The author stared at the typewriter, and the squirrel adjusted her glasses as she stared blankly at a piece of writing. The squirrel swiveled her chair around to look at "the shelf", where small wooden statues of original characters were placed after she, with help from above, knocked down the pedestal of a game that had consumed her time so much and likely did harm to her mind. The role-playing characters were on this shelf.
The squirrel scampered away into the massive hall: where marble statues of original characters posed in splendor, because she loved them very much for how far they had developed over the years and wanted to share them in ways a game could never allow.
A warrior elf-maid was frozen in time with her hammer swung in a broad swing, her breastplate donned and her expression fierce. Another depicted a pensive looking elf-captain, worn by the years of long suffering, but he still retained his kind demeanor. Three elf-maids were stuck in a frozen dance: the wife of the elf-captain, their daughter, and the captain's sister.
The squirrel scampered over to a couple of other statues, as these had caught her attention (there were many statues in this white space). Two elf-men stood together: one with a sword planted in the ground, a goofy and playful smile on his face, and another looked more solemn as he held his arm out for a hawk to perch on, a staff in his hand.
Brothers.
And then to the last statue: the character that had started this whole trend.
Noble in bearing and great in skill with sword and chisel, but a mirror image stood at his back: the same person, but his face was scarred on the left side and his eye dead.
The squirrel's whiskers twitched and she turned to face the group of five elves that suddenly appeared behind her. They looked at the creature, their faces expressed their desire to know.
"We have not even left our first home yet. When will the tale continue, so all our children may exist?" The father of the first character asked softly.
The squirrel plodded her way over and she hugged the elf's foot. "I don't know…I lost inspiration. It all came to an abrupt halt, and I was so close to finishing that one chapter."
The elves bowed their heads.
"One day, my lovelies…One day, the story shall continue."
A/N In Memory of "The Songs Are Fairer Elsewhere", my first fan fic ever posted, and one of my gems.
The whole OC building from roleplaying in the Lord of the Rings Online is what brought them into existence, and by extension what brought me to making an account on here. Four years of character development were invested, and given circumstances of being unable to tell all that information in role play, I wanted to share the stories of my role play character's ancestors/family relations, from the start of elven existence all the way to the fourth age of Tolkien's world.
Sadly, it's been a year since I last updated it, all due to a bad writer's block and drift of interests. And given I don't play the game anymore...all those characters have become a memory, melancholy almost, given the way I had to leave.
Yes, I will admit this is almost saying "plz read so I can updates, gets inspired, etc.", I have a very bad tendency of doing that, along with attention seeking. But I just felt like writing this down, given this thing is focused on stuck stories I have.