(no subject)
Nov. 5th, 2004 10:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanGacked from several people:
If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post exactly one sentence from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favourite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else -- this is merely to wet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).
(some sentences, some passages)
It was Sam who taught Pippin how to get the sweetness out of honeysuckle.
"Do you? It is a perilous road, young hobbit." For a moment the Elf's eyes clouded over, as if he were seeing something far distant. "There will be a time when all will seem lost to him, departing as leaves in a gale."
He put his hand on Elrond’s shoulder, and from the Istari Elrond could now see a small figure brandishing a red blade.
“I didn’t throw the Ring into the fire to save us, Mr. Frodo,” he apologized to the wind. “I threw it in to spite Stinker, and in he went after it before I could stop him.”
If it was meant to come to me, does that mean my parents were meant to die?
“Well, I’ve got to do something to get one up on my sisters,” Pippin said. “If I don’t come home with at least one rude song they’ll think I’ve wasted the whole adventure.”
Underneath the babble, Legolas was humming, and he let his head rest against the silken shirt, hearing the music as if it were being sung by the Elf’s own heart.
Still, if I’d listened to naught but lies for 500 years I daresay I’d be a fair match for the old Stinker.
"I sleep better under the sky, anymore, Merry. I try to stay at the Cottons, and I don't fit."
He’d seen the Man sitting in the corner of the Banquet Hall before, with a book on his knees and his hand moving swiftly over the paper as his eyes glanced here and there, taking in the room.
“Nor do I,” Sam said. “But no smashing. No burning. Take ‘un down, if you will, but do it like hobbits, not orcs, and save the bricks and glass. There’s plenty as has been burned or driven out as will need to build again.”
“They loved me, but I lost them,” he sees in Harry’s eyes, and not even Ginny has erased it. “She loved me, but she died,” he sees in the mirror, and promises the child who will be niece and daughter to him that she will have eyes like Ginny’s and Ron’s and the other Weasleys, who take their parents presence for granted most of the time and are the happier for it.
The bed is cool, the sheets crisp. It feels like a daydream, a fantasy, and not a construction of wood and wool. How do Elves sleep so soft? His bed at home is warm and hard, and he misses it already. But he has promised his father to stay in Rivendell and represent his people, and a Dwarf keeps promises, hard or soft.
If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post exactly one sentence from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favourite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else -- this is merely to wet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).
(some sentences, some passages)
It was Sam who taught Pippin how to get the sweetness out of honeysuckle.
"Do you? It is a perilous road, young hobbit." For a moment the Elf's eyes clouded over, as if he were seeing something far distant. "There will be a time when all will seem lost to him, departing as leaves in a gale."
He put his hand on Elrond’s shoulder, and from the Istari Elrond could now see a small figure brandishing a red blade.
“I didn’t throw the Ring into the fire to save us, Mr. Frodo,” he apologized to the wind. “I threw it in to spite Stinker, and in he went after it before I could stop him.”
If it was meant to come to me, does that mean my parents were meant to die?
“Well, I’ve got to do something to get one up on my sisters,” Pippin said. “If I don’t come home with at least one rude song they’ll think I’ve wasted the whole adventure.”
Underneath the babble, Legolas was humming, and he let his head rest against the silken shirt, hearing the music as if it were being sung by the Elf’s own heart.
Still, if I’d listened to naught but lies for 500 years I daresay I’d be a fair match for the old Stinker.
"I sleep better under the sky, anymore, Merry. I try to stay at the Cottons, and I don't fit."
He’d seen the Man sitting in the corner of the Banquet Hall before, with a book on his knees and his hand moving swiftly over the paper as his eyes glanced here and there, taking in the room.
“Nor do I,” Sam said. “But no smashing. No burning. Take ‘un down, if you will, but do it like hobbits, not orcs, and save the bricks and glass. There’s plenty as has been burned or driven out as will need to build again.”
“They loved me, but I lost them,” he sees in Harry’s eyes, and not even Ginny has erased it. “She loved me, but she died,” he sees in the mirror, and promises the child who will be niece and daughter to him that she will have eyes like Ginny’s and Ron’s and the other Weasleys, who take their parents presence for granted most of the time and are the happier for it.
The bed is cool, the sheets crisp. It feels like a daydream, a fantasy, and not a construction of wood and wool. How do Elves sleep so soft? His bed at home is warm and hard, and he misses it already. But he has promised his father to stay in Rivendell and represent his people, and a Dwarf keeps promises, hard or soft.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-05 03:59 pm (UTC)Ooooooh!
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-05 04:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-05 05:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-05 08:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-05 07:44 pm (UTC)The one 4th from the end for some reason made me imagine Tolkien at Rivendell, taking notes! (Though re-reading it, it sounds more like an artist.)
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-05 08:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-06 04:16 am (UTC)Can't wait to see this one---what an intriguing thought!
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-06 04:42 am (UTC)*What the--?*
"Well, I've got to do something to get one up on my sisters," Pippin said. "If I don't come home with at least one rude song they'll think I've wasted the whole adventure."
*intrigued*
Hope inspiration strikes soon!
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-06 07:50 am (UTC)WOW - what's that?
And this:
“They loved me, but I lost them,” he sees in Harry’s eyes, and not even Ginny has erased it. “She loved me, but she died,” he sees in the mirror, and promises the child who will be niece and daughter to him that she will have eyes like Ginny’s and Ron’s and the other Weasleys, who take their parents presence for granted most of the time and are the happier for it.
Ah... I want to read them all, that's it.