A White Blank Page
A collection of drabbles written for the instadrabbling sessions on the SWG Discord. Attempts made to keep them at exactly 100 words.
1.
Prompt: borne, fled, forest, strong 1(100 words)
He had borne the grief, he had not fled or even flinched at the sight of his father's broken and bloodied body. He knew what he had to do.
Thranduil had taken up Oropher's fallen sword, Galion had raised the tumbled and torn standard and together they had rallied the forest realm's remaining warriors in a renewed attack on the armored hordes that howled and gibbered at them under the darkening sky.
He was unharmed, unbent, unbowed. Grief tore at his heart but the time for that would come later.
He must remain strong.
For himself, his people, his son.
1a.
Prompt: borne, fled, forest, strong 2 (100 words)
He had borne the troubled looks from his companions, when he had sought his King's leave to search for Turin.
The boy had fled, before Beleg could speak to him, find him, reproach him, comfort him.
He shook his head. He was a boy no more. Turin was a man. He should know better than to flee, leave the forest that was his home, the King who loved him like a son.
Know better than to leave Beleg with not so much as a word.
All knew the strength of Saeros' dislike.
He would find Turin. Bring him home again.
2.
Prompt: river, book, scar, hollow (101 words)
The river crossing is easy, Amrod said.
The ford is simple to find. Amras claimed.
Bloody well not, in this pouring rain, Caranthir fumed.
Blast his brothers for their rotten advice. The afternoon's torrential rain had caught him by surprise. Water flowed in cataracts down the mountain. The river was a rushing, roiling, muddy mess.
No bridge. Banks overrun. He somehow found this hollow to shelter in but he'd set off a rockslide to get to it. The cut on his forehead was surely going to scar.
All to get this blasted book to Azaghâl.
He should have sent the twins.
3.
Prompt: binomial, chocolate, world, tree (101 words)
"We finish today's review with determination of binomial coefficients." Maitimo stopped chalking the equation on the board to turn and frown at Findekano groaning. "You need to know this, Finno. Exams are just a week away."
Findekano groaned again, dropping his head melodramatically onto his folded arms. "There's a whole world outside and I am cooped up in here day after day. I'm sick of history, linguistics, coefficients, free radicals." A scowl accompanied his words.
"Don't climb out the window and shimmy down the tree again. Grandfather saw you last time."
Findekano huffed in annoyance.
Maitimo smiled and opened his desk drawer. "I have chocolate."
4.
Prompt: star, martyr, box and sunset (102 words)
They ripped the banner with his family's star on it, as he watched, pinned in place by rough hands, reeking breaths assaulting his senses, the forearm across his throat cutting off anything more than a strangled growl.
They would not make a martyr of him, Maedhros thought, struggling against his captors. He kicked then threw his head back to smack the orc that was choking him. But he was boxed in, no matter how he struggled there were always more, until he was brought to the ground, trussed and tied.
He glimpsed the sunset before the blow came and all went black.
5.
Prompt: bleak, snow, scurry, breath (100 words)
The horizon was no less bleak, days into this journey. Darkness lit only by the light of the stars above, dimmed by clouds and swirling snow.
Fingon lowered his head to keep the snowflakes from getting in his eyes. They had lost their crystalline beauty within hours of his setting foot upon the ice. Cruel and cold, masking the danger that lay below.
No more scurrying to cross the brutal ice as swiftly as they could. Death lay that way. Slow and steady, holding his breath in anticipation of every step.
Waiting for the cracking of the ice to come.
6.
Prompt: Clash, wind, rough, dim (100 words)
The clash of swords rang out around him, swirling bodies and raised voices, fair and foul.
Fingon's guard stayed close, determined to keep their king secure.
The sky above them dimmed, ash and smoke from the towering peaks of Thangorodrim drifting on a foul wind, blotting out the brightness of the sun.
Thrust and parry, the sickening thud of metal meeting bone, slashing through muscle and sinew, only to meet the next assault, again and again.
From the west a fresh wind blew and Fingon heard the horns, saw the faint glint of sun on spears.
His brother had come.
7.
Prompt: fragrant, bustle, refused, hastened (101 words)
Caranthir had hastened to her camp as soon as word came to him that the Haladin were leaving.
He arrived to find the camp bustling with activity, horses laden with baggage, the survivors moving with determination.
He slid off his stallion and questioned the first passing woman for Haleth's whereabouts.
Her refusal of his offer still stung. It was given freely—the land, the protection, the supplies to build a new home for herself and her people. He expected nothing in return.
Except perhaps her company.
The fragrance of her hair still lingered in his memory long after she was gone.
8.
Prompt: heart, stroke, encounter, fire (100 words)
Nerdanel pounded the metal, each stroke an attempt to find the rhythm that usually accompanied her work at the forge.
But not today.
Today the strokes were uneven, too fast, stuttering just as her heart had when she had chanced to encounter Fëanaro leaving the workshop as she arrived.
They had exchanged few words but she had seen the fire in his eyes and the answering one that flared deep in her at the sight of him.
She had promised Father she would get this done, keep the workshop functioning while he was gone.
But her thoughts were her own.
9.
Prompt: seedling, last, rekindle, shadow (100 words)
Sam had watched the seedling carefully, the last from his treasured box. The box that had miraculously made it all the way to Mordor and back with him.
Legolas always claimed Elves did not have magic. They were just different from Men, Dwarves and Hobbits, he said. It just seemed like magic.
But Sam was sure he was wrong. There was magic in the phial the Lady gave Frodo, in the silken ropes the Galadhrim wove.
In the box of earth and seeds and hope that Galadriel had given him. It had rekindled life and pushed the shadowed memories away.