This I gotta try:

[rabidsamfan]

The "Stump the Author" meme -- I gacked it from cara_chapel because it looks like fun.

A-- go to my LOTR fanfiction and pick out a line or two from one of my stories.
B-- I will respond with which story I think it's from.
C-- I'll write a scene (in this case, a ficlet of 100-400 words) for the LOTR characters of your choice with the plot point of your choice to anyone who stumps me.
D-- If I get more than ten responses, I will do the first ten ficlets who stump me.

Obviously, you'd do well to pick something challenging, but unless it's really unique, I'm going to say it should be more than five words.

Have at thee!

Comments

[cara-chapel.livejournal.com]

Frodo smiled at him, a little curiously. “That was clever, Sam,” he said. “Whatever made you think of it?”

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

Gah! This is harder than it looks! ... *desperately tries to think through all those words*

"Unlucky"?

[cara-chapel.livejournal.com]

"At the Foot of Sarn Gebir." Sam has figured out how to start a fire instead of the damp.

I would like a ficlet of a missing moment set in the MoS-verse. Or if you prefer not to dabble there, a moment where Sam confronts Boromir over some issue pre-Amon Hen, and faces him down.

^____^

[cara-chapel.livejournal.com]

/s/instead/in spite , as the vi geeks would say.

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

Your wish is my command!

[lame-pegasus.livejournal.com]

This should be not too difficult:

They heard the horns first, and ran to help fight, but by the time they reached the village the celebrations had begun.

[lame-pegasus.livejournal.com]

Oh... and I would die to see a drabble or mini-ficlet with Bilbo and Lily. There is no romance required, of course. But Bilbo met Lily on the market and gave her the mirror as a gift for his 111th birthday - why did he do that?

[elasg.livejournal.com]

He’d tried wading into a stream and that was the most ninnyhammered idea he’d ever had in his life, but the water hadn’t been cold enough even in January.

Muahahahaha...

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

That's the Fell Winter. (I just reread it because you had translated it so nicely.) Try again! I'm sure you can stump me.

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

*blush* I'm not likely to forget that fic! It's Speed the Plough, or Plow, or however I was spelling it that day.

Try again!

[elasg.livejournal.com]

Heheheh! But I love that fic! It's absolutely perfect and, I find, highly believable. ;) I will try again!

[elasg.livejournal.com]

OK, I will!

But his hand reached out and Rosie was there to take it, and Frodo smiled at both of them.

? Did I getcha?

[dreamflower]

"Now Frodo did laugh, but not unkindly."

[piratesmoon.livejournal.com]

Try this...

"He no longer needs a candle, not even when the moon is new"

R- (yes, it's me. ;)

[archerlass.livejournal.com]

"What's Yulefeast without a goose to share, Dad?" he'd ask me, if he were here.
:)

Set a year after "Passing"

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

The first few months were bad enough, but by spring Sam had gotten used to missing his mam. By summertime it seemed ordinary to be waking up in a silent smial, and eating a bread-and-butter breakfast with tea barely warm from the fire instead of having porridge and eggs and another cooking lesson to start his day. By the time the bright autumn days came in, and the trees were decked in riotous colors he'd stopped listening for her singing over mending by the evening fire – most nights anyways.

But then the first sharp bite of winter came, and a day bitter with the smell of the death of trees and flowers, with skies as gray as a witch's teeth and smoke lying smug and foul in the hollows of the Hill. Sam found himself all a-jitter, waiting for the sight of a pony-trap, his ears sharp for the sound of his name from a dozen throats or more, chivvying him from one hiding place to another. Only shame for the fright he'd given his father by running away before kept him at his work, raking the dead vines and leaves away from the vegetable rows, and laying down courses of last year's mulch to protect the bare earth from the coming snows.

It was getting cold, but he kept on working, unwilling to go down to Bagshot Row for his coat and muffler, and not entirely sure why. The kitchen was like to be warm, even if it didn't smell as nice with May still too addlepated to mind her baking so it didn't burn half the time. She cooked well enough, simple things at least, but she'd yet to turn out a cake that didn't need one side turned to the wall. Nothing came right in that kitchen without Mam there. Better to stay away as long as possible.

Suddenly Sam wanted crumble-cake. He dropped the rake and curled around his abruptly painful middle, letting the tears fall as he remembered his mother's arms around him, helping him steer the spoon through the batter. He could almost smell it, sweet and spicy with cinnamon from Mr. Bilbo's larder. It was her own special cake, the one she'd won a ribbon for at the Fair just after she married, and not even May knew how to make it. Only Sam. She'd taught him how for Mr. Frodo's sake, against the day that Sam would be up safe at Bag End all the time.

"I shouldn't ought to forget how," he whispered to his clenched fists. But he hadn't touched pot nor pan since his Mam died, and May wouldn't welcome him underfoot in the Gamgee kitchen, not now.

Which left Bag End.

Stumbling in his urgency, Sam headed for the smial, certain that his father would disapprove and equally sure that he had to ask. There were lights shining in the windows, like a welcome in the growing dusk. It took all his strength to knock politely, instead of banging on the door like an impatient wizard.

After a moment, the green door opened, and Bilbo was there, frowning a bit, but not like he was angry. He was wearing an apron, and the heady scent of gravy was all around him. Sam swallowed hard, waiting his turn to speak.

"What is it, Sam?" the old hobbit asked, just the way he always did, if Sam came to the front door.

"I want to make crumble cake in your kitchen," Sam said. "Try to make it, at least," he amended quickly, since he'd never made it alone before. "Please?"

Frodo had come up behind Bilbo, and the two Bagginses looked at each other, saying things with their eyes that Sam wasn't grown-up enough to understand yet. But Bilbo nodded and stepped back, setting the door wider as an invitation.

Later, after Bilbo had gone down to the Green Dragon and taken the Gaffer with him, Frodo came to the kitchen and helped Sam stir the batter.

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

Hmm. The Ringbearer and the Rose?

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

The Errand Lad!

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

It's one of the drabbles. Night at Bag End, I think...

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

Another drabble... Darned if I can remember the title though, so you got me! What do you want for your ficlet?

[elasg.livejournal.com]

Rats!

OK, I'll try another... You are going to make me work for this, aren't you? :p

[piratesmoon.livejournal.com]

Ohhh... go set off the buzzer to the kitchen timer for an incorrect answer. It's "Nighttime Shall Be Beautiful."

Pippen, please in an old-fashioned, young hobbit attempt to lighten the mood of the fellowship after a long difficult days march.

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

*grin*

Re: Set a year after "Passing"

[cara-chapel.livejournal.com]

OMG! ♥♥♥♥♥

This is perfect; it's absolutely beautiful. I have tears in my eyes....

Absolutely *lovely.* I'm going to link this on Bill's journal while it's undeleted, if you'd let me.

Re: Set a year after "Passing"

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

Sure, by all means. Or would you rather I did it as a separate entry first so there's less clutter around it?