Disclaimer: These stories are not intended to infringe on any rights by Tolkien or the estate there of. They are merely a story from my imagination regarding Tolkien's characters. I write them in honor of those characters and I make no profit on them whatsoever.
by Ainaechoiriel
Audio copy: You can listen to this story on my podcast: There Are Three of Me. It is read in S1E6 and in S3E9. You can find There Are Three of Me on Spotify and Spotify Podcasters.
I watched too long these waves; so swiftly rising. I longed to watch his failure, my husband's. And his puppetmaster Sauron's. Too long I stayed watching, rejoicing in the fall of this wicked people, my own no longer: they chose evil. All the Faithful now are gone, gone to the fires or gone to the waves, gone in nine ships led by Elendil. Too late I ran for the Meneltarma, where once we prayed and then we burned. I cry out for salvation, but the waves run quicker than I. I watched too long these waves and now I die.
A/N: Written for Rainsong's birthday as part of the HASA Birthday Cards challenge. (She had requested Celebrian or Miriel.)
by Ainaechoiriel
(A/N: This one is AU, giving a different perspective to Tar-Miriel)
I welcome these waves, climbing ever higher, here to the Meneltarma, where once we prayed and then we burned. I longed to watch his failure, my cousin's, my husband's. And his puppetmaster Sauron's. I rejoice with the waves, joyful in the fall of this wicked people, once my people, my father's people. The Faithful now are gone, gone to the fire or gone to the waves, gone in nine ships led by good Elendil. To the East they go, back to where we started long ago. And I go to the waves, to peace and an end to my despair.
The End
©copyright 2004 Gabrielle Lawson
by Ainaechoiriel
Audio copy: You can listen to this story on my podcast: There Are Three of Me. It is read in S1E6 and in S3E9. You can find There Are Three of Me on Spotify and Spotify Podcasters.
"In Imladris it dwells," Boromir repeated. "My father says it is a realm of Elves in the north, home to Elrond HalfElven."
Éomer leaned against the stall. "I never heard of it. Elves, though, I heard of. Dangerous lot, half or whole. We likely shall never see that horse again."
Boromir smiled, glad for a moment of mirth. "Good to know your concern is right-placed, Éomer, son of Éomund. Fear not. You shall see your horse again."
Éomer took hold of Boromir's shoulder. "I speak in seriousness, Boromir, son of Denethor. Can the horse return if her rider does not?"
The End
©copyright 2005 Gabrielle Lawson
A/N: Written for Lady Ninde's birthday as part of the HASA Birthday Cards challenge. (She had requested Boromir or Éomer.)
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