Darkness and light
by ME
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Disclaimer: Yet again, funnily enough, i own none of these characters
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The night was dark and stormy. Windows rattled in the gale. The grass bent and the oaks swept from side to side. Bullets of rain came thundering down on the rooftops, tearing thatch, and pounding through the soil. A tumultuous torrent was tearing through the town. Gushing through the streets and filling the valleys.
It was this terrible storm that a hobbit took shelter from. He ran in through the door, flinching at every crash of thunder. He discarded his soaked cloak at the entrance and bolted into the bedroom. He pounced onto the bed and wrapped a thick quilt around his chilled and trembling shoulders. All was relatively silent as the thunder eased a little. Pippin shivered as water dripped from his curly locks hanging over his face. His normally cheerful disposition was drowned out with terror, his face pale and his voice gone. The silence was short-lived. A loud roar bolted the house, shaking the furniture and increasing Pippin's panic. He drew the blankets round his face, huddled in a bundle attempting to shield himself from the dreadful foe outside. He shuddered with every blow of the storm. Barrages of blasts roaring through the room.
Pippin shot under the covers, shaking in fright at each sound of the storm. He stayed there for quite a while. Eyes clenched shut, arms wrapped around himself, biting his lip with every bludgeon the storm brought to his senses. The storm eased again, and he opened his eyes. It would have been relief that swept through his body. Instead, he was filled with fear as he realized he was in complete darkness. He had two options; stay under the covers in the safe yet menacing abyss of darkness, or rise outside the covers and face the terror of the storm. Pippin was not one for thought, so he didn't. He huddled all the tighter in his ball under the covers. He still shuddered as the wind blew through the windows and under the door, but he grew less nervous. It was night after all. He was a growing hobbit lad, and as all hobbit lads, he fell asleep quite quickly when covered in a quilt. Pippin did not sleep easily, but he slept nonetheless. A night full of beasts romping through his thoughts, tearing through the valley and ripping away at his security.
He woke the next morning to find himelf splayed on the floor. Blankets twisted around his legs. Pillows thrown from one side of the room to the other. His head rested on an oddly knotted quilt. He raised himself, stretched out the muscles he strained in the night, and wandered over to the window. It was odd how nature worked. After a night of complete and utter terror, the sun rose. The valley was all the more green for the storm. Flowers blossomed, water droplets glistened through the fields and every hobbit had curlier hair. It occurred to him that all those "mettyfors" Frodo waffled on about were true. It wasn't all about deep philosophy. Finally, Pippin could relate to it. His world was his life. And now it had meaning further than the beauty of the flowers, or the glee of running through the meadows. He knew what must be sacrificed, endured, given and taken for what he held dear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
this is a one off, please review
NOW!
by ME
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Disclaimer: Yet again, funnily enough, i own none of these characters
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The night was dark and stormy. Windows rattled in the gale. The grass bent and the oaks swept from side to side. Bullets of rain came thundering down on the rooftops, tearing thatch, and pounding through the soil. A tumultuous torrent was tearing through the town. Gushing through the streets and filling the valleys.
It was this terrible storm that a hobbit took shelter from. He ran in through the door, flinching at every crash of thunder. He discarded his soaked cloak at the entrance and bolted into the bedroom. He pounced onto the bed and wrapped a thick quilt around his chilled and trembling shoulders. All was relatively silent as the thunder eased a little. Pippin shivered as water dripped from his curly locks hanging over his face. His normally cheerful disposition was drowned out with terror, his face pale and his voice gone. The silence was short-lived. A loud roar bolted the house, shaking the furniture and increasing Pippin's panic. He drew the blankets round his face, huddled in a bundle attempting to shield himself from the dreadful foe outside. He shuddered with every blow of the storm. Barrages of blasts roaring through the room.
Pippin shot under the covers, shaking in fright at each sound of the storm. He stayed there for quite a while. Eyes clenched shut, arms wrapped around himself, biting his lip with every bludgeon the storm brought to his senses. The storm eased again, and he opened his eyes. It would have been relief that swept through his body. Instead, he was filled with fear as he realized he was in complete darkness. He had two options; stay under the covers in the safe yet menacing abyss of darkness, or rise outside the covers and face the terror of the storm. Pippin was not one for thought, so he didn't. He huddled all the tighter in his ball under the covers. He still shuddered as the wind blew through the windows and under the door, but he grew less nervous. It was night after all. He was a growing hobbit lad, and as all hobbit lads, he fell asleep quite quickly when covered in a quilt. Pippin did not sleep easily, but he slept nonetheless. A night full of beasts romping through his thoughts, tearing through the valley and ripping away at his security.
He woke the next morning to find himelf splayed on the floor. Blankets twisted around his legs. Pillows thrown from one side of the room to the other. His head rested on an oddly knotted quilt. He raised himself, stretched out the muscles he strained in the night, and wandered over to the window. It was odd how nature worked. After a night of complete and utter terror, the sun rose. The valley was all the more green for the storm. Flowers blossomed, water droplets glistened through the fields and every hobbit had curlier hair. It occurred to him that all those "mettyfors" Frodo waffled on about were true. It wasn't all about deep philosophy. Finally, Pippin could relate to it. His world was his life. And now it had meaning further than the beauty of the flowers, or the glee of running through the meadows. He knew what must be sacrificed, endured, given and taken for what he held dear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
this is a one off, please review
NOW!