#some lines

Suddenly, and without warning, it is the old Théoden looking back at him, peering out from behind the mask of a man aged and wearied before his time. (A Good Lad, Háma & Théoden, 1.5K)

While other men might be surprised to return home to find their wives deeply enmeshed in a spirited debate about how best to burn an army’s worth of rubbish, Dúnhere seemed to have expected nothing less. (For Want of a Nail, Dúnhere/OC, 4.2K)

Perhaps it was a closeness that started before birth, in those months when she was all he knew of the world, and then had slumbered in dormancy during the long years of their separation, a flower waiting for the right moment to burst into bloom again. (Beyond the Circles of the World, Théoden & Efhild & Théodred, 6.5K)

Have pity on us, Béma, he pleaded, equal parts desperate and outraged. You cannot take him either. (A Sister’s Son, Elfhelm & Théodred, 1.9K)

The barrier between what a man thought and what he would say aloud grew its thinnest in the moonlight, and Elfhelm found himself drawn aside more often after dark by those with a sense of urgency to their words, a need to share worries and hopes or to unburden secrets before the chance was lost forever. (Sleepless, Elfhelm, 2.6K)

He has many years ahead to live with the knowledge that others want him dead; she will not be the one to put that idea in his mind for the first time. (Askance, Vidumavi/Valacar, Vidumavi & Eldacar, 5.3K)

They have left out the soul-deadening horror of looking another man in the eye and realizing the only way to end his misery is to first give him more. (Hewn and Sewn, Háma, 4.1K)

It was easy for her to meet anger with anger, but to sustain a sharp temper in opposition to Théodred’s quiet warmth was nearly impossible, feeling somewhere between callous and absurd. (What Do We Say?, Théodred & Éowyn, 1.5K)

Her husband is just one of many things suddenly missing from her life, and he is not the one she most wants back. (Unwary, Théodwyn/Éomund, Théodwyn & Éomer & Éowyn, Sisters of Théoden, 3.1K)

Gwindor was his name, back when he had an existence worth naming. (Gwindor’s life as a thrall WIP, maybe to be posted for Tolkien Horror Week or maybe never to see the light of day! 1.5Kish)

I've been away so long and I know I've been tagged by a few folks but my batteries are recovering from being at like -50% for the past few months so take this as my thank you for all the tags 🥺 Shout out to @sarahlizziewrites @void-botanist @oh-no-another-idea and @tabswrites thank y'all for continuing to include me!

Anyway here, have some lines!

From AASOAF 3:

The vessel disappeared behind a swell, only to pop back up shortly thereafter. With its appearance came the faint sounds of women and babies crying. I hoped, dared, even, to pray, they were hanging onto something as firmly as the occupants of our boat were. And so it went on like that a little longer; us chasing them but never getting close enough to make contact, when finally, by some miracle, one of them spotted us. “HO THERE!” I boomed out over the waves, “WE BEEN FRIENDS, NO FOES!” There was a scramble on decks, but no response.  “Maybe they don’t speak Common!” Mariel offered.  So I tried calling out to them in any tongue I knew. Hamatian, Tlaxlian, Anatolian, Common again, even some broken Elvish I remembered Ophelia teaching me. Still nothing.  “There be nothing for it! Must keep on, full and by!” “Carefully!” “Aye!” I strained against the wind and sea, pulling my weight into my feet and the lines into my chest. The schooner’s yard groaned and threatened itself out of my grasp, as though it were a living thing, speared and gasping for life. I ground my teeth together, brewing a growl in my throat. And then, as a counter to the animal in my hands, a wave threw her head back beneath our keel and the sky opened before our bows.  “BRACE!” We took a nosedive over the wave, itself now a part of an angry churn, which tossed us, peak over peak, until our starboard dashed against the port of the refugee vessel. A torrent of terrified screams washed over our decks as I relinquished the lines with a cry of my own and, fighting against the list of our boat and the violence of the waves, lashed our decks to theirs with a pair of boarding hooks still dangling from my waist. A woman seated close by grasped one of the hooks and desperately tried to pry it free.  “Avast!” I called out as the sea sprayed between us, “I nay been a threat!” “You may not be!” she cried from beneath her veil, a terrified look on her face, “But they are! Please, you must let us go!”

Tagging all the lovely folks mentioned above and anyone else who wants to have a go at this!

In those rare hours, with no artblock, Reyes looks decent : >

I've been tagged over the course of the last month by so many lovely peeps to share some form of Last Line, Heads Up Seven Up, 9 Lines etc, and because my brain is everywhere these days, I decided to combine these and just share some lines with y'all!

Thank you to the following (some more than once!) who've tagged me 🥺💙

@duckingwriting @tabswrites @sarahlizziewrites @acertainmoshke @sam-glade @talesofsorrowandofruin @squarebracket-trick @lassiesandiego @mister-writes @mysticstarlightduck @teamdilf @scifimagpie @autumnalwalker @writingmaidenwarrior

Leaving this as an open tag to anyone who would like to share lines of their own!

cw: mild body horror, blood, asphyxiation

A widow by the ocean lookin for her lover

Heads down to see the beach to see what the water brought her

Seagull lady skipping gaily

O'er the bones of dead sailors

A fine man of good complexion

sits done amongst the collection

Handsome feller in God's cellar

Thinks the woman winsome

She lays out her picnic blanket

Checkered red with speckles on it

Like lovers last summer

And lovers watch the sailor's ships

One's going west and another east

And among them all none the least

Good enough for loving

Who's bones are not on the beach

Sun is orange in the sky

White gulls flying by

Bed head dead head

Spirits peering downside

Our lady's packing up now

Leaves a laurel on'er lovers brow

Lucky bones beside stones