Title: Sword and Shadow
Author: Andraste
Improv: #1 (vision ridiculous tail reason)
Rating: PG, if that
Type: Pre-slash, Merry and Pippin
Archive: Yes to the LOTRImprov archive; others please ask.
She was something from a tale, or a song, or a vision. Tall and fair she stood before them, shining and silent she descended the steps, and soft light shone from everywhere and nowhere all about her. Before her, even more so than before the other elves who moved with fluid grace among the trees, a dirty tearstained hobbit was a ridiculous figure, surely. Even the finest tailoring Brandy Hall had to offer was shabby beside the flowing gossamer garments which looked as if they had grown on their wearers. Even the future Master of Buckland, accustomed to ceremony and elaborate custom since he was a babe, found his own words crude and stumbling compared to the graceful elven speeches of welcome.
When she looked into his eyes and spoke liquid words of greeting, he felt her mind touch his, embrace and weave tendrils through his thoughts, knowing him more deeply and intimately than anyone ever had before. Without speech she told him of his innermost desires, offered him both things he knew he wanted and things he dared not admit, even to himself, as objects of desire. She showed him a life where as Master of Buckland he was admired and adored, respected as a leader and a friend; every hobbit clapped him on the back, every lass blushed and curtsied, and children's eyes glowed as he passed by.
He walked through fields glowing golden with harvest, gardens rich and green, and groves where trees dipped heavy boughs laden with fruit before him. He saw himself returning to the Hall a hero, riding tall and grand on a man-sized horse with braided mane and swishing tail. He saw himself enter his sitting-room to find a fire laid and a mug of ale and a hot supper waiting on the table - and most dear of all to his eyes, his Pippin laughing by the hearth, arms open and waiting, undiluted love and joy in his sparkling eyes.
She gave him every reason to long for the Shire and his beloved, crowded, noisy home where aunts gossiped and uncles chuckled, and cousins tumbled laughing up and down the halls all day. Every reason to cast aside his sword and farewell his companions, the strange and the familiar, to take his cousin's hand and return before the peril grew too great. Every reason to put aside the quest and leave it to those mightier and wiser and more powerful than himself.
Yet he knew he could make no other choice than to go on. He thought of Ringwraiths and Orcs and felt for his sword-hilt, as he had become accustomed to do before sleep now; he should know where to put his hand in an instant if any evil should threaten. And as he listened to Pippin's steady breathing an arm's length away, he knew that he had the best of all reasons to go on.
Author: Andraste
Improv: #1 (vision ridiculous tail reason)
Rating: PG, if that
Type: Pre-slash, Merry and Pippin
Archive: Yes to the LOTRImprov archive; others please ask.
She was something from a tale, or a song, or a vision. Tall and fair she stood before them, shining and silent she descended the steps, and soft light shone from everywhere and nowhere all about her. Before her, even more so than before the other elves who moved with fluid grace among the trees, a dirty tearstained hobbit was a ridiculous figure, surely. Even the finest tailoring Brandy Hall had to offer was shabby beside the flowing gossamer garments which looked as if they had grown on their wearers. Even the future Master of Buckland, accustomed to ceremony and elaborate custom since he was a babe, found his own words crude and stumbling compared to the graceful elven speeches of welcome.
When she looked into his eyes and spoke liquid words of greeting, he felt her mind touch his, embrace and weave tendrils through his thoughts, knowing him more deeply and intimately than anyone ever had before. Without speech she told him of his innermost desires, offered him both things he knew he wanted and things he dared not admit, even to himself, as objects of desire. She showed him a life where as Master of Buckland he was admired and adored, respected as a leader and a friend; every hobbit clapped him on the back, every lass blushed and curtsied, and children's eyes glowed as he passed by.
He walked through fields glowing golden with harvest, gardens rich and green, and groves where trees dipped heavy boughs laden with fruit before him. He saw himself returning to the Hall a hero, riding tall and grand on a man-sized horse with braided mane and swishing tail. He saw himself enter his sitting-room to find a fire laid and a mug of ale and a hot supper waiting on the table - and most dear of all to his eyes, his Pippin laughing by the hearth, arms open and waiting, undiluted love and joy in his sparkling eyes.
She gave him every reason to long for the Shire and his beloved, crowded, noisy home where aunts gossiped and uncles chuckled, and cousins tumbled laughing up and down the halls all day. Every reason to cast aside his sword and farewell his companions, the strange and the familiar, to take his cousin's hand and return before the peril grew too great. Every reason to put aside the quest and leave it to those mightier and wiser and more powerful than himself.
Yet he knew he could make no other choice than to go on. He thought of Ringwraiths and Orcs and felt for his sword-hilt, as he had become accustomed to do before sleep now; he should know where to put his hand in an instant if any evil should threaten. And as he listened to Pippin's steady breathing an arm's length away, he knew that he had the best of all reasons to go on.