Thanksgiving Drabbles
Dec. 15th, 2009 11:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
written_leavesA/N: A small collection of Thanksgiving-themed drabbles for Middle-earth.
Sam and Rosie
The pumpkin pies in the oven were nearly done, Sam was sure of it. He'd been hard pressed to wait for the middles to stop being wobbly-like, they smelled so nice. Rosie brushed past him with a baby on one hip and a basket of fresh rolls on the other, and the love of all three was so intense in him he had to close his eyes and just inhale deeply.
"Don't forget the turkey!" she called over her shoulder, "The Captains will be here soon enough, and you know you won't remember a thing once you're all into that pie."
-
Aragorn and Arwen
The turning of the seasons came and went in the south with an ebb and flow so different from the north, thought Aragorn. The sharp frosted nights of fall had already turned the leaves that shaded his faraway friends to brilliant oranges, yellows and reds. He loved his kingdom, but this Autumn it seemed dull, and cold.
"Look, beloved," said a soft voice beside him. "The banners for the day of Thanksgiving, how they stream in the wind. Behold how the sun shines over thee and thy realm."
"We have much to be thankful for," he said. "So very much."
-
Gloin
Thwack went the silver axe, neatly cleaving the roast once again. The meat dripped with juices, wafted its aroma among the bushy beards that eagerly gathered around. Another thick slice fell from the bone to the waiting golden plate, another thick-handled foaming tankard of ale was pulled to go with it.
"Ah! What a fine feast, and what a fine day for it!" said Gloin happily. "My son has once more brought us great honor, and thankful we are for the peace we enjoy as well. To Gimli!"
"To Gimli!" chorused the others. "May his beard ever grow longer!"
-
Shelob
The night was still as Shelob heaved her body out of its nest to seek dinner. Ever since she had run afoul of that stinging light she had been forced to move further, with little energy for fresh catches... It had been a hungry year, the orcs no longer so plenteous.
She squeezed out the last crack into cold night air. A night wonderfully dark, darker than it had been for an Age. No horrid lights blazed from the nearby tower-city. No glaring Eye, even the fire-mountain had subsided. It was dark, and the last scrawny orc still hung where she had left him. She was thankful.
-
The Travellers
Merry and Pippin shook their heads at the many-sized flock of children gathered around Rosie at this reunion. There were more every year, it seemed, with no end in sight. The tables had been set and all was ready, but they were still missing one person. It was to the children's delight when Sam finally entered the room, kneeling and opening his arms. They all ran to fill them.
"Hullo pumpkin! Hullo sweetie-pie! How's my dumpling? My honey? The apple of my eye? I love you too, sugar-plum, and why there's my little half-pint!"
"I'm hungry." said Pippin.
-
Barliman
It had been right hard times this past year, Barliman had to admit it. The company at the fireside had been sullen or worse, afraid. When all was so sorrowed, they only picked at their food, and wasted the good ale in their fisticuffs.
What a difference it had made, having the news of the King returned! Already spirits were higher, the sun was brighter and the ale had a better top on it than any could remember. The harvest had been slim, but he felt no anxiety for the winter, not any more. He was truly thankful.
-
A Brace of Coney
The grasses grew thick and shining; the last of the battle scars quickly being taken over by the softened loam, hidden by the creeping green of life. The earth no longer shuddered with the passing of heavily booted feet, the grinding wheels or the hooves of hard-driven beasts. The wind was fresh, untainted by smoke, sweat or battle on this blessed Thanksgiving morn.
Cooler autumn winds were blowing sweetly, the warren was well hidden. Few were the traps that had been set of late, and the older rabbits relaxed near the tunnel entrance.
For the pheasants that had been taken the day before, the coney were truly grateful.
-
Faramir
If there was ever a day in the year when Faramir loved to visit the commissary this was it. He made the rounds, finding the guards well-fed, cheerful after their day of feasting and thanks. He had saved the buttery for last.
A place of magnetism in his youth, for all young men have magnetic appetites, now he watched, amused, as the younger soldiers gathered tight, packing tables for their share of leftovers, unconstrained by holiday tradition or dress uniforms. What nobler cause could exist for game-hen or tuber than to strengthen the arms of Gondor, even in a food-fight?
Sam and Rosie
The pumpkin pies in the oven were nearly done, Sam was sure of it. He'd been hard pressed to wait for the middles to stop being wobbly-like, they smelled so nice. Rosie brushed past him with a baby on one hip and a basket of fresh rolls on the other, and the love of all three was so intense in him he had to close his eyes and just inhale deeply.
"Don't forget the turkey!" she called over her shoulder, "The Captains will be here soon enough, and you know you won't remember a thing once you're all into that pie."
-
Aragorn and Arwen
The turning of the seasons came and went in the south with an ebb and flow so different from the north, thought Aragorn. The sharp frosted nights of fall had already turned the leaves that shaded his faraway friends to brilliant oranges, yellows and reds. He loved his kingdom, but this Autumn it seemed dull, and cold.
"Look, beloved," said a soft voice beside him. "The banners for the day of Thanksgiving, how they stream in the wind. Behold how the sun shines over thee and thy realm."
"We have much to be thankful for," he said. "So very much."
-
Gloin
Thwack went the silver axe, neatly cleaving the roast once again. The meat dripped with juices, wafted its aroma among the bushy beards that eagerly gathered around. Another thick slice fell from the bone to the waiting golden plate, another thick-handled foaming tankard of ale was pulled to go with it.
"Ah! What a fine feast, and what a fine day for it!" said Gloin happily. "My son has once more brought us great honor, and thankful we are for the peace we enjoy as well. To Gimli!"
"To Gimli!" chorused the others. "May his beard ever grow longer!"
-
Shelob
The night was still as Shelob heaved her body out of its nest to seek dinner. Ever since she had run afoul of that stinging light she had been forced to move further, with little energy for fresh catches... It had been a hungry year, the orcs no longer so plenteous.
She squeezed out the last crack into cold night air. A night wonderfully dark, darker than it had been for an Age. No horrid lights blazed from the nearby tower-city. No glaring Eye, even the fire-mountain had subsided. It was dark, and the last scrawny orc still hung where she had left him. She was thankful.
-
The Travellers
Merry and Pippin shook their heads at the many-sized flock of children gathered around Rosie at this reunion. There were more every year, it seemed, with no end in sight. The tables had been set and all was ready, but they were still missing one person. It was to the children's delight when Sam finally entered the room, kneeling and opening his arms. They all ran to fill them.
"Hullo pumpkin! Hullo sweetie-pie! How's my dumpling? My honey? The apple of my eye? I love you too, sugar-plum, and why there's my little half-pint!"
"I'm hungry." said Pippin.
-
Barliman
It had been right hard times this past year, Barliman had to admit it. The company at the fireside had been sullen or worse, afraid. When all was so sorrowed, they only picked at their food, and wasted the good ale in their fisticuffs.
What a difference it had made, having the news of the King returned! Already spirits were higher, the sun was brighter and the ale had a better top on it than any could remember. The harvest had been slim, but he felt no anxiety for the winter, not any more. He was truly thankful.
-
A Brace of Coney
The grasses grew thick and shining; the last of the battle scars quickly being taken over by the softened loam, hidden by the creeping green of life. The earth no longer shuddered with the passing of heavily booted feet, the grinding wheels or the hooves of hard-driven beasts. The wind was fresh, untainted by smoke, sweat or battle on this blessed Thanksgiving morn.
Cooler autumn winds were blowing sweetly, the warren was well hidden. Few were the traps that had been set of late, and the older rabbits relaxed near the tunnel entrance.
For the pheasants that had been taken the day before, the coney were truly grateful.
-
Faramir
If there was ever a day in the year when Faramir loved to visit the commissary this was it. He made the rounds, finding the guards well-fed, cheerful after their day of feasting and thanks. He had saved the buttery for last.
A place of magnetism in his youth, for all young men have magnetic appetites, now he watched, amused, as the younger soldiers gathered tight, packing tables for their share of leftovers, unconstrained by holiday tradition or dress uniforms. What nobler cause could exist for game-hen or tuber than to strengthen the arms of Gondor, even in a food-fight?