is nearly three times my own size. I ask you, would I really stoop to insulting something bigger than I was? No, I would not. Only if the being that was larger than I was insulting a close friend of mine! Please, let us keep our facts straight.

          Milo Entry #1
               Well, uhm, that is not quite how it really happened. What I recall is, Mr. Brandybuck did look up into the tree and glower at the fact that the large Owl was there. I did not find his company so displeasing. If anything I felt safe knowing he was there. I never dreamed that he would just swoop down and attack us as Mr. Brandybuck proceeded to speak of large insects how ugly some of them were. It never occurred to my mind that he was speaking of the Owl. That lovely Elf lady eventually came over and called off her bird, which I was completely grateful for!

          Yes, it did spoil a lovely luncheon, but I cannot complain about the rest of the day.


          Eir Entry #1
               I saw the whole thing! Denor went ‘Woosh!’ and , ‘Swooooosh!’ And, and, and then he dived at Mr. Milo and Mr. Brandybuck! It was funny to watch for a bit, then they both started running back to the house. I was outside writing in my journal when it happened and recorded every bit that I saw! I even drew little stick figures at the bottom of the page to represent what was going on, would you like to see? They are wonderful, the Hobbits. But, they do eat a lot, and Mr. Thorin just shakes his head. I tried asking him about it one day, when they were discussing the different types of sheep’s wool - well, actually, Mr. Milo was talking about sheep’s wool, and Mr. Brandybuck was sleeping - but Mr. Thorin didn’t really have anything to say, he just said, ‘Let them be.’

          So I did… and so I have! I don’t really bother Mr. Thorin that much… he doesn’t seem like a nice fellow.


          wip


          "This is a test
          This is a test
          This is a test"
          « Last Edit: March 15, 2016, 04:27:20 AM by Hades »

          Kevlat

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          Re: A Drabble By Any Other Name
          « Reply #6 on: September 20, 2016, 05:11:47 AM »
          COMING SOON TO A DRABBLE NEAR YOU
          I WANNA WRITE A WESTERN
          CAST
          Oliver as Oliver Guinniss
          Qui-Li Bai as Sheriff Zhao
          Everett Brandybuck as Reverend Collins
          Ginger as Trader Joe
          Ning as Ringo
          Asta as Little Fox
          Idhrenion as Running Bear
          Radagast as The Stranger
          Sawda as Susie "Little Tyke" Furlow
          Bain as Logan Johnson
          Kevlat as Elijah "That Old Geezer" Jones
          Thorin Oakenshield as Daemon Mathews


          Keep an eye out for this exciting new story on a whim!
          « Last Edit: September 20, 2016, 05:13:11 AM by Kevlat »
          speech color code: 6FB4C9

          played by Hades[/i][/color]

          Wei-Tao Ning

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          Iron Chef.
          « Reply #7 on: August 11, 2017, 11:28:45 PM »
          Living on a ship was the life for him. At least, he thought so. It beat trying to appease masters in monasteries, and being yelled at by incompetent cooks! Instead he was fussed at by people who hated seafood, and had allergies to certain things, and claimed they had gotten food poisoning from the chef. Now, Ning would neither confirm nor deny that that was a distinct possibility. In all of his career as a Corsair he had come across so many types of people, and other chefs, who have rubbed him the wrong way. As Ning sat in the galley on top of the counter, peeling potatoes; he let his mind wander to a place he rarely let it wander. The past.

          There were several reasons that he didn’t allow his mind to wander back. First: his love. She had taught him how to cook, and he had taught her how to fight. But, that love had been unrequited. A sad story, really, one that could wait to be told. Second: his first best friend. Another sad story, but one that had marked his journey to the Staunch Harlot. Third: The chef of the King’s Watch. Oh how it made his blood boil to think of Yan-Lyn. The turtle-necked chef was far too pleased with himself to belong on the earth. And yet, he had every right to be pleased with himself. He was a phenomenal chef! Ning recalled their first meeting…

          “This soup tastes like it was made with scum from the bottom of a captain’s arse.” Yan-Lyn bellowed from his seat. He was surrounded by his crewmates, and the captain was at the head of the table; he was the first to burst out in laughter, the rest following suit. “Ja, ja! Ha ha! Captain’s arse!”
          “Bring out the cook!” Yan-Lyn instructed a waitress.


          The waitresses (a small, scrawny looking young woman who only had the job at the inn because of Ning) ran back to the kitchen. “One of the corsairs wants to see you.” She told him. Ning set down his laddle, and peered out the window into the dining room. Yan-Lyn (as formerly described) was a fat man with the neck of a turtle. It was impossible not to hear him; even from where Ning was in the kitchen. Ning made a face and turned back to his pot, stirring it slowly. “Ning, please. Before he gets up and comes in here.” The waitress urged. The chef said nothing, only continued stirring the pot. The waitress (Nina was her name) groaned. “You’re going to get in trouble for this one day, then we’ll both be out of a job.”
          “I can always find another.” Ning answered, tasting his creation.
          “And what about me?” Nina asked.
          “You could come with me.” Ning offered, not really sure if he meant it or not.
          “Well I- Oh no...” Everyone in the inn heard it. The sound of a chair with too much weight on it being pushed back. It made everyone turn and look, even Ning looked out the server’s window. Yan-Lyn was getting up, his bowl in hand. Once he had bulldozed over the chair, he started towards the kitchen. Ning’s eyes grew wide as he took in the man’s size. He was well over a foot taller than Ning, and his girth was - well - about one Ning sideways across. (Was he really that large, well, no, but but when you’re only five-six, and someone is clearly six-three or so, it is easy to imagine the man being the size of an elephant, or perhaps it was just Ning’s wild imagination).

          “Oh! Ning I warned you.” Nina tugged at his shirt to get his attention. Ning came out of his daydream and ducked behind the island just before the Yan-Lyn slapped the bowl down, his soup sloshing all over the countertop. “Where is the cook? He is not qualified for the title of head chef.” The man shouted. Ning held his hands over ears. Er, confrontation of this sort was not the sort he liked (at the time, that was  quickly to change).

          Nina stood very still, then calmly she said, “He went out for a moment, but he’ll be back momentarily.” Yan-Lyn growled as if trying to decide if he wanted to believe her or not, but Nina stood her ground. “Very well, I shall wait here till he returns.” And he remained staring at the staff, and the staff at him. This went on for a solid minute before Mrs. Ritter bellowed, “STEAK MEDIUM-RARE, MORE BREAD FOR TABLE THREE, TARA CHECK ON THE TABLES.” And was gone. Everyone returned to their duty and Ning continued to cower behind the island. Nina turned and walked out of the kitchen. Ning breathed in and started to inch his way towards the backdoor. He continued to look back at the fat man, making sure that he wasn’t in his line of sight, and crawled swiftly to hide behind the crates close to the door. Here, he stood quietly; reaching for the handle. And just as his hand was on the handle the man called, “You there! Are you the head of this kitchen?”

          Ning cringed visibly as he turned to face the demon. “Yes sir, I am.” It was only half true, the whole truth was: he was filling in for a friend who couldn’t make it, but who trusted him to run his kitchen with equal efficiency. “Come here and taste this soup.” The man demanded. Ning swallowed hard as he approached, focusing on the soup bowl and the mess that was on the counter.

          That was probably what started the ball rolling. The fact that the man no respect for anyone else’s cooking, and just threw it around if he didn’t like it. “Taste this, and tell me what you think.” He pushed the bowl closer. The whole thing looked unappetizing now. Bits of crab and potato clung to the side of the bowl, and the white, soupy base looked more like a white lake of water. But just as NIng was about to follow through (it would have been rude to not to) the Innkeeper himself popped his head through the door, “Ning, get on with that soup. We have customers waiting.” And the look on Yan-Lyn’s face changed. “Oh you made the soup, eh? Well here!” He threw the soup bowl in Ning’s face and laughed. If ever there had been a look of shock and surprise so full of those elements, it was Ning’s face. It quickly turned over to anger, “If you think you can make a better soup, I dare you!” Ning replied, setting the bowl down on the countertop gently; his hands shaking. Yah-Lyn laughed, “I’m the best chef on the  sea and on land! From what I have tasted today, you are not worth my time.”
          “He’s a great chef!” Nina piped up, standing beside Ning, hands on her hips, “If you’re as good as you boast, then you’ll be quick to strike down anyone opposing you! Besides, this isn’t Ning’s recipe, this is his friend’s.”

          Yan-Lyn squinted through his beady eyes at Nina, then at Ning and back again. “Alright, I accept your challenge. Bring your best recipes. We’ll meet here tomorrow evening. Three courses.”   
          [/font]
          #7F3D3F ||| #976635

          Ginger Dúnhere

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          Re: A Drabble By Any Other Name
          « Reply #8 on: November 24, 2019, 01:37:36 AM »
          Been a while...

          MEMORIES LONG FORGOTTEN

          The pounding on the side of the wagon was loud, and jarring. Ginger woke with a start, her heart leaping to her throat. Had she overslept again? The thought caused her panic, and she looked to the morning sunlight as someone whisked open the bright yellow curtain. Blocking the sunlight - just slightly - was a Dwarf. His slightly bald head glinted, and it took Ginger raising her hand to shade her eyes to see the steely glare of ice blue eyes.

          Yorik wasn’t someone you crossed. Not in this business - whatever this business was. His eyes boring into hers caused her to sit up, and rub the sleep away. What was he waiting for? Ginger yawned slightly, and looked down at her clothes. Horror filled her as she realized she had slept in her outfit from last night. “Too tired to change, I see. Those wrinkles will take decades to remove.” Said the Dwarf, his glare intensifying, “You know the punishment.” He said, letting the flap of the caravan go; disappearing to make sure no one else made the same mistake.

          It was foolish! All of it, simply foolish! All of her sensibilities were affronted by this Dwarf, this cruel man who had no business knocking her over the head, and basically kidnapping her. Had she tried to escape? Of course, what sensible person wouldn’t? Ginger had spent many long nights plotting the perfect get-away, only to be stopped by one of the other performers. How often she had dreamed of the punishment that came from someone who managed to escape the hell she was living. There were so many rules. Ones like “No sleeping in performance clothes” being one of them. The punishment? You had to wash and iron everyone’s laundry for a week.

          Rather silly. She thought. Why not just your own clothes?

          Ginger wasn’t even her real name. It was one she had been given by The Ringmaster (the Dwarf named Yorik). Said it would draw more attention. An Elf without an Elvish name. Her job was to stand there, and let knives be thrown at her! She did this fairly well. The Knife thrower himself was very good at his job. They were all entertainers. They gave shows to the masses, and for a very steep price (of which very little was given to the people putting their lives in danger), private entertainers.

          Just as Ginger was pulling her boots on, the wagon curtain was pulled back. She looked up, and this time it was Red. No particular reason, though. He was a hearty brunette, built like an ox. He had soft brown eyes, a charming smile. He also happened to be the Knife Thrower. “Good morning, Red.” Ginger greeted. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t express anything. Just. Looked at her. She felt herself blush slightly and stumbled over her next words,“I know, I… I slept in the outfit. I was just s-so tired, I was not thinking.” That seemed to be usual for her. Not thinking. At least of late. Which was unusual for her. She wasn’t normally a scatterbrained nobody.

          But she had once been somebody. Somebody with a family who loved and cared for her. Who hadn’t come looking for her outside of her home. Had they even noticed she was missing? How long had they searched for her? Elvish memories were long, and they often took loss to the most extreme sometimes. Ginger in particular had taken the loss in her own way. She remembered clearly the words spoken to her by Heidi (the Fortune Teller), “Mourn for what has been. In your own way. Then, when you are ready, you will know.

          Ha. A lot of comfort those words were now, when she was beyond mourning. Still, she longed to be back with her family!

          Ginger must have been staring at something because the sudden movement of Red caused her to start. He had gone from the wagon. A true man of very little words. Still, they somehow got on. 
          « Last Edit: November 24, 2019, 01:38:04 AM by Ginger Dúnhere »

          played by: Hades speech color: B3C963 siggy made by: Pip!

          Ginger Dúnhere

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          • Alias: Hades
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          Re: A Drabble By Any Other Name
          « Reply #9 on: December 03, 2019, 06:47:17 AM »
          MEMORIES LONG FORGOTTEN II

          The sun had been sitting on the pine tops when Ginger emerged from the wagon. It’s golden rays warmed her cheeks, and for a moment she thought about smiling. The sky was pale blue, and there were large fluffy clouds towards the east that bespoke of rain to come in the later days. But for now, she was satisfied that the green of the wood was warm and welcoming. Like her home back in Mirkwood. The leaves would be a stirring green, and King Thranduil would be hosting those marvelous parties, perhaps. But she wouldn’t know. She was so far from home. Farther than she had ever been in her life.

          As she walked towards the commune area, she nodded a greeting to those whom she knew would return it. Which wasn’t many. In the company alone there were several people from all sorts of races across Middle Earth. From Elves, to Hobbits, to Dwarves. There were short men, and tall women, and peculiar animals from just about everywhere. Everyone was set about their duties, each to their own profit. There were sellers readying their carts to go make a penny or two in the town.

          Good morning, Ginger, dear. Give me a hand with these baskets, would you, love?” Heidi greeted as she struggled to lift a heavy basket into her cart. Ginger smiled. Heidi was the only woman who could coax a smile from the Elf. Well, almost. Heidi’s steed, a strong little pony called Leopold, whinnied at the sight of Ginger, swishing his tail and stomping his hoof.

          Yes of course, Leopold. I’ll come and say hi first!” Ginger rubbed his soft nose. Leopold nuzzled her hand affectionately.

          Pah! You spoil him with your affection, girl. Every time he sees you coming around the corner he’s got to have you rub his nose. Must be the charm of Elves, at least the female ones…” There were two other Elves in the company. When Ginger had been kidnapped - and it was a kidnapping - she had tried to find companionship with her ilk, only to be snubbed. They wanted nothing to do with her, and she figured they saw her as some sort of … discredit. Elves, Ginger knew, had long memories, and even longer lives. To do a disservice to an Elf could lead to a lot of trouble.

          That’s where Heidi stepped in. “Ginger, a little help, if you don’t mind.” Ginger snapped out of her memories and rushed to help Heidi lift the heavy basket. “What’s in here?” She asked, resisting the urge to lift the lid. “Oh, just some stuff to sell in town… Say, why don’t you come with me?” Heidi asked, a gleam in her eye.

          You know full well that I can’t.” Ginger said astonished. Word would have gotten around that she slept in her performance clothes. And everyone knew what that meant, “I have chores of my own to do -
          Chores’mores! Helping a little old lady in her time of need is just as important. It’s starting to get where I can’t lift the baskets out like I aught.” Heidi was waving her hands around as she walked to retrieve her traveling shawl from another stack of baskets, “Put these in the cart will you, and be careful, I’ll be right back.” And Heidi disappeared into her tent.


          Ginger had just finished loading the last of the baskets when Heidi returned. From her tent she had brought blankets, and a shawl. “Well, don’t just stand there, lead Leopold towards the town!” Without hesitating, GInger grabbed hold of the lead, and together they proceeded out of the camp.

          The scent of pine, and the cool breeze of spring brought a rush of memories back to Ginger. She longed to run with her sisters through the forest just to climb the highest tree they could; where they would sit for hours and talk about everything. And, with Heidi walking beside her, she felt something she hadn’t felt since the day she was kidnapped. A sort of confidence she hadn’t realized she had been lacking. It didn’t last long, however. The Dwarf who had woken GInger was now standing in their way, he had a smug smile on his face. “Good morning, Heidi, you old hag. And where might ye be off to?

          Yorik had a way of making you uncomfortable, and he used it to his advantage very often. Ginger squirmed on the inside, and when she glanced at Heidi, she saw the old woman wasn’t phased. How brave did you have to be? The Elf wondered, to stand up to someone so dominating?

          Why, Good morning to you, Yorik. A lovely day for a walk, huh? Could do you some good.” Heidi showed now fear, she stood in front of Leopold, her posture relaxed, and at total ease. “Aye, I could, and so could the young Elf, don’t you think?” Yorik didn’t take his eyes off Heidi for a moment. “Aye, and that’s what we’re doing. Going for a walk to clear our heads. And probably make a penny or two.” Yorik didn’t back down. “Heidi. You know the Elf cannot leave her duties undone before nightfall. She must stay to take care of them.

          Heidi looked at Ginger, her eyes inspecting her from top to bottom. “Now how do you figure that? She looks as though she couldn’t find her way to the nearest river without some help.

          Yorik smirked, “I think she can find her way just fine.

          Well, you know best. As always Yorik. But I might not be so lucky! We just arrived here yesterday, you know. And it was dark. I wouldn’t know a left turn from a right. Elves have better eyesight in the dark anyways, you know that.” Heidi explained, stroking Leopold’s nose.

          Yorik put his hands on his hips, “And what is wrong with taking Remus or Heim?” Ginger knew these weren’t their real names, anymore than hers was ‘Ginger’. But, because Yorik lacked the ability to pronounce Elvish names properly, he simply nicknamed them. To Ginger it was more like re-naming. Like something you do to claim possession.

          Heidi thought for a moment before turning to Leopold, “Leopold doesn’t like them. He kicks and bites them, why should I put them through that? He likes little Ginger here, and Ginger is who I am talking with me. Now, we’ll be late to set up in a good spot if we don’t get moving!” Heidi grabbed the lead from Ginger and walked with confidence past Yorik. Ginger followed on the other side of the cart when her name was called.

          Yorik’s steely gaze followed her. She didn’t look back. If she had, she would have seen pure anger in his gaze.

          Once in the forest, the cool breeze picked up carrying the scent of the pine, and fresh dirt, and Ginger allowed herself to relax.
          « Last Edit: December 03, 2019, 06:49:37 AM by Ginger Dúnhere »

          played by: Hades speech color: B3C963 siggy made by: Pip!

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