Dawn Felagund (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dawn_felagund) wrote2005-10-05 11:17 am
dawn_felagund) wrote2005-10-05 11:17 am
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Drabbles for Juno
As most of you probably know, I do daily drabbles, usually based on the word of the day. However, for special occasions (for example, most recently, the autumnal equinox), I write drabbles based around that event.
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juno_magic has exams tomorrow. I wanted to wish her some luck with a drabble (or two, if so inspired!)
I am not long out of university myself and will probably return some day. I'm torn between wishing to pursue a master's degree in psychology (although which discipline--clinical, counseling, social, biological--I don't know) and creative writing, so it will probably be that I will face my own exams, sometime in the not-so-distant future.
Exams always inspired conflicting emotions in me. On the one hand, if I felt the subject valuable and interesting, I knew that I had learned something important and that my studies had been worth it, aside from whatever marks I would get on the ensuing exam. What I learned in college has been valuable to me aside from the benefits incurred through being able to get a better job or being able to use my GPA/GRE scores as some kind of badge of superiority (although I try not to do this). Then there is the practical side: With this degree, I will be able to get a better job. I will be able to make more money. That money will allow me the comfort to pursue my less lucrative dreams: writing and entrepreneurship. And so while I felt that the exams were not a good measure of how much I appraised the knowledge to be worth, they were valuable in securing my ability to pursue happiness with greater ease.
If this doesn't make sense, my apologies :)
So today's drabbles will have to do with ambition and dreams and even a bit of luck...and in the end, appraising what is truly valuable in life.
The first is an attempt at Elrond. Now don't get to excited. It's First Age Elrond, but my first Elrond nonetheless. It's also a tribble (300 words) and my first attempt at that too.
The Weight of Words
I watch Elrond from the library doorway. His eyes are only for his books, though, and so he never sees me smile at the way his forehead rumples and causes him look older than he is, betrayed by his tendency to nibble the ends of his braids and swing legs too short to reach the floor.
My little foster son loves his books.
How I long to lurch forward and take them from him, fearful that weight of those books will break his young, frail body! But I hold back—“Let them grow,” Maedhros says, of my foster sons. Let them grow.
Elros is confident in being loved: He flies into me, arms latched around my waist, certain that I will swing him into the air and let his laughter inspire my own. Elros can even make Maedhros smile, a gift I have lost. But Elrond is different: He strives to be loved. He speaks to Maedhros of lore, but my brother—once a wonderful teacher—stares at the tabletop and does not reply.
At night, when I should read Elrond bedtime stories, I let him read to me instead.
He curls against my side; he rests the book in my lap. He reads to me of my own deeds:
“They reaped not the reward that Morgoth promised them, for Maglor slew Uldor the accursed….”
He is too small, nestled beneath my arm, to see how the tears roll down my face as he reads. For one day, he will encounter older and darker volumes than these, and I wonder if he will still find love in his heart for me, for a Kinslayer.
I want to take the books from him. They will break him.
But Maedhros insists that I not. Let them grow.
So I let him grow.
~oOo~
I am supposed to be working on some reviews for Antithesis Common right now....
But Feany is sitting here, pouting because I had in mind a drabble about him, and I didn't write it. And Feany is so cute when he pouts....
Watching the Path
He should be nervous.
But when his fingers turn the pages, the paper doesn’t rattle between them. His eyes move with the languorous rhythm of a pendulum. He even sits with his back to the window! So he cannot even see the path!
I am nervous in his place: hands trembling on the tabletop, sitting at an angle so that I can see the path peripherally, to know if my ten-year-old son has earned the honor of being apprenticed to Aulë.
He turns the page, and I glance up. Aulë walks up the path.
Could a father be any prouder?
~oOo~
And to Juno: Best of luck tomorrow! You are in my thoughts :)
juno_magic has exams tomorrow. I wanted to wish her some luck with a drabble (or two, if so inspired!)I am not long out of university myself and will probably return some day. I'm torn between wishing to pursue a master's degree in psychology (although which discipline--clinical, counseling, social, biological--I don't know) and creative writing, so it will probably be that I will face my own exams, sometime in the not-so-distant future.
Exams always inspired conflicting emotions in me. On the one hand, if I felt the subject valuable and interesting, I knew that I had learned something important and that my studies had been worth it, aside from whatever marks I would get on the ensuing exam. What I learned in college has been valuable to me aside from the benefits incurred through being able to get a better job or being able to use my GPA/GRE scores as some kind of badge of superiority (although I try not to do this). Then there is the practical side: With this degree, I will be able to get a better job. I will be able to make more money. That money will allow me the comfort to pursue my less lucrative dreams: writing and entrepreneurship. And so while I felt that the exams were not a good measure of how much I appraised the knowledge to be worth, they were valuable in securing my ability to pursue happiness with greater ease.
If this doesn't make sense, my apologies :)
So today's drabbles will have to do with ambition and dreams and even a bit of luck...and in the end, appraising what is truly valuable in life.
The first is an attempt at Elrond. Now don't get to excited. It's First Age Elrond, but my first Elrond nonetheless. It's also a tribble (300 words) and my first attempt at that too.
The Weight of Words
I watch Elrond from the library doorway. His eyes are only for his books, though, and so he never sees me smile at the way his forehead rumples and causes him look older than he is, betrayed by his tendency to nibble the ends of his braids and swing legs too short to reach the floor.
My little foster son loves his books.
How I long to lurch forward and take them from him, fearful that weight of those books will break his young, frail body! But I hold back—“Let them grow,” Maedhros says, of my foster sons. Let them grow.
Elros is confident in being loved: He flies into me, arms latched around my waist, certain that I will swing him into the air and let his laughter inspire my own. Elros can even make Maedhros smile, a gift I have lost. But Elrond is different: He strives to be loved. He speaks to Maedhros of lore, but my brother—once a wonderful teacher—stares at the tabletop and does not reply.
At night, when I should read Elrond bedtime stories, I let him read to me instead.
He curls against my side; he rests the book in my lap. He reads to me of my own deeds:
“They reaped not the reward that Morgoth promised them, for Maglor slew Uldor the accursed….”
He is too small, nestled beneath my arm, to see how the tears roll down my face as he reads. For one day, he will encounter older and darker volumes than these, and I wonder if he will still find love in his heart for me, for a Kinslayer.
I want to take the books from him. They will break him.
But Maedhros insists that I not. Let them grow.
So I let him grow.
~oOo~
I am supposed to be working on some reviews for Antithesis Common right now....
But Feany is sitting here, pouting because I had in mind a drabble about him, and I didn't write it. And Feany is so cute when he pouts....
Watching the Path
He should be nervous.
But when his fingers turn the pages, the paper doesn’t rattle between them. His eyes move with the languorous rhythm of a pendulum. He even sits with his back to the window! So he cannot even see the path!
I am nervous in his place: hands trembling on the tabletop, sitting at an angle so that I can see the path peripherally, to know if my ten-year-old son has earned the honor of being apprenticed to Aulë.
He turns the page, and I glance up. Aulë walks up the path.
Could a father be any prouder?
~oOo~
And to Juno: Best of luck tomorrow! You are in my thoughts :)