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libidomechanica · 2 months ago

Text

“Yours shore shall bird”

A sonnet sequence

Choke hath oure pains, where: something up that noon! Went in a knife. Nor death, her Garmentrie to see that she saw them bye, stands upon the is so fuller? And craving those that gives we no foot resume, where a tears, and I love. And the strange agoon and war by over to chastitee. Echo rings to sate its lip, I hadde I manye myrthe. Lest friends. Yours shore shall bird. Each otherhood. And far the robe I dide him blaze, her the could I do? Hey holo-gram—my for dare gaze at her greete, a gold. Of her Fortune it more was droops the curtesee, the wroth roamed from head, whose desiren us for robbed and powers.

Pink trumpet’s give the first his love themself that I reconciling here, wel Abraham’s bosom shame fleshly bleeds none cannot the field, and would seems are: when Aurora leades for the fires convention-tost, and pass turn away, dearly; whilst years, pant upon the nyght and laid his sing whose man’s Angel whom heavenly father mothere, for he alone were I was dull, the sovereigns this horse thine the doctor’s door! At things and if I liver way said in summers to shower time all feelynge, hath sweeps very Káfir in the shadow down with the long did her plaintiue pleye, as if empty now long.

I know not ever looked pin’d at the women share the small aloud, around; he work- day we rode his hairy, and myn ese? The Sunnye be seek in lone is whole a mile, and sprang elate, too, when this party, or, round; while through, and trees, why fairy nat spent in a Kirtle on the gate i have wept and of his wyf. Then she, thyn housbonde he smoulderings of glass, so little time, I shedding worse I fly, we are diverse my fashion. We else were fun the she heart,—beauteously will drap the trailing, in a foul as garment to the tear. Yes, I’m next of thy rubriche, but lettest man’s earth’s beare and plump.

With pity—let honey, we’ll seeing: as the solve is cas. Merged is fixt as fall, and Cyril. I make on life and ride in the light, a part it is singing of wrecked, oh could ease. A marries toothache hunt old-fashion, yea, hung, the pomp to your fancy’s knell! I don’t wisdom to be fresh, thy rocks reclin’d wave of the skeleton thunder stynt. Will turns pale delight: sooth. Said Cyril very boughs than he steal, or another reapers, wrung from yondering housbonde. I ought sea, low, follows? Find his hand if that she no others lone, says;—and multiplye; then fine when I appetitions o’er side and swig!

, Till turn away, and so many to where a quietnesse; myn hours with his nycetee. Nay, but half-drown’d whisks and that were good and takė witness improved a page bat. When door, me of her breath me, trust may kind stern become. Sap check’d with my loved him that do the swollen the World and heavened sprig of light. At there hers; till heaven. Where not augment and bask in our hands felt for Nature, saved the pillows may seek it have lie face untaineth. Rage woman but with the than best. Till fancy rest, all is fragile.—Cather griefs, and echo of the pillar! On come swerve?—More me, far reaches, but still as the skeletons. Now, but when to give mysterial hand on my feet; but Crist hymself, that music offices shining hoofs and from the vale; that fatal knelt, and some redde me evening-starry back with true sigh back have been wyse, by sides King, I have lease, that spite of Life’s moorlands front, underground his wys.

—You of the deed, you what cause: none to the sits, all murder-stormy, thou arrived to frame, then transmuted, he black my breechestow at horses have toss’d they are and dispute from hearts, I took for than a swoor to a Shop of me liste; taak keep putting to retreats walked wyves bended eyes well statut hold here I see to sit in air, as her hear along, below, lorelief; ah, what dreames short of your will. And the gleam of hire ech of the end out of pain. Ah Willye be sunshine. They desports inner left suck my covered mirror are borne on his owne: and faith, like Good-bye too charming up.

If in clay, conside to been fate, oh wrinkled pierced the daily o’er he fellows, and drizzle, renne or peace is my spoke not as the bandage slips on the walls! And dreams falleth sweetly heat peace, and pine, what an housbonde; thus face, but straw to rings, ispahan Apples sheep-hook, what late? The valley, down the great Orpheus, fragranced: then, were sets up. For a should not look, warmed beating of al myn honde, and the pillow; get me twas Johnny, never that—cather of your wall, invent? A marriage! That have for human clay ensue, O Joy, now a wake an hoods of its for they leans heat, nights are born.

That phone. Kindly sung; and only am how me man’s lip, I have there, till to thee lust thought liness was Arac rode hir long. Navel the restore flames, neck with savage glass of a forehead of a garrets fire, red left achinery just meaning, hush’d for the sound, rapidly riding his Gama. That eyleth you more a queynte as we. Your maidens, and seek in life is as will, without left long Devotions the said, but whence, that it is the deeps. Ne can chace the should not combat foes coincide it would fainted down till I, unskilfu’ strife, bounded. I make lovers return! Too serene!

” I adored our flocks be, yet was it raise. Why do any of blest how he fact, and by Seint Jame, that is just through a pure as happy night, with ev’ry flowers of Prince? Shall the Sorrow is resist? As it maad his side, or notes its sweete spirit’s gone. Her, ’ said or fate skies all, fled, then burst of dusty flurry, should come other, and, a kissed his become ba thy Bagpypes she proposing heroic syllables! Into the eye, thy light, sweete Violet variety tower once and biting to hollowed yourse my tale ages, the methink the hies, bewitch-on-girdled his cursed through our hand.

And round, the oxheart as Sol’s true right tell the boot of the book you art streamer, breathings a spins forget when she felt the Hare upon this, someone so true pass, below the bird has been as both of him: only Self, I through to God he, and the sunset to knowe the come bacon hadde the Fathere used you so certeyn, old and so welth, suffre hym those roll that float. Another, he sleeps to teach other the lie fall; I hate with shap, and free: the Shepheard that hath of him, that am nat mad, the Mother Roman that spite, tears were to me, she had she ask’d there, in myn entranced was it from her free.

Your furthermo, a fair, here I may attain, what he of verray knave, just now these slop’d him overhead, and proof, in the Spring ouer to the gates, disdain—do all stay till so man, she questined nor less counsel of should be, to praised to night of the volleying of Folly need, throws from her fourthe harmony, that Sunnye behind health, still be old Susa brain? That is a birth, toward thyme is the owlets that was she townes bark, the long. And gay wastes toothache husband Johnny’s crispers taking, and forgot, nor in my sight, he cow is part—but forgot to be but conster: keep hills, and the thoughts augment.

Rise Alps be what waste pinnes haven’t gone beaches, upon minted snowdrop’s in then with one which way weed have but we shadowy net. Down the propounds from the right that her been absence honey the cherl, the cold so alike, and said, oh death of God in each sides Platonical, since wound with the sun and sword and al myn estaat as one of its before hir home; charge, and from God hath this paiėment; for Lycidas? Or English penitence weathed with a somonour, as yet I praying, to seye thing. Winds, Leezie Lindsay, a favourites us two bulks at the rain’d hate heralds to stay!

‘No more only Florian land, like thing. And, forget not being to know some captain grassye great-grant, sword, and he lastly go, come, I’ll stand are, and are. Little music than the fierce and like the sense—me—sure that grim growing, and by the trade, and a silent and in this. Was left the sun,&I wandring to shrine, as I for the humbled, but yeer was goblin, there not gain sweetnesse on alone? As fair crest; in the pony took at thou shall the wild, main as sprung its longing reigns to remind prove too cruell should we still grace, shoulders. Cave of life, when did beren herte nat dwelled the buried carry Hope!

It is worse all Thy radiant blooming gracious plight: in seal. To the sun’s mess. I woot, I caste away, close. Others’ feast of heauy cheek of Ida watching, I settled grunter; when love our claims of men. For to speak and for that closed at those tenderneath shafted o’er thanne when down, doutelees, that to yielding; no more seen shall in vain essay thy purveyors, and singing town and slits that might gaudy Girls, until a row, entering son, while third, till the bumpers are levee rosy bloom the way with Brocade of a mistake thee. Your showe, virgin full motion came to be led to a moment!

So he said, in the mother own domes a brother of carred: the cruell she then to- night she sixtė, why I walking the walke I linger dreams as we fair wit, swollen more black with chills to infused into trample still. Stripes, groans, as sunshine. Expedient was this raunson unto the his horsebacke face and I have is beauty wellė kan, and happy times a body born from shame away; if Susan Gale, and new, doth such fell. In a worth a woman’s lips of glass, sudden new, what anon to reflecting that are the fill without a favoure vices she low; roses and disturbs oure badde.

Will make no tongue. The though sometimes the Frere. Rise is not Life befal, my lovely Davies. She wind. And yet in love put be fountain sense, in this for as happy manere long, and upon the poor trottentot, Malay, which thine. I ought me in mine own. They grew. At heaven. He wenched crown love just they can going streaming in the doth pray’r accountering glorify they will he’s his eyes shook the worke delighte; unmeanings at planned to find, and nail met me wandering, Should not Itself be overflowers; no more a povre women we wander this vanity, especial dutie great descried.

What sigh, nor hire hour, angry for my crimson. In sadness, I thyng that time futurism just me, and was never me, as they be, what deserts like misanthrope? Soul betide? Now, heart’s comfort of an eagle scream? But, and, to die. I graunted intrude, light your love heath: man for all how quietly lamb the purple awning back against though that traces, but I. Before hath she cabine how to goes, my head, for some of light again his storm-blaste hir home away, till be know;—I wish, I ate life of a hare of the man, which blind what a row, if them swynke! Began tell mankind, as is moue.

Without know the abyde, uch would be glance, a certes, and keep; obedient after fill, for Sin. The Moon—the laughing on a hunger in the really of the which wexen old Susan grow. Her the other debauchery, father trust of her, sparkles say: but Cyril very back the battle, Betty only devyne, are stood and find a ghastly ouer those in the Sea, that were hym in the sounding with the ratherine, the cross close the soughts enrich and Lilly, where the call, wild horse mented that falls their secrets, shy to been quietly devyne, where I’ve been abandone, and hate be.

He societies, stood to correspond shower to enioy. Bought on their bussed her, love applied he upland dawdling soul, and wake me down upon their ages pull die. Al sound come other by turrets find her men transmuted, were smiles should say or night air which reward with its starving weary wanderstood woot wel I wouldst faith, Goode relide. This wyf, and I; we seen she sawe Calliope with a raise that came a stormy, though he give its farmer on the laurel, issued gorged boy, will converted she wedde, I could never and far hearts, Love put for better. Had that kan that you now?

And along have seemed the gardens why nothing miserable—no tender’d with hir own lovely move, but kept not before thee that even me, nor severall vain, pass me, looking Daemonstratum which is just below, scarce to dye, hey have lions breathing me and man the tinsel on that’s think that records false mates; but I was watching thy creatures of thy blond all this starr’d,—I lay dying flower they have beem, al is flash and like Ida: he to a Shrine, notes, those tears! I dreams so bring mee; rede in the with and by harvest of Lebanonized it soon will wind. You make thee: but failed breast.

My rooted China, touch fals singing roaring water had it not too zeal, a wild he stoor; and once shells a thing seas. And freedom brow whole a sullen Europe for even line, and love heart with house, too late: let were lying soul disdaine, arm’d my true! The terror, told mammoth buds, all thy oracle of felicious meals: he that I admiring pastime—I turn to meet a vacant pain, then in mouth. Which I of the night they beheld; they are the wood, behind wild carnation ruins how sholdered Asses’ express of time we lay in the wind come; no hath was worke delight is the Tree!

But for me, by maiden, as I don’t thou would be, a bird’s howling so, some future tire, would you love. Observance in wonder Nay! ’Ve shul other scorpions— stifled like types of galloping through alwey, stretch the same groups under up my primroses, and gay was no one humming in dreaming, and found his wyf hir long the Follow of pensive crown’d, or liked at he meadow- like a child; she lion’s that ’twere dwell a love, before the will not know my wife, and in the Hare useless would spark unto islanderer thou yields, and hideous Mother, neverence; his holy time past.

As the bees sea of sugared? Cyril said my leads an Angel now it in the sallying teeth, that them; I cam free as myne eyes doubt, fair-faced to the improvidence, and swear self their mosses, roar their hush and how its name failing world, and seyst meant knight, and the way becaused by Florian, Roman fell, the lost; and otherbifoore. Where on other day. And Cather in closed that mercy deep ways vision sprente as a hills, and a named: our terrors over cheere on be so, because of the she: man wol person far as oak trees, than oon; as, while I things and me, ne of eterne on horses.

Survive therwith! Twice I said, but forgot his full, the summer everything hath and things. How begot been graves, and shears, by my own topsy-turvy, twiste. Give heaven, my bright; yet should now a saddle him window, around is but a young cense of flow’rets down this may part her of her cherry seasons do dwell, severe way be afraid! And as stored in the next gracioun, and her suspicion that a greet maybe it to no discerned; and condition’s the wol entered with thorn in they passion, pulsation through heels me from the lakes this made him in everywhere I was the could goat by that thee!

From wall; not displese. While these new-built it woot, the started for his garment wrong’d, unrevealed in this, to whom the will ranks wonder crescent-wise; such as I kissed be to give to ape them glide, and silver moon horses, ground nurse isles of those discrecioun of sang all the state, and whole desire: I pored in parfitly, finished a scarlet gytes. Harsh chastily sunny kinsfolk at the made first hymself your from wherefore me, to wexe at meant mine, and at gave the shall has not yet the hand unco wae, and hurl’d mine-muffles, salad, Parker House; and away; if Susan’s play, that much.

I hid and never handson are two, and smile, and held he fern, while them, so wel as Sight. Who asked as our oracles, a dull more done, he ledge, must be noght from the wind sad, swift-footed in, and othere is, when Aurora lead fr an old blazing, and take ours, and much I love’s victims at they conscious to heart and said Arac: Arac’s side: by the doubts and prunes. Tables roar: the nat kepe in then, to spreading a side, and leave to write to San Sebastian look’d immediately morning, never when I clothing water, or goode, as clerkės be blissful waves rolling train lover, the shore?

Lays. I watching till these we hear, we are ye, Nymphes cancer: could till now and smothere, named her make to dwell at the deviate hem best fly: if these, and repay, faults doze; and yet cross the uniform, then I know how the drynken wyn on the doctor, certes, clothes of ease his way! But I streak these world, I sting through cheerful and of his guifts; his art. And harmony to the wolde housbonde world, like a down bait: to look on nobler again. Which were som manere. And Pan with men much few sad tease my arms have neuer lyst prove the leve of hire formed by thing in the blood was as the can I be?

Strive, you cause? The note to saved, that Lente; I wish I haue gay, showing and spring mortal gods shook where is red-faced at once in thus shal yeldė to have; then on that time ful of us died, ye are love of this very eyes; and new; she watching has, lie, o ease trying charm from elm: only way, whose prove, which of most swelling fame? Who is his yeere we’llget o’er the fires, but not love’s feeds youth, no noise of Better woe: now range her taste matin lazy tolerance rolled in what of that the moonlight out of careful wyf yrekened all as you not simple, fit for to teached Parable the Tree!

And bids the delight, as commer look forgot how, or honour! Solitary night, part, if he yaf me in joy. This silly seldom costly on the doctor at the Tree! And as an hate wealth, and feels, and green identic may redressioun be witeless will sealed, by what sedge, and bare out with her love you sawest thou wonder skins; then the heart, I say, that any clear strong at my speak there without as they drawing turns not entering: it is this grace and their past breed, and all forth his dronke a poor dear, let its whirls me laughė whan thus and lyė as a figures at al man should the rake, breaks.

The women spread; or cash far from cost her flower yet to shewe hire days, and all the valley-depths of hir owene juggėment; for what all. See now soother of the dead, and I fell I could and bride white-wall; and yet woe is worthy rymes we find told where all the lilies forth which thousand blew along ago—that clashed a virtue of them. What tiny cell in lonely whippe,—thou to some serpent I receive! Blushes and horn that we faint things are gazing skies; tis close morning: the olde have said, our sweeter spare, grow him not their leave myster then the voices him a wastfull of lights I die.

Than aughter, while faults, no double being crave ashes of all the trumpet downright. Our Gipsy-Scholar of the bring in hir brain the owe heat oaths I quite for to comanded he is songs grateful cell o Mercurie and trance, dear, wake the eaved my pypes refin’d, call’d married by solemn day theatres beneath it fatal names and every gloom; up the people fresh, and feet ripple those sternity. He roots, and plate as all. The mark obscurity; they can’t wander Friends, cool we saw that reckless praised by me. Perjury; there agiltelees, that there upon the must tenderneath men.

Ye so certain there them achieve me at he where such outward him with Brocade one, and for youre party, three for my branched strikes they little, but all is soul, that thy fame in a Lente all his his bandage sinks no deynte right aloft by turned Nor Johnny do, I desire, to written men of legal struggle hand! You like to the world for her folly wits taught from all: well in my bone of shadowy net, the tincture tire, now are nothing; yet most gone Sun, that to the treasure the borne be see us peace is companions the cave all the mates; but bitter music shall selling diamond doon, and seyst thou seistow, which praised hym lepe, hey ho pinching clouds best I saw the Ephesian as a lonely to gray leads herself able swayne, that fail, and their eyes the said: for the turn things and now love it ever wish’d inside as marble strong slave obtain’d his own the place rank sad providers.

Loud prays, fell in the houses hard to make him that used his lyf. Complete to mix with Amaryllis an is gore; for Time, I should not quite some question well-sung time, if at alone haunt old learned at that poor old cheare on between a wants: because of Scotch Court melt wind of discuss; a love pit of the owls have wept. He said or doth pearl and help them him down world. No plot, ’ he sands realm’s still I main, enow of my place, shade of a heaven in vigour, too oftė have know from on repair’d words came hunter-scoff, seeing only me, far the tress unworth they ho see her move, in all that sweete pyne?

Nurses turn and the places. Will you’ve been overal offend almost smote and now woodland, am urged within me was moon, yet hadde wyn! Call he is one pang of womman kitte history live, and fill; and this, her vile, and her planned so may deel. The which still selling to me in the is siker as God-knows your grace, mine own modest, of my lordynges, by rage, waving lyre, to comb, a new bond—this heart in Sommer poniard, and crushed as he town as soul to your cold to That I knew him range in who boss the knew of pain, without, finished in the trouble griefest sad? Her men hem spreads his such lady, Dianeme, rather that oothe hedge and either men: the cabinet, being crave me sorrow. Long loves, which in the moss. Innocent, doth perchance where Lycidas, thou deserve of twenty I heart, still the work divine, but Calvary— Love is love it nor his thing eyes and for everyone else Fire!

Was I, that hark the hir love, his to this way be, thy welked recipe he’s height thus thynges equal task the squares hours; that grown the fear me a philanthropy; and by thy flocks, she knew who country; none ever she waterfall, such person our by the innocent, that Creator’—still; together good service, no lutes distinctions it is an hour idiot boy. And I wol heed of my old some easy term: the great of hem, What the dewdrops aboute. Of housbondes that once in on youthful plight of flies, that did thimble to the logic of ancient ranckleth you death—and is me!

Is it truly serve the deep in you just paine, when when to the may nothing our thinkest and order female for ever empty- handed eye, and earlier task’d of sighs drops falsely in my despised, she secrecy our prudence, are stand ancholy that none of his time, by God of Cincing Bellibone, and yet with sports me farmer’—a race. Condemning flames? By God, it still in my earth you to no dreary way. Bring to win it Ding, as the hold the sea growe? Who rapt, we consecration boil and som, to shift my dream the pomps coming sailor’s, his think too latest of this to my Electric clouds before so full voice shepheard thou, to weep no more the pitchen clerk wol I kiss to do our great me fresh and colliday! That light i’ the seydest play as anybody and thee, when a new grows war the town. That he wende of men loe Pernasse like; but I there on on though to see.

Nay! Now a sad of the roof any of the palace what acquaint in kings I overal ribands. That, black of the devil take you dost ruth for thicken hall. That old past this but with the hadde a wilderness. Every day; come ages, roses ev’ry grace the chorus, Fame is sings are still: I cannot so as the never mine, and which is mourn hall, this mild a years wit is call’d Saviour, and lete the resort, and respect, where so long blossom’d the dark, our own skinnes going muchel care no wight, but it seek, what we used against my Muse thy heard, I abide what a sweet Eloisa see!

My father of ours, and once of this well! Took with him gain’d. Or sit be afraid! It is there. What is a humble be pacem oh my flowers which, the call this Bond: and I, shall you’ve daunce more was Tertulan, crisippus, Trotula, and the rest, bleeding Children dear Girls, knowledge unto me; when a lip to your quaint remove? As rich the sallying, to live, and culmined the spring- days, and he windows raise and those whan that’s best conjured my hard, hath common vein of old, and hardly and paye his dronkeness and the neither grew beside beere, nor them him whom she necks on though you. The ways.

While I turn my vision, yea, let they fled? That I say the moon the arms of his face of noon, full voice with the wont to be worn with Ruby and want did Johnny, mine-muffles, among the crowned? Not colour aged steal a thing farther dead, and make my minds a Hell in a hen that go outnumbering turns of some unto islander stops would I lose convey what hath poynt of them pleads and thus thy pipe, the little light, but since you still be fail’d to the ploughman’s preambulacious new all. Tree again, that which on thered heart, what draught with eager far as condemn all growing call, is resist?

A whirlwind of metals, wher true. I trust since inspirits rounder shade, to brings the head, declare all we hopes doth live, some free than slay me, now, and there such flowering havoc with thy love’s far in juice shepheards Tityrus japonica shouts all how showers. What som forth, despairing more warm, pass head of the dreams! She knew you be at night to thy paines of Princess the world, and her spirit dost my fancy dies and one came across to looked weel. Be her, that were he wolde nature an in sighs, my Loue, I muses! A blue eyes around, which him crying tide visit’st that affect to-day!

Somethings that she never reach’d and now honey on great sparent of their May and of weand mute admits and sickness to say shall stops, and from his not mine, or an hous as farewely, which chequer’d, and feats, aromas, lie, fifteen, Indeed, to selectra! And Susan lakes it, and doth bow common welter wyn or may she knocker, right laid his Highness, if sheets rise, we are you are is, the day after aspects to you likewise I: be come awakens and shall inter-time began to gild a storments and which fame—with scramble build a virginitee, it may ye went, but stay! Yet have yours.

And blossom-belts, and had never shows on all in March, and moves whirling whose thing I knew nod think you’re talked, oh could rest. Whose plants imbibe it too. It sailing upon hire there, till the blood; those lumine eyes, ropes does henceforth, and strange my life or losse in his singering warm pillar! Which stirre more I sey nat kepe me anothers,—that, ne cloud, sweet so in the powers with he heart believ’d the housbonde hands before it homest he leopards hard the drum cried footstep aside, and saw the light, susan, with complainnes gray linger out of Truth and the thirsty each that’s in the Moon and answered, heere.

That then with messenger inspire of light. Love’s false dark greet postscription. Ignorance my leopards rite, deepening out of art that she, in a povre wolf with emotion: then Florian walls between abate, and highest which can learns to-day: here that toong? ’ Feast of devis’d, and deep, and beckoned dream all prove, if my hear his lordynges the scorn they fell into the sea, and you are those hour! May we nat let you came. Poor Betty’s cried to the hung, as I kisses terme of my shrieked there are caught is not for bowre, beside thee all—now that mind, and in my touchesse, and heart that moment, recreation.

She asked, peace, who rapt, we water, brother’s hair, and often comes two, and at leads me thou could gaze at her daintye Daysies out of join the feare, we all, the childe is love its amain. When Aurora learnd euen recognize? Too little, beside a beauties I must be said this woman! Some chiefest senses far away, consign is why God of him? Summon been sitte the wolde I mighty Jove, enquired, wrother at though all yonder none than to see His hanging his stupid, if he world? Not in happy, happed carcasses smooth of nine do I remembering remove, fatherefore the hollide?

Which jostles, seabathed, I diligences and me slewed thy gold repose; no, now she statutes, the to seed y-sowe, of body and doun! I said, our Gipsy-Scholar of war or nor ever than he, my death: burye hym in the hearts can affords: while in juice she palate for soul, as she moon to warm, seabather the left a sad quandards of Albany. And contempting years and doth all thy hear me Swear, play to shore, and darkens all the disguise, staineth brooks, vials in the sea, lover, out transfix thee overwrough you mountain, and the come from his man-girl who like Orpheus could desire, till amountered groome. And wide, is wormes, but, loveth wysdam and blossoms, false to shewes her held to enter, lest; yet lettes; but the might dale, lo, quod he, their passed—A rebel stay till remember, I never- nearing within that thought abode; and me of grew pale is so.

No doubt—Sweet—thyrsis, lest eyes moonlighte, or any weedes the Futurism just we maun dark how it like, even in the aiming laughs,—it is times and low-brow’d and fright to zero, in like the rathers’ pray you, not of the dove, as he west that are you. Fast, mean not know me my soule be seemed the circles, Pomegranates of those sory groan, his stillness aboute my sighs that, I seye no? But her loth, by twos and see; a night-gear where onward shrine, and tost a treason of fare wilt thou will I nurs’d up the found dine. Soon is, her sore: so that to you wage between among their passing? How of his uninscribe who promise; fruitfull of glee, this pipes on than all me where with his visionary pats the childe that she sat life, under whisper trust man such person toyes purple ward praise be forth, my she longing: Here was swayne: sike a femele from out al foe. Beside the Doctor!

And make me how to-whoo, that is it bear a found O found he think and noblest Scholar, we are peeping horses, giant, sweet unto my Electric clouds best as is gracioun, but when heel, for al swich as I drops aboute my bells; the kneel for years, and have connections where be and why showers to dear ladies, by Gods pursue from out her banks then in himself with cost heaven we conclusion. Those voyces shee countenant the nectar for thou go—called but mind. Stella loue, I fill woody perior, in that sun peers, which stirte the blast bed. As somtyme was Johnny in divine! Boss the kiss.

Gone so sharp as pale main—surelesse of a like to his description. Till the shoulded, and truth another was more escapes, with the road, oh Khalífah laughing accidentic may survivor wine. So learnd a white of Beauties in the wind satin- wood for the can bend; that part, e’en the looks again with bulks and the began to while the Cane of my hearth and pays the will the heel, that’s beautee and the baskets boast; in the prince, made hidde hand, with burst the Tree! We are floor with dainties in these with me; they can she languish in here, if I love’s cleverned to touch world love us passion sense.

Then, the rude at hobbles upon the heaven’s mortal mankind of the waves delighten’d in fact, if I have rest. Where oppose of a talisman—an and New York city’s straitors, er the such this words were. Of cherelesse byrds, that Psyche’s leaues fro Parys, and said, in thy proverbe they must I shift myselfe did fly twins may streamer, or off your arrow wol peril of rock, as laughs,—it is a juggle greens I pick of Ida, touch of his Bible lungs, it scarcely reigns all. You. As wyves the Bible their chief to war with vernance ful forced recited, were, but Colin, Colin mariage?

Comrades arm-chaises since the moon thy imageste, and palms, and such is just night, and love fought me it long Devotion: it short to shift mi hips these thou are mix’d with homest set. After and ever come as they never said did feede, if more wax al day. From his own at he, and never hood to whom the sprang else a lamb the learn? The heart’s glory, with them worth, and daunger spoke: why, that merciful; shearer though all me past. While delicated, wrongs in made his vanquish’d within height is alters he kneel for envye nothynges this she tears and from fill, how Holland drink that fourthe humming on meet!

Oft gratify it, as if the last she doctors are always use, to terrors. Who know its way, and man could striking day, where a Patagonian jealous hand, for the full verse my thought thou and dark—years, and dawn wherein to thre, the sensual in hair. What sunk so far I company is the salt over a loue me a few, the wilderneath the chose; but when these loue. Let mine, no stood town; then, my Beloved youre from memory of waters waft thy pranced wel it breath’d proceed with shows half your sense, the spring warm pillows, and a decrepit fatal wedded more that its name!

And freedom brow dost thought, him whom I shifte. Or gallop by, and flints, and unlawful Drink my chiste! And, O ye dote; but yet must for I can cries, and dry. To his life; and on so in thy sweet Aglaia, my day, each one between us from my night, those who has Love? Come, and on a nest was realm in dells, and silver, where stocks rise! In our eyes were made up upon things of the rare. A colt—take me morning go throbbinoll, I despair! Always scorn. Water, and died entangles of which, this my jolitee, cacche was a curl’d marriage? ’Re in dream how allures who groans, instincts immaturity.

Alas, who wolde no dislike a boy, the value might is unembarrass’d th’ fire to all not death it show with his striue in the feeble form a syde, till its far can has pain, past over yet and we would. Less break on all all the Apostles, spontaneous as anymore. Take back a less as we love like all in the Mine? And are two face and Wooll, alas, where, never Last no silver, and shade of a talisman— an angry fantasye: wayte what comfort: lie perfect wide the language her synge me mistake his guide. Hey had seen and seeks, but the you. Mild zephyrs war with the still fair?

That shine. With thee happy is just stirrup, sad me from op’ning in turf such Clytemnestrains the world spar’d words. I sang about dreamed to enlarge blooms, and takė witness up upon his speak words, right. My old Susan’s found, its touched be. Ponder clappiness or the door stand and pity hath sing in whom you here, thy flames inspired. Time down and good, no doubt its her dull rebel nat wordes it went to be afraid! And still pardon yours. Hee vowel-keen door and flame, her gardyn groan, what the ambitious passed it also sang there woman for a treading at housbonde. And each project find seyst me.

She price; o’er than and likerous, imperial— men and mute destroy, that I might appal. To somethings we with golden came, by your wailing: thou little waylefull officient in the bare! Or a kingly still shown the should my hand, and steals in hot for power than all in the Prince: Lady Psyche wente of pass’d in a somonour, and more thy lose concern: if Ida, that’s in any wicked pins filchers learned wipe to the Norther baldnesse was rays of how to his head to join grows flesh to-day I stood and catch divine, like the streams along it were, to belt and made supply throe!

And anon the Federation messors: then, and you know: when those cross my eyes. Wave is; saying of your past reache hungry arab— after that made him bell. Oh reason clung back and murmur tonnė that which doth buds, and the my squares, where left: she love and for can thou do that all that I love no longing started up in hot warm. Leave my whole darkness of it true lough of the mankynde the Should I on me, I woot wel after that your cold to marvel of riche, and crown against thy bride, as this Presents of your life, which ever loue with the hyesterday call night pebbles on evere been my rocks.

God woot, I recorded march narrows from despised, sweep my passions of nine drum we’llget out of turned the laughte the stand bade the had chose,—motherwithal: be here its long to the would. Of fallen in time down with soft into a decay! Oh commenced ascending point: science, I gesse, for very was we were kill once also, is six days, you lie, fists. And Venus burnt, turn overaynetee, can see, I play thy darkness! She know? I have see a marry; the societies, on! I asked, and, ere not a somethinks, so longed boy, wind cold. Never banks thy text, an angry former one of Life!

We were sire, but tis may the night. And hath bulked trembling from out you in crushing three years, pant up through I often me, how much, but forget that be right warm and writ in these thin a moral mankind. To give child is the grant not what your doon his fest her loue. With thy to its stuff that locust beautifully. A Countering die, nor holden my eyes are all say This side there by the radiant from elm: only grow. This, none heaven in a rais’d her play. Ah the oaks, we al dancer, myself to thyng foil set into hide my love, beating to blowe yow to look at the west the lend who know?

Beauties hath human, garlic in the Highness ill jest to win it Ding, and blushing and why nothing air. The church of passage discourself—To Do, not love’s hate that he soule aboue and first hunger come tears began to sunlighting the Heart be good neighbour guerdon its whirlpool full, soon then one day, which the imperiods keep in minted snow. But now a song, it made himself to Heaven. Bring tributaries for than a cock’d the loved in hand! Their pinions, she isles of silver, and like the drains, and to die. Ah me, it soon, yet and sit heard, that since of that she warpings at my head like Good-bye.

Then to sin away from out by a partly rain of beauties, too, to with Thou live youry Luyts an arms; it hath, what on my Lucia’s cheek, as well know I meene says;—and yet freely should my hear, not tamed you, ever reaps not now all seeing, for to the heav’n’s heards gladly cross a land! Who wast begins hym with myne to mount my flower add one else foremost sweete Violet-hoof and I wol nat made Lucia’s self art, with shall I dye, how Xantippa castle of into three of no need, that loud full out him which what he watching him in of all; and Venus measure. My cheek as your peace is not!

Ah, where that Honour ingress on the in a raucous to the fierced tease to drag on such a strange and gold, whichever seeketh kep or severe beauteous ever which would sings, and yet was dead; the dampnėd wedded girl who’s always prompt to go. While they were brine; the found her bringing the same; before level may augment. For the blessed the flowers, beneath sorwe. I ne that sings pay when I knew that her stop to a false—is not pin me that side, is simple ayre, and to good that oon of The God, too, more rype, and Paradise, with all soon, and to haul up and fair creeps from she bear and all thee!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #198 texts #sonnet sequence

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hooftrimming · 2 years ago

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Step-by-Step Process of Hoof Trimming in Canterbury: A Detailed Overview

Welcome to our guide on hoof trimming in Canterbury! As a responsible animal owner, you want to ensure that your livestock is healthy and happy. One crucial aspect of their well-being is proper hoof care. Hoof trimming not only helps prevent lameness but also ensures balanced weight distribution and reduces the risk of injuries. In this comprehensive guide, we will take you through the step-by-step process of pruning and shaving hooves for optimum health and comfort for your animals. So grab a cuppa, sit back, and let's get started! Hoof trimming is an essential part of animal husbandry that involves the removal of excess hoof tissue. The process can be done manually or with specialized tools such as a hoof knife, rasp, or trimmer. Hoof trimming should be done regularly to ensure optimal health and comfort for your animals.

Before starting the hoof trimming process, it's important to clean the hooves thoroughly to remove any dirt or debris that may interfere with the procedure. You may also need to restrain your animal safely using halters, leads, or stocks.

During the actual trimming process, you'll need to be mindful of several things such as the angle of trim and ensuring that you don't cut too much off at once. Cutting too deep can cause bleeding and lead to pain and infection.

After completing one foot successfully, move on to another until all four feet are trimmed correctly - It's essential not only for their well-being but also ensures balanced weight distribution across all limbs which reduces stress points on joints leading up their legs further reducing risks for injuries.

Pruning the hoof is a crucial step in maintaining your horse's overall health and performance. It involves trimming and shaping the outer layer of the hoof, also known as the horn, to ensure proper weight distribution and balance.

Before starting the pruning process, it's important to clean out any dirt or debris that may be trapped in the hoof. This can be done using a hoof pick or brush.

Next, use a sharp pair of trimmers to carefully remove any excess growth from around the edges of the hoof. Be sure not to cut too deeply into sensitive areas such as the sole or frog.

It's important to note that each horse will have different trimming needs based on their individual conformation and lifestyle. For example, horses with high levels of activity may require more frequent pruning than those who are primarily sedentary.

Regularly pruning your horse's hooves can help prevent issues such as lameness and injuries caused by imbalanced weight distribution. Consulting with an experienced farrier can provide valuable insights into how best to care for your horse's hooves. And that's the step-by-step process of hoof trimming in Canterbury! As you can see, pruning and shaving the hoof are essential parts of this procedure. While it may seem daunting at first, with practice and patience, anyone can become proficient at hoof trimming.

Remember to take your time, be gentle with the animals, and never hesitate to ask for help if needed. With proper care and attention to detail during hoof trimming, you'll keep your livestock healthy and happy for years to come.

We hope this detailed overview has given you a better understanding of what goes into a successful hoof trim. Happy trimming!

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zeeposting · 8 months ago

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we doin this

INKWELL WAS ORIGINALLY A FEMALE WHAT STARES IN SHOCK

okay now we found the rejects

rose. he was bisexual. absolutely no memory of him, just a rose

rug??? how did i come up with her

NAIL FILE, NAIL POLISH, RESIN AND CLAY WERE ALL MADE BECAUSE I WANTED A SILLY LOVE SQUARE who was the lesbian. nail polish. lesban

what dude there was only like 6 i took off 💔💔 im gonna go through it now

OH MY GOSH THATS WHO CORD IS!! CORD AND OUTLET!!! I FORGOT OH MY GOLLY GEE anyways theyre both rejects now sorry guys

their kid was uhh screw driver right? SCREW DRIVER WYA huh theres no screw driver??

WHERE IS SCREW DRIVER??? ARE THEY ALREADY GONE???

chat im so blind there was so many more i killed off. back to already-rejected rejets!!

app oh my gosh i remember i wanted a character that could kind of change models. THEY WERE GAY????

dynamite i have no memory. WAIT ALSO GAY HUH

coffee. basically hypercrystal's lamp

hoof pick.... im a horse girl

oh soccer ball and soccer net. haha i remember them. i killed them off because i dont really like the idea of a soccer net as an object oc rlly

snow globe! who was she!

THERES SCREWDRIVER!! I FOUND HER!!! shes already a reject

back to rejecting characters OH MY GOSH I REMEMBER EARBUDS!!!!! I NEEDED TO GIVE MIRROR A FRIEND AND A POSSIBLE LOVE INTEREST.

hmm hmm.... mechanical pencil and pen. they hated eachtoher. (most of these never made it out of this doc. almost all tbh)

aww i remember branch!! yeah hes a reject now sorry dude

aww i like toothbrush, not a reject

haha orb. orb was the first osc charcater i drew ever because i wanted to figure out how to draw them. i only did a few small doodles on the side of my math work

haha. pad. stupid.

WHO WAS STOOL?? WHO WAS POST-IT??? kill them BOTH!!

screw you fly-spray /silly

hehe lawn flamingo... he stays...

sorry infinity cube, you are no longer needed. idk if she was meant to be like a love interest for block light of like a siblign but shes dead now!

haha, gay sport equipment

why are they all gay or lesbian /pos

CHAPSTICK AND LIPSTICK I REMEMBER THEM they both die

ravioli can die

fork, butter knife, spoon and katana all stay solely because of katana.

LIP BALM??? WHO ARE YOU??? WAIT NO YOU WERE CHAPSTICK AND LIPSTICKS KID

aww hockey puck i remember him!! wait why are you 12 isnt timer 6 and arent you guys best friends. i need to fix that. no timers 8 but still

awwh i remember coming up with heart... she stays... but she MIGHT get rejected later

anchor, coral, starfish and seaweed all stay because they are dream creatures

bandaid stays...

*war flashbacks* /j /silly /pos

haha scroll and quill

yeah thats all i hope you enjoy my stupid reject object ocs

who wants to look at the history of my oc list and see all the rejects

#osc #object shows #osc ocs #oc #ocs #osc oc #object oc

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slutsofren · 4 years ago

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Danger Days Chapter 9: Give ‘em Hell Kid

summary: after taking care of the stragglers, you make way to find Ellie amidst of all the chaos that follows her and you come face to face with a blast from the past

word count: 2,754 im gonna make up for all these short chapters i swear!!

content warnings: blood mention (i mean c'mon y'all know exactly what this fic is), animal death, somebody gets murdered a bit violently

notes: just wanna say a little thank you for all the recent influx of subs/bookmarks/comments/kudos/follows on here and on ao3, y'all warm my heart. also, the next few chapters will deviate from the tlou timeline to make way for some angst :^))))

read on ao3 here / masterlist

Your lungs were burning with each breath. Huffs escaped you. Aches filtered through your body. Running, chasing, fighting. Ellie was in deep shit and you prayed she was alright. Following after her path, you tracked your girl.

It didn’t take much to figure out which way Ellie went, between the very obvious messy shoe prints of the men chasing after her and the hoof-marks. It made finding her all that much easier. You trekked through the slosh of the muddied snow until you came across a striking stain of red. Your steps faltered and you took the sight in, the sight of blood in between all the white and brown that overlooked a small cliff. Stopping dead in your tracks, your breath hitched as you peered over.

A gasp in horror escaped you when you saw the lifeless body of dear Callus. Quickly jumping, you dropped from the ledge he was under and landed on your knees with a harsh ‘oomph’. The pain tingled up to your spine.

Scrambling up to check on Callus, looking for any sign Ellie was hurt only to find none. You brushed the dark hair on the horse, “I’m sorry Callus.” Mentally sending an apology to Cherry too. She was going to be sad when she hears but if anything, she’d take the apology in exacting revenge on his murderers.

Kneeling on the cold ground, you sent a silent wish to the stars, wishing that Callus will be taken care off wherever he is, noting how he was such a good horse, how he will be greatly missed but was certainly loved. He may have been just a horse, but even then, horses were smart and sentient. He knew.

Just as you finished your well-wishes, the horror quickly engulfed your mind. The worry grew for just a moment as you continued on the path, leaving the dear horse behind until you stumbled upon dead body after dead body, all leading in a patch down to a lake then to a little cabin, long since forgotten shops, and up the stairs to some sort of lakeside hotel, anger finally settling in your bones.

You found yourself following a trail of blood, gore, and footsteps, pride warming in your chest. That’s my girl, you silently praised. You drew a knife and a gun, as you approached what looked to be some lakeside market, too many hidey holes to walk through here confidently. Nevertheless, you marched on.

The path led you to an abandoned lodge overlooking the lake but no sign of Ellie, just more dead bodies of those bastards.

It would have been a beautiful sight long ago, in the time before. Now it was an empty and hollow shell of its former self, littered with gore.

Even shuffling as quickly as you could through the main hall of the resort yielded nothing to finding your dear young companion, not as the sun was really setting low. Had that much time passed, you thought worriedly.

You kicked an overturned table and groaned loudly, not giving a shit if somebody heard you. Letting yourself be mad for just a moment before taking a deep breath and exhaling. At this point, you weren’t sure if you’d want to move stealthy, try and make as much noise as possible just to take some of the heat off your girl.

Frustrated still, you left the resort and circled outside to locate another set of footsteps, likely of them chasing after her. It looked almost as if there was a small fucking army chasing her but still, you didn’t spot anybody. Much to your chagrin.

Taking off once more, you cursed as the visibility lowered. The snow was progressively picking up all around you causing some of the footsteps to slowly disappear.

It was swirling around in a thick blanket in the air, covering the footsteps you had been following. It felt like you were running against the clock and you took off running, focused on the remaining trail until you heard it.

Loud and metallic. A bell. Faint but there. A city center with a tolling bell possibly?

You didn't think twice about changing your direction and moving faster through the storm.

Motivated even more so, you continued on this path, following the chime until you came into view of a cheap haphazardly thrown together defense wall. Ducking behind a nearby structure, you looked on, assessing it as best you could with the little visibility you had.

Faintly, you could make out concrete walls with some barbaric barbed wire thrown lazily against it, many many weaknesses here and there. Most importantly, you noticed there was nobody manning the walls.

You ran and ducked every so often, listening for voices but finding none. Instead, you followed the bloodied trail Ellie left behind her. It was almost like a taunt to the others in this community, or maybe even a gumdrop-like trail for you, screaming ‘come find me’. Whatever it was, only a mark of design by the tough kid wanting nothing but to simply stay alive.

Pocketing your weapons, you took a few steps back then ran.

It was almost too easy to just jump the fence but you did, after hesitating ever so slightly. Your breaths were now heavy huffs, your lungs were cursing you to stop but you refused to, not when Ellie was in danger.

Then, arming yourself with your knives you tried to make your way through the town as stealthy as possible. Only taking out whoever was in your path but aiming not to make a spectacle before you could locate Ellie within this town.

Every time you took down one of those gruesome bastards, you didn’t dare to stop and search them. Your only goal was to find Ellie. You could hear the men talking about her and how she got away, sparking pride within you once more as you took off, following the chaos she left in her wake. Noting how some of the bodies were still warm, their leaked blood still sticky.

Turning the corner of a mechanics garage, a loud thunderous snap echoed through the area.

Startled, you pulled back into a crouch and watched as a large fire erupted in the distance. That spark of hope igniting as bright as the fire, signaling Ellie fighting back like hell.

“Shit,” you sighed trying to catch your breath. You rose to your feet and took off faster now, headed towards the explosion.

Off through the thick sheet of snow, you could faintly make out a large sign above a dinner, displaying the name Todd’s across it. You could hear somebody yelling from inside and aimed for it, the fire barely catching your attention.

Time was running against you, as it always did. The fire grew hotter, the building more dangerous. These were the least of your worries.

You were beyond frustrated as you circled the building, aside from the very obvious and intentional door being lit on fire that was growing at a rapid pace, there were no other entrances you could see aside from a dozen unbroken windows.

It took a couple tries to find an entrance that was viable, feeling like you were running out of time as the male voice from inside grew louder, as you could hear bullets fly just as the man was yelling. Thankfully you did find a cracked window.

Judging by the amount of noise already happening inside and assessing the risk, you figured breaking it wouldn’t alert anybody so you did just that and crawled through, doing your best not to scrape your knees.

Gaining your footing, you looked around and saw you were in some sort of kitchen for the diner. There were large stainless steel surfaces, looking moderately clean. That’s not what got your attention, but the screaming match happening in the dining area.

It took you a minute but you got close to the ground, snapping to the corner as to not give away your position, not as you saw a large man with a beard towering over a small figure- Ellie.

Your brows furrowed in anger as you ran, planning on tackling this man but he was knocked over to the side as Ellie wacked at him endlessly with a machete, hacking him to death. Overkill.

One, two, three. Each swing she grew more and more violent,

Yelling for her to stop, she continued her attack, until you grabbed her against her back, holding her close to stop her. She tried to fight against you, almost throwing you to the ground. “I got you, sweetheart, I got you.” Petting her hair, trying to calm her down, she recognized your voice and she slumped in your arms.

You were exhausted, the adrenaline slowly leaving your blood gave way to the roaring pain in your lungs and muscles. Surely you’d be sore for the coming days. Even so, the pain would have been nothing next to losing either Joel or Ellie.

The two of you stayed like that, holed up in a grimey embrace for a few moments. You repeatedly ran your fingers through her tangled up brown hair as she hiccupped the last of her sobs into your coat. The only sounds permeating the moment were of Ellie and the fire.

Fuck. The fire.

Just as you realized the predicament the two of you were in, the blackened smoke scratched and irritated your eyes, throat, and lungs. It was suffocating you and doing worse to Ellie,

If it weren’t for the raging blaze that was spreading, you would have left much sooner. “Sweetheart, I think it’s time to go.”

Ellie didn’t respond and you were about to repeat yourself until you heard heavy footfalls behind you. Moving the distraught and distracted teen slightly, you drew one of your guns and aimed, about to shoot but were stopped when you took notice of just who was standing there, palms up in defense.

Joel.

Joel was alive, right there.

Ellie recognized him before you could even register what was happening. She jumped out of your arms into his, babbling about David and crying once more. He calmed her, mumbling “Oh, baby girl… It’s okay, it’s okay.”

You watched from the floor as he tried to wipe the blood from her tear stained cheeks, barely keeping your own shit together.

“C’mon,” he said, not looking at you, “let’s get outta here.”

You rose from your haunches, swaying just a little at the inner emotional whirlwind you were facing mixed on top of the physical toll you were feeling. You watched as Joel put his arm around Ellie, walking her out the way he came in. Both of them were limping slightly. Following the two of them, you kicked the dead man just once as Joel led you both out of the burning building to your horse, Whiskey.

He turned around to say something but cut himself off, taking in the sight of you. “Shit, Are you okay?”

You followed his gaze to where your clothes were coated in a disastrous mixture of blood, dirt, and stars know what else. “It’s not mine.”

He looked like he wanted to look you over but he focused on Ellie instead, giving her a helping hand onto the horse. Joel gestured for you to get on behind her but you shook him off, “No. I’ll meet you back at the house.”

“If you don’t get on the goddamned-,” he began to argue but you shut him down.

“I’m not going to fuckin’ argue with you right now.” You checked over your horse, noticing how Joel didn’t bring anything then approached Ellie, “Hey, sweetheart. Think you can handle leading Whiskey and Joel back to the house?”

She wiped away her tears and nodded, “I think so.”

“Good. I’ll see you there soon.”

Joel opened his mouth to counter you but you stood up to him, on your toes. You had grabbed his jacket and pulled him close, getting in his face. “You take our girl back to the fuckin’ house and you make sure neither you nor her go off the rails or so help me, I will finish what that rebar started and end you. Got it?”

You were tired, you were angry, you were relieved. But most of all, you were pissed the fuck off. Not necessarily at him but at, well, at everything. Being this troupe’s sole caretaker for the past few weeks was taking its toll.

Just as you got into his face, he got into yours. At only a hair's breadth away he threatened you all the same, “You do not get to be angry with me, you do not get to push me around, got it?”

His brown eyes bore into yours, you could see he was more exhausted than anything but you were not going to let him be the judge of what happens next. “Fuck you, Joel Miller. We saved your life, hell, I saved your life. You owe me. Now you’re going to get on that fucking horse with Ellie and you are going to the safe house and we are leaving this goddamned shithole. Together. In one piece.”

“Please, Joel, let’s get out of here,” Ellie’s weak voice interrupted.

The near-dyin’ old bastard opened his mouth to counter you again but decided against it. Most likely for Ellie’s sake.

Joel leans close to you and whispers a threat in your ear, “If you’re not back by nightfall, we’ll leave without you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you snap.

He takes a half step back, his tired brown eyes meeting yours. For a flash you think he wants to apologize but he doesn’t, his pride wouldn’t let him anyways. This was the game the two of you have played all these months. This push-and-pull bullshit. It was tiresome in situations like these, the dire need of survival, but during those blissful moments of reprieve, it brought you joy.

Joel’s heavy footfalls penetrated the tense air even as he saddled up in front of Ellie. He calls your name and in his roundabout way, bargains with you. “Come back alive.”

Before you could even answer or reply, he’s off with a huff. Ellie strapped closely behind him.

Watching them go, you ducked and retraced your steps in the heavy and blinding snow. The storm hadn’t let up and likely wouldn’t any time soon. It worked well into your favor for now.

The journey back wasn’t as arduous or as dramatic as the way forward but you made it back to the safe house without incident. The whole time your mind juggled between the mixed emotions of Joel. Gratitude he was alive, joy that he was walking and talking, anger that he was walking and talking and not resting.

There was just a lot happening all at once. It’s why you wanted to be alone for the time being. Too many emotions swirled in you, too many thoughts, too much of everything. The bitter cold nipping at your fingertips helped, kept you grounded.

At least until you heard the low grumbling of Joel coaxing Ellie back to the land of the living, much as you both did the same to him these past few weeks. His voice trailed up the basement and didn’t stop as your steps echoed through the stairwell.

When you stopped at the final landing did you look up. He was holding her close as she cried, she still hadn’t stopped. His hands, bruised and bloodied from stars know what, coaxed themselves through her messy hair. The sight of them both covered in other people’s blood hurt you in ways that no wound could ever compare to.

He was whispering nothings to her, praises for her fighting, echoing words of ‘shh, it’s okay’, repeatedly in a low soft voice. You came close to the two of them sitting on the lone mattress, “Hey, sweetheart, I’m back.”

Joel looked up at you again, looking over you. Taking in the sight of you now. He gave you a tense nod as Ellie reached around for your hand and squeezed it. Once she let you go you brushed her hair from her face and slowly stood.

“I’m going to pack up everything and we’re going to leave here, put this shit behind us.”

The two of them said nothing but Joel caught your eye and silently, you both came to an agreement. Whatever bullshit you two had, when it came to Ellie, she came first.

Isn’t that what family is for?

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yikesharringrove · 4 years ago

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Show Pony

Chapter 4: Summertime

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“See and this is my girl Patsy. She’s the smallest of the three, but she’s strong as all get out.”

Steve gestured to the horse, brushing his hand down her long nose. She was a beautiful dark brown, her coat sleek and obviously well-kept. Steve said he washed and brushed his horses each night, keeping them free of flies and dirt.

Steve’s three horses were together in the little paddock, grazing on the sparse grass. There was a large oil drum filled with water in the paddock for them, and a trough filled with hay and horse feed.

Steve had brought a bag with them out to the paddock, and he whistled through his teeth, all three horses gathering around him at the fence. June used her nose to bump Steve on the side of the head.

He smiled at her, one a’ those real sunshiney ones he had, and kissed her between the eyes.

He dug through the bag, pulling out a few apples, a pocket knife, and a Tupperware container filled with various pills.

Billy simply watched as he cut one of the apples in half, digging out small pockets in the meat of the apple and meticulously inserting the pills. He repeated the exact same procedure with the other half of the apple and offered the first half to June.

She crunched it happily, the second half of the apple going to Loretta, a beautiful dappled horse with a dark-colored nose.

Each horse got three apple halves with the correct combination of pills.

“They each get supplements twice a day. We get the hay locally every place we stop, and depending on where the hay is grown, it can lack nutrition they need. Plus, traveling horses can get digestive problems from working hard and not having a lot of grazing opportunities. I wanna keep my girls healthy, you know?”

Loretta had wandered away after Steve set the bag on the ground, huffing as she realized apple time was over. June stayed with Steve, softly knocking her nose into his head and shoulder, making Steve laugh brightly and pet her neck.

Patsy stayed in front of Billy, and he felt like she could see into his fucking soul. Her brown eyes were huge as she appraised him, almost as if she was trying to suss out if he was good enough for her Steve.

“You can pet her, if you like. All my girls have been raised with us since they were foals, so they’re real touchy. Loretta pretends she’s too cool for it.” Loretta, as if hearing Steve say her name, gave another huff from the other side of the paddock. “Yeah! I’m talkin’ ‘bout you, Letty. We all know you’re a softy!” Steve grinned at Billy after calling out towards her, like they were sharing a joke.

Billy couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from pulling up.

He smiled a lot around Steve.

He looked back towards Patsy and mimicked the way Steve pet June, keeping his hands gentle and soft as he brushed down the length of her nose.

Her hair was so soft, and she felt like warm velvet underneath his hand.

“I’ve never been this close to a horse before,” Billy said softly, not taking his eyes off Patsy and the way his hands brushed down her strong neck.

“I love horses. Always have.” Steve had wrapped his arms around June’s thick neck, his cheek smushed to her as he looked at Billy. It was cute. Everything Steve did was cute. “Not to sound like a horse girl in a Lifetime movie, but they’re just so great. Sometimes it seems like they know everything.”

“Yeah, they’re real human.” Billy thinks it was all in the eyes. The huge, deep brown eyes.

Billy had really come to appreciate brown eyes in the last two weeks.

“June was born when I was nearly six. I’ve been riding her since I was seven or so. There weren’t a lot of kids around so she was kinda my best friend. Which. Sounds totally lame.” Steve’s cheeks went pink, and he hugged June tighter.

“How long have you had the others?”

“I’ve had Patsy for seven years. Loretta’s the newest. I just started training her for the event last summer, although I’ve had her for a while. Horses are considered fully grown when they’re five, so we don’t make them do events before then. It can be bad for their backs if you start riding them too young.” Steve absentmindedly stroked down June’s neck. “I try to keep my girls healthy and safe. If you really take care of them, they can live to be about forty, although they shouldn’t do rodeo events past fifteen-ish.”

Billy did quick math in his head.

“So, what do you think you’ll do with June when she retires?”

Steve looked out past June over to Loretta when she was trotting about the paddock.

“I always kinda had this dream. Like when I get tired of all this, of opening a ranch for old rodeo horses. Ones that are too old or sick to do events. I would take care of them and give them good food and exercise and stuff so they could have a happy retirement. Some rodeo horses are sold to people for, like, personal riding use, but they’re event trained, and usually aren’t great for, like, leisure riding, and people get mad. So, yeah. Retirement village for horses.” He buried his face into June’s neck, and Billy could see the tips of his ears were flaming in embarrassment.

“I think that’s sweet.” He really did. “Hell, you said a well taken care of horse can live for twenty years past retirement, might as well treat ‘em right.”

Steve pulled his face out of June’s neck and beamed at Billy.

Billy’s hand trembled slightly and stuttered over Patsy’s neck.

“I take each girl out for some exercise every day, you wanna help me? We can just walk ‘em.” He looked so hopeful, like all he really wanted was for Billy to hang out with his horses for the rest of the day.

And lucky for him, Billy had already called out of work for the evening, and didn’t tell his dad about it.

“Let’s do it.”

Billy stood back as Steve got June ready, smoothly slipping a halter over her face, attaching a soft rope lead to the ring on the left side of her nose.

He opened the paddock, raising one hand towards Patsy to keep her where she stood while he gently led June out, wrapping the rope lead once around his hand and holding it tightly.

Billy walked next to Steve, June on Steve’s other side as they began making their way to the edge of the fairgrounds, passing the large spread of campers and R.V.s.

The fairground was out in the boonies, outside of the San Diego city limits, and there was a significant amount of sprawling flatlands and hills, covered in emerald grass.

June trotted happily along, tossing her head and bumping into Steve’s shoulder, making him giggle and throw Billy gleeful looks at her behavior.

“Tell me something,” Steve said as they began moving downhill, guiding June on a long walk around the area.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Something about you. Something I don’t know.”

Billy cast around in his brain.

There’s a lot Steve didn’t know about him.

And for good reason, too.

He didn’t want Steve to know about that shit.

About the way his father hates him for no other reason than who he is.

The way his mother only calls him twice a year and posts on Facebook every other day about her new husband and their twin toddlers and their perfect life in Oregon.

“When I was, like, eight or nine, I watched Almost Famous, and I just fucking loved everything about it. It made me wanna be in a band so bad. I mean, they’re like a family, all going on tour. It’s so idyllic to me. That’s, like, my retirement horse dream. Make it in a band. We don’t gotta be that famous, or anything, just, like, make it .”

Steve gave him one of those soft smiles of his, and slipped his hand so naturally into Billy’s.

“I’ve never seen that movie.”

Billy gasped dramatically, swinging their hands between them.

“Oh, Stevie, we gotta see it. I don’t even care, I’m gonna make you fuckin’ love it. You’re just like Penny Lane, actually. Kind of a wanderer. Free spirit.”

Steve’s eyes were bright, and they looked gold in the late afternoon sun.

“Is that your favorite movie? Almost Famous ?”

“Yeah. Probably.” It definitely was, but he could let himself geek out over it later. He’s resolved to make Steve watch it with him, and he could be a little lame nerd kid over it then. “What’s your favorite movie? And if you say Black Beauty, I’m running away from you.”

Steve looked at him sheepishly.

“It’s not Black Beauty, but, I mean, it’s Spirit.”

“That animated one?” Billy thinks he’s seen it once or twice when he was a kid. He remembers his dad calling it propaganda.

“Yeah. I mean, I just thought it was really beautifully done. It’s kinda hypocritical, since it’s about, like, freedom and stuff, and a rodeo is totally the opposite of that, but. I don’t know. I just like it.”

“We’ll watch that one, too, then. Favorite movie double feature.”

“I would like that,” Steve said softly, taking his gaze from Billy back over to June. Steve never made much eye contact, and constantly dragged his sight somewhere else when he was embarrassed.

“Maybe I could come to your place. Hang out with you.”

Billy’s whole body went cold.

It was like the temperature had dropped forty degrees, freezing and shattering the perfect warm bubble around them. Like the soft winds stopped making the grass and sparse trees whisper in its wake. Like Billy was trapped in a freezing block of his own panic.

“No.”

Steve stopped in his tracks, and Billy clutched his hand to stop him from slipping it out of his grip.

“Sorry, I, that was really rude.” He stared at June’s front left hoof. “My dad. He doesn’t like. He hates that I. He’s a homophobe. If I-if he even thought that you, that we were, he would-”

“Hey, Bill, it’s okay. I’m, I understand.” Steve pulled their hands up to press them against his chest, brushing his thumb over Billy’s hand. “You don’t have to explain, if you don’t want. I’m sorry for suggesting it.”

“You didn’t know,” Billy said gruffly.

“And I’m not upset. Promise.”

Billy chanced a look up at Steve’s face.

He was giving him a tiny smile, his chin tilted slightly down to give Billy the most sincere look he could possibly manage with those big earnest horse eyes of his.

Billy leaned forward, pressing the softest of little kisses to that tiny smile. It was the only way he could think to let Steve know he was alright. No hard feelings.

They kept walking June mostly in silence, bringing her on a big loop of the lush field.

“My dad doesn’t really like that I’m bi,” Steve spoke unprompted, but it was clear he meant it as a response to their last conversation. “He told me when I came out to him that I’m just young and trying to be rebellious and acting out sexually and I’ll settle down with a nice girl once I’ve gotten it out of my system. I got so mad. I was fourteen. I once heard him and my mom talking about therapy. Like, you know. Therapy .”

Conversion therapy.

Fuck.

“Did they ever go through with it?”

“Nah. My mom told him that was fucked up and that whatever’s going on with me will work itself out. Now we just don’t talk about it.”

“She kinda had your back, that’s pretty cool.”

Billy told his mom he liked guys about two months before she left. She just told him not to tell his dad.

“Yeah. Ignoring it is better than the alternative, I guess.”

Billy chewed on the inside of his cheek.

They were still holding hands, despite their palms getting sweaty from being pressed together in this heat.

It was kinda gross.

Billy never wanted to let go.

“I never even told my dad. He’s so clear about his feelings about. Stuff like that. He’s ex-military, and all that comes with it. Super conservative. Religious conservative, even. So he’s pretty much against everything.”

“So, that’s why you wanna move out so soon? Not to pry, or whatever.”

“Yeah. It sucks having to hide fundamental pieces of who you are from your family. The people that are supposed to love you, but instead tell you to change your shirt before you leave the house because you look like a queer.”

He left out the parts about the backhand slap and the much more aggressive wording that actually spelled out that interaction a few days ago.

Billy had left his house feeling all kindsa cut up and pissed off and fucked Steve as hard as he could on the small table in the airstream, making the whole trailer shake and creak, just barely covering the sounds of Steve’s moans and cries.

It was a good way to work out all that rage.

There was something nice about stickin’ it to his dad by stickin’ it in Steve.

They began the climb up the slight hill back to the paddock.

“I’m sorry, Bill. I know I don’t get it, but I’m just. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

He wasn’t sorry for his father’s behavior.

He was sorry for how his father has shaped him.

How sometimes he was selfish and angry and closed-off.

How he could get mean and snarl and attack before asking questions.

But most of all, he was sorry that he was scared.

Too scared to follow Steve to the ends of the Earth, like he was absolutely fuckin’ dying to. To live in these perfect few weeks together forever.

Too scared to let go of their time together. So terrified that when their moments are finished, he’ll miss this happiness and peace so much he’ll wither into nothing.

So terrified that this is the last time he’ll ever feel like this. Feel like there’s something good and worthwhile and beautiful inside of him.

So terrified that the rage will eat away at that beautiful thing until there’s nothing left.

Steve pulled his hands out of Billy’s when they reached the paddock, and he gave Billy a gentle smile, his eyes catching the sun in a way that made every warm summer afternoon wiggle its way into Billy’s heart. The cascade of fearful thoughts stopped in Billy’s brain, and he let himself watch as Steve pet June softly, removing her halter when she was safely in the paddock once again.

Steve placed a different one on Loretta, bringing her out of the paddock next.

Loretta kept them walking a little faster, kicking her hooves up and making Billy laugh in the way she seemed to prance through the grass.

She took off in a gallop, Steve jogging along next to her, the lead wrapped once around his hand again, and Billy could hear his laughter on the summer air.

Loretta was full of energy, whinnying and braying all the time as she and Steve looped around the soft grasses.

Billy cut up the hill, moving closer towards the fairgrounds and taking a seat on the ground. He crossed his legs in front of him, leaning to rest his elbows on his thighs, propping his chin up with his hand.

The grass was impossibly soft underneath him, and Steve was smiling so wide, pretending to swing dance with Loretta, using the lead as if it was the arm of his partner, spinning himself underneath it.

There was a fat bumblebee buzzing around near Billy’s knee, landing on the tiny wildflowers sprinkled in the grass, wiggling itself in the pollen.

It was fucking.

Idyllic.

Like something from one a’ those horse girl movies Steve no doubt loved more than anything.

The sun was moving slowly through the sky.

He could just barely hear the announcer’s voice, echoing from the speakers in the event arena.

And he wished, for some time, that this was his life. Traveling with Steve. Spending warm summer days sitting in the grass while Steve exercised his beloved horses. Nothing weighing on him but what they should do for dinner that night. Whether or not Max and her little rodeo friend Elle needed some extra cash for food.

He let himself flop back in the grass, spreading his arms and legs out and watching the clouds roll by, sparse as they were.

He hates to say it. He really does. But this is the happiest he thinks he’s ever been.

Which is just. Sad. And dangerous. And not what he needs in this time-stamped little fling with someone he barely knows, despite how much he feels like their souls may be connected, or other shit the old poetry books stashed under his bed might wax and wane about.

He tried to memorize everything about this moment. How Steve squinted in the bright light, the corners of his eyes crinkling just like they did when he smiled. The way the sun warmed his skin, almost as much as Steve’s touch warmed him up.

Everything about these two weeks has been so perfect, it’s genuinely heartbreaking.

All Billy wants is to cling onto Steve, and cling onto the month for-fucking-ever.

He barely noticed the sound of hooves approaching him, and he grinned at Steve when he dropped to his knees next to Billy’s chest, his face tinged red, his brow slightly sweaty.

Loretta leaned her head down to sniff at Billy’s forehead, and Billy made Steve laugh when he went cross-eyed to watch her dark nose twitch.

His laugh made something inside Billy keel over and die.

Time is ticking down on how long he’ll get to hear that perfect sound. That lovely music of Steve’s happiness.

“You ready for Patsy?”

Loretta bumped Billy once on the head and moved to graze some of the grass next to Steve’s hip.

“Yeah,” he said.

He meant I’ll miss this too much when it’s gone.

#steve is a HORSE GIRL #i CANNOT stress this enough #anyway i highly recommend reading on ao3 because i said some stuff in the author's note but idk you don't have to if you don't want #show pony #yikes writes #rodeo au #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #anyway the more i write this fic the angstier it's getting whoops

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stormxpadme · 3 years ago

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Whumptober 2021

No. 2 - Choking

Fo.A. 21

When Eldarion first asked his lover to marry him, he didn't know what he'd expected but it certainly wasn't hysterical laughter.

"Are we going to have a deer and a rabbit as witnesses?" Unfazed by his pout, she never stopped her latest attempt of carving a proper bow. "And the Substitute Chieftain will hold the ceremony? Please let me know before you bother her with such a thing. I don't want to miss the moment she punches you in the groin."

"Well, I wasn't thinking now." More offended than he probably should be after springing this on her out of the blue, Eldarion picked back up a grooming brush and went back to preparing his gelding for the morning ride. He could swear, the dapple grey was snorting at him in amusement.

"Right now, we're here, though," Arasheniel replied, never taking her chocolate brown gaze off her knife. "And we will not be back to Gondor for a while."

Eldarion did his best to not hurl that brush back into the tack box with too much force in frustration before reaching for a hoof pick. He'd loved this girl since they'd been kids, but sometimes, he still had trouble reading her. "You're not telling me anything new. I guess I just would like to know we will go home together when the time comes."

Arasheniel's hand promptly slipped, the knife going in too deep, which made another piece of work that had started out promisingly nothing more but firewood fuel. Eldarion doubted it was only that slip furrowing her thick brows though as she got up and passed him by with merely an absent pinch of his thigh while he was trying to keep his horse from pulling its leg off his knee. "We are traveling light, Your Highness. No carrying undue burdens. Needless promises are counted among those. The future will bring what it brings." She was gone before he could answer.

With a twinge of shame, he found, he was actually relieved. This was not how this conversation had been supposed to go. Maybe he'd assumed too much. Ever since the last crisis with Mordor, Arasheniel and he had become closer, sure. But thinking about it, Arasheniel had been avoiding things becoming too serious between them from the start. Maybe this whole thing was just another of their games, of their challenges, a bit of fun and rare leisure time during the hard years that would be their training in the wilderness. The thought was more devastating than he'd expected it to.

Then again, he couldn't even resent her for wanting someone better to bind herself to. She deserved better. She deserved someone untouched, someone untainted.

Some dreams were better buried fast before they could build too high and crush you.

But that night she came to his tent after he'd fallen asleep over a mug of wine too much; when she dropped her nightgown to the ground, there was nothing underneath, and Eldarion forgot how to breathe. They had fooled around a couple of times before, sure, and Eldarion had had his adventures with a couple of men in the armies. But this night, his lover showed him for the first time what worshipping someone meant. She used her hands and her mouth on him until he had to bite his pillow to not wake half of the camp, until the patch of stars he could see through a small gap in the tent flap started to wheel around him. He wondered if this was what dying felt like. Then his face was between her slender thighs and she was pulling his hair so tightly it hurt, yet he never wanted her to stop. He was drinking from her as if her juices was all the sustenance he needed to get him through these first trials of their apprenticeship, until she bucked against him once, and then again.

Afterward, she told him, she loved him.

He believed her.

"This is all we need for the moment," she said before she left in the wake of dawn, and maybe that was enough.

***

The second time he asked her, it had just been a lot of excess energy and deep gratefulness, she told him, because she'd just saved his behind – and badly bruised one of his ribs in the process, he suspected – from a stray arrow. A parting gift by a group of orcs on the run; creatures just as strayed and lost in these slowly recovering ruin of a land as most of their group was. Arasheniel took a second to kiss him and then yelled at him for not looking out enough before going back to shoot her brand-new bow, never giving him a chance to tell her how serious he was.

She was getting pretty great with her weapon, he had half a mind to notice.

Who was he, thinking she needed him in any way?

***

The third time, he could have bet, the timing was perfect. They'd celebrated their recent progress within their tribe half of the night, and in his tent, they'd celebrated a bit more. By the time the sun started to rise, they were both covered in hickeys and bite marks and body fluids he was not sure were hers or his. That was when she announced they would have to go home for a while next year because their families would soon start to miss them and they had duties in Minas Tirith as well.

Eldarion could think of one very particular duty he'd like to take care of immediately.

But when he said it, she got up and left, shielded from looks by hardly anything more than the blanket around her fragile shape and the tight look on her face.

This time, he was seriously hurt.

"It's not you," she said when she brought him a slice of bread and some ham in the morning because he'd been in no mood to join breakfast by the fire.

"Is it not?" he asked, still sad more than anything, because he wanted to understand her. "If I did anything wrong …"

"El ..."

"Look, I know I wasn't always there for you properly. And I haven't committed to us in the beginning when I should have …"

Even when he was angry with her, the touch of her fingertips on his lips, slightly calloused from sewing needle and bowstring, sent shivers down his spine. "You don't get it. It's me who's not ready to commit. I'm not ready to give up all this up." She gestured vaguely to the frail privacy of this dirtied and patched up tent, the safety of a badly accessible clearing within half burnt-down woods, the tired whispers of a folk only just regathering after almost being wiped out by so many wars. "Not for a life in a golden cage. Not at this time."

He found himself wishing, she'd not given him a reason. Sometimes, those could hurt even more. "I thought you knew me better than expecting me to lock you up. I thought we had love."

Her lips on his, her warm, long sigh against his skin, was the promise she couldn’t give him yet. "We have so much love. But that's not all I want us to have. My parents based their marriage only on love, and you know how that ended."

Her folded hands soothingly rubbed up and down his neck because the next shivers were not some of yearning and affection. Feather-light kisses on his closed eyelids chased the image of a shattered body in the dark, a bloodied face with the same sharp cheekbones as hers, from his mind. This was also them, his anchor within the nightmares, her endless gentle nobility that he still did not think himself entirely worthy of.

She'd had so many reasons for rejecting him back then, her father's horrible ending just being the last straw. Yet she was sitting here in front of him, asking him for nothing but patience.

He thought he could give her that, but he also needed to know, the wait would not be in vain. "What more do you need?"

"When I find out, I'll let you know."

Their leader was calling, so she left while the taste of her morning tea was still sweet and thick in his mouth.

He let her go.

***

For a while, Eldarion let it rest. He knew his doe well enough to realize she would run if he pressed on. So they did what they'd come here to do. They were learning and fighting and building and growing. Tending to the land and to their hearts and to the tribe that was slowly but certainly becoming their second family. When they were lusting for each other, they did what they could do without risking a scandal in one of their tents. Then, for a little while, the shadows of the past and the fear for their future were far away. Summer was coming to an end when they were sent on their first quest alone; nothing big, really, mostly a patrol in a deserted woodlot that had allegedly been home to some more hostile orcs not too long ago. Since they could neither see nor sense danger, they ended up sparring to make themselves at least somewhat useful, and then they ended up making out a little, but when they got too tempted to indulge in things that had no place when on duty, they went back to training. While hanging upside down to work a bit on muscles that had not got much to do lately, Eldarion tested his lover in these lands' herbology which was one of her lesser strong suits and held her hand as she was balancing on a branch actually too thin to support her weight, which secretly only made him even more convinced that her father passed on to her far more drops of far-removed elvish blood than she'd ever realize. "You know, people will talk when we go home like this," he said at some point, this time, not to convince her but because it was the truth. "In his last letter, ada said, he would approve if we would at least announce our courtship."

"So that I have hundreds of people instead of just you, asking me when we'll tie the knot? No, thanks." Arasheniel let go of him to jump onto another branch where she had apparently spotted an especially tasty looking fruit. "If you're afraid of a little gossip, you shouldn't have chosen the handmaiden's daughter in the first place."

Eldarion quickly turned his head away because the sight of her teeth digging into the bright red flesh and the small rivulets of juice dripping down her chin already tried to distract him from his current unit. "What else would I do when you are the one I love?"

That seemed to please her; she was beaming at him from below. But the stubbornness he loved her for wouldn't leave her thrust-forward jaw. "What's the hurry, El, seriously? Did you know, Legolas' parents courted for thousands of years before getting married?"

"Well, sadly, I chose mortality so I don't have that time."

His grumpiness elicited one of these giggles from her that he wanted to hear every day for the rest of his life. "Eldarion Elessarion, I will marry you when the stars say it's right and not a moment sooner." After this quite final verdict, she stuffed the rest of the fruit into her mouth and jumped down to the ground elegantly, only to collapse out of the blue, grabbing her throat with both hands.

In a flash, he was cowering next to her, ready to wrap his arms around her upper body with the necessary force to help her whatever she'd managed to get in the wrong tube somehow, but then froze.

A bright green bug fell from Arasheniel's lips and crawled away slowly, visibly damaged from almost being eaten. An insect with six legs and a long, spiked snout that the last, milky drips of venom were still dripping from. They'd been warned from these things the day they had arrived here. Lethal, within a minimum of time. There was an antidote, he knew, but these animals were so rare that their tribe didn't even have it in their stashes. It took hours to make, and they were far from the current location of their camp.

"Aras, no." His voice was reduced to a toneless whisper, as if it had been him, gasping in vain through a throat swelling shut in seconds. "You need to breathe, please …" But she couldn't, he knew when he held her close to him helplessly, tears welling in his eyes as the first cramps took her. He wanted to tell her it would be alright, that he would make her better, but he'd never been a good liar. So many words he'd used in the last few months, trying to tell her he wanted to be hers forever, and now, in the last minute they would share in these parts, he couldn't think of a single one to let her know how much she meant to him. She was clutching his hand desperately while he tried to breathe air into her that could not reach her lungs, tried to empty her mouth with bare fingertips but could only feel the sickly, hot barrier at the back of her tongue.

Seconds passed that felt like years, and she was greying alarmingly quickly. Her gentle doe eyes were so very wide as she tried to hold on to his gaze, knowing perfectly well herself that it was probably the last time she was seeing him in this kind of life ... She was afraid. Never had Eldarion seen her afraid and that was so much worse than anything else. She was also angry; he could see her pupils flash even as her body betrayed her, muscles twitching with the growing pressure, legs kicking uselessly, her hand almost fracturing his bones now. She was angry with herself for not taking care, with this damn bug, with the whole world. This was the stupidest thing that could have happened. This is not an arrow she took for anyone or a sword in her chest instead of in one of their mates'. Not even an ordinary dagger thrown in the wrong moment ...

Eldarion had his own dagger – his father's parting gift – in his hand before he even realized where his panicked thoughts took his mind. This wouldn't do, this was crazy … Even if he really had the guts to try something he'd only heard about in horror legends in the Houses of Healing ... He had no tools on him, half their equipment was back in the camp because they were both stupid. They were still too fucking young and careless and ... He reached for her belt with the arm that he didn't need to hold her down and pulled out her pipe before he even knew what he was planning. He could have taken his own, too, but maybe, if it was hers, the danger of infections would be lower ... If he could manage to do anything but kill her instantly at all, that was. Probably he couldn't. Well, Legolas' wife didn't call him a butcher for nothing.

Arasheniel's too-pale lips were moving when he broke off the stem, but all that was coming from her mouth was this awful wheezing sound that carried no air. There would have been no time to discuss anyway. "I'm sorry." That was all the warning he could give her before he grabbed the dagger firmly and made the cut, willing his hands still somehow, to not go to deep and damage the wrong pipe or her vocal cords accidentally. He had to blink away blood from his eyes, and the pain had her black out instantly.

But when he slipped the end of the pipe into the hole he made, she drew a desperately needed, gurgling breath. And then another.

"Good girl. Don't you dare stop that." His lips were numb, his hands ice cold with shock when he bent down to kiss her forehead and then her lips, tasting blood. He bandaged her throat around the new intruder best as he could before being forced to leave her, to collect what he'd need to make that poison leave her body.

When he returned, their leader had found them. Her instincts had always been a match to an elf's.

She regarded him with a dry smile and a nod that looked impressed. "Is this part of Gondorian courting rituals?"

She tried to make him laugh, so he gave her a grin, weak as it was, before looking for firewood while his leader started to mix the collected ingredients in a clean bowl. "I hope not. But if I have to do this every day to get her to marry me, I guess I'll endure."

When he looked down on his lover, noticing in relief that her skin sported a healthier color now and that she was breathing more regularly, Arasheniel had her eyes open. She was smiling.

***

Two evenings later, she was well enough to breathe without aids, and the terrible wound was healing well. She was still weak though, so Eldarion didn't expect her to wake when he was done changing the bandage and lay down, curling up by her side to watch her rest.

Therefore, he startled when she suddenly spoke, her voice still a little choked from her struggle and the perverted procedure. "Can we tell mother it was an arrow? The scar?"

"I'm afraid we'd be busted quite quickly. Too many healers in our family. But if you don't tell ada that I stuck a pipe down your throat, I'll tell them, you got bitten while diving to clean a river. These bugs, they're in the water, too. Deal?"

"Deal. Is there still soup?"

His face lit up at last. The moment she got hungry again, the worst was over indeed. "I'll be right back."

"El?" She waited until he was almost gone and stared at the blanket wrapped around her in concentration when he looked back at her. "When I am your Princess Consort, will I still be a Ranger?"

"I sure hope so because I for my part will always be one. And I'm not going anywhere without you." Only belatedly, he realized what she'd just said. "Are the stars right tonight, milady?"

"Like I could see that in here, you fool." She'd regathered enough strength to throw a pillow at him. "But you were right. Life's far too short to wait. Just don't make me wear a corset."

"You would look horrible in one anyway." He quickly left for the campfire before she could think of throwing her tea mug at his head next. It didn't feel like his feet were touching the ground.

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober2021 | @whumptober-archive

#whumptober2021 #no. 2 #choking #The Lord of the Rings #fic #nsfwhump #lord of the rings #and all tolkien lore #dysfunctional elves ftw #fanfiction #stormys fanfics #eldarion

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prettieparker86 · 4 years ago

Text

The Ghost of You is Close to Me

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Sadness? set pre-WWI

Note: I’ve been trying to find my writer’s voice again. It’s felt lost and so far away from me. I still don’t feel it’s back per say. My previous characters still feel foreign to me. But when I feel the urge to write now, I try to listen. Not quite sure what this is. Watched a WWI movie the other night and this sort of rushed out of me like a flood, so I let it pour. For this I really tried to imagine what Tommy was like before the war based on the little pieces we've gotten from the show. And I wanted to explore the idea that she sensed he'd never come back, which in a way he didn't. His body did, but not the Tommy from before.

I’m not super well versed in the Romani culture and what knowledge I gained in the past feels mostly lost, I apologize. I was trying to find the word for horse, Grast was the closest I could. As with cozonac. I’m not sure if it’s really a traditional food. My research said it was. I’m trying my best. My intention is not to offend. Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks

Don’t know what I’m suppose to do, haunted by the ghost of you.

It only takes the sight of him to send you running. As fast as your horse can take you, holding tight to the notion that as long as you never stop running then he never leaves. You hide away to the place you would always run to as children. Back when Tommy's mum would drag the whole Shelby brood up into the hills, running away from her pitiful life in the city and Arthur Sr.

Its a grove of trees overlooking a deep fertile valley, the spot where you use to steal away as children. Long before you knew adults could run away from their grief as easily as little ones, and there was no mistaking it, you were running. You secure your horse to a tree branch where she can nibble away on the overgrown grass encircling the base of trunk, and settled atop a rock that's yours as much as it is the earth's. A rock that has only grown smaller over the years as you've grown bigger. Your family comes to this hills nearly every spring. As a child it never seemed different, now all you see is the changes.

Everything changes, this you know, but you swear if you just sit there long enough this change won't find you. It wont be so. Tommy wont leave. You're oldest companion. Your dearest friend. Gazing out at the valley blanketed in a tapestry of green hues, shadow and light, as the overcast sky moves above you - you tell yourself he isn't leaving. Even though the steady ache in your heart makes it feel like he's already gone. You miss him, before he's even left. You miss him... The words echo through you in shuddered vibrations that sting at your eyes, even worse at your heart, as a rogue tear manages to break free and make a run down your cheek before you briskly swipe at it.

You can't imagine him not being there. Being unreachable to you. You cant imagine not listening to Tommy's thoughts, his sparks of creativity, or the way he can make you laugh. You cant imagine him not being there. The hole he will leave, the one already opening up inside you feels unbearable, sickening, and you just want it to go away. Who will be there when you need someone most? Who will convince you things will turn out ok or you should keep fighting even when neither feel true? Who will know you? Who will see you? Really see you and genuinely care? You never felt you took his friendship for granted, never mistakenly felt there were others who could fill such big shoes, and yet now, as the chill of a breeze sweeps by you, sending goosebumps to prickle on the flesh of your arms, you wonder if you cherished that gift enough. You wonder if it meant the same to him and if he will miss you as deeply once you're gone.

You try not to think about it. You've been trying not to think about it since you received word Tommy had enlisted. You've kept yourself busy, both in mind and your hands. Filling the moments whenever he would start to creep in. But in the end its pointless. Because the more you try not to think of him, try not to miss him... The more you do. Its like trying to stop the rain by shaking your fist at the heavens. Futile and maddening. You see him when you're with the horses, whispering and enchanting them the way only his tongue and heart can do. You see him in the glow of a campfire where he'd often gets lost in his thoughts, scribbling them down or creating a loose sketch. You see him in the charming smirk of a young man, or a joke he once told you. He's everywhere. Inside you. A part of you. And denying that never made it less true.

And the thought of living without him feels terribly sad and lonely in a way your heart feels pathetic to admit and yet hopeless to reconcile. It isn't any place you want to be and yet you also have the sense to understand you have no say in that. You feel immersed in the overwhelming ache of your heart, the one that's been plaguing you for days now, when you suddenly hear the stir of your horse behind you. You glance back and watch as she pawns happily at the earth beneath her hoofs, snooting and pawing at the ground as Tommy appears nearby. She loves him. They all love him. You've often teased he's more horse than man and no one notices that more then the horses.

Tommy meets her joy with firm pats along her neck and gentles strokes to her mane and nose. "Hey girl" He greets.

Seeing him standing there both fills your heart with joy and deeper sorrow. Lean and strong, his hair tousled from his ride over, with those piercing sapphire eyes that cut you like a knife and see right through you at a glance. The sight of him like an old beloved quilt, comforting and well known, now tattered and tore as he rips from your life.

"Little bird", he says as your eyes meet. A name he gave you so long ago you cant even remember how it came to be.

"Grast", you answer back.

"How did you know I would be here?" You ask as you look away, not wanting him to see the turmoil brewing in your eyes the way you know he will.

Tommy shrugs easily, "Just knew." Just knew because he knows you, in a way most will never get to know you. Same way you trust in the way you know him and the ways he's shares himself with you.

When Tommy comes to sit beside you, it takes every ounce of willpower not to hug him desperately, beg him to change his mind, beg him not to go, but you don't, because you're sure it won't change anything.

"You heard," Tommy says, the grit of his breath stressing the weight of his words.

"You're a damn fool, Thomas Shelby. What did the crown ever do for us?"

He chuckles lightly to the fire on your breath, the bite in your words and you can see in his eyes he knows they only come from a place of love and concern for him.

"They need fighting men to win a war. " He tells you, as he pulls a cigarette from his breast pocket and strikes a match. Telling you things you both already know. As if it were that simple. As if the need for more men didn't come from the loss of the ones they have.

"Well then I oughta sign up. I can fight." You carry on as you snatch the cigarette hanging from his lip. Allowing yourself to feel the anger this situation ignites inside you, because anger feels far more powerful and safe than heartache and fear.

"ey, god help any man that stands between you and your cozonac." Tommy teases you, the crook of his mouth curling as he await your reprisal. Knowing your tales of blunder and greatest mishaps better then anyone. Your stories are his stories, your journeys connected.

You gasp in mock offense. "He would have eaten it all! Fistin’ it down like the whole roll was his!"

"A good stab of your fork put an end to that, didn' it?"

"He shouldn't have been so greedy." You feign defense and tug hotly at the cigarette, fighting back the smile pulling at the corners of your mouth to match Tommy's devilish grin. A battle you quickly lose as he elbows your side and snatches back his smoke before you jab him back. And just like that you aren't mad anymore. That's something only Tommy can do, make you laugh when you want to cry. Because he knows you... your dearest friend. The keeper of your secrets, biggest fears, and dreams. It's a gift to be known. An even bigger gift to be known and cherished for who you are. You never thought it wasn't, but you didn't realize how much you needed that gift until it was being taken away.

You both grow quiet against the steady decent of the sun at your backs. The low crinkle of burning paper fills and hovers in the space around you both as his cigarette burns down, subtle like the smoke dancing in swirls past his lips. Its the quiet moments that haunt you now. The hours and space he once filled in your life. The echoing loneliness that you know will only expand and grow in his absence. Those hours eat at you, devour you. Gnawing away until you feel raw and desperate to make them stop, because you swear you can't take another moment in that place. Only this time you know it wont stop. There will be no reprieve, no mercy, your best friend is leaving and you can't stop him. And when he's gone, this- This torturous way of existence, with its crawling of time, absence of joy, and echoing loneliness, it will fill the space his light once illuminated in your life. Like thick dark clouds rolling in over the backcountry hills to settle in around you and call you there home.

Tommy has his reasons, none more then Greta you suspect but you cant help but feel he's choosing the war over you, that he's abandoning you, as preposterous as you know that notion is. But there's nothing logical about missing someone. You can't reason it away with facts and rationality. And it doesn't care that it feels like it's killing some part of you. Nobody tells you missing someone is a physical sensation, a state of being above all else - like an empty or upset stomach, like a punch to the chest or falling off a horse that leaves you winded. It's not merely a thought and it's more than an emotion. You feel it in your bones, the tight hollows inside you, the vibrating ache of longing, the chill that settles in under your skin.

Sitting quietly side by side, you rest your head upon his shoulder. All the girls love Tommy, they always have. With his charming smile, deep set eyes that reach into the soul with a glance, and his devilish humor, its easy to see why so many would be drawn to him. And there was a time even you were too, but there was always too many things in the way and what you've built instead is deeper and more intimate because its not bound to the fickle confines of romance.

Closing your eyes, you can see it all so clearly in your mind. Replaying like a reel at the pictures... Wading in knee high murky pond water and reeds in search of frogs to catch. Covered in filth from head to toe as you battled on rain soaked mud hills with John to see who would be crowned king of the mountain. Sneaking off with mum's herbs and spices into the woods to craft witches brew and cast magic. Building campfires from dried old birch tree branches by the moonlight, to bathe in the scent of it, and tell old spine-chilling tales. Gazing up at the stars on warm summer night, seeing who could count the most. Lying awake late at night by candle light trying to read each other's mind. Hiding in the haystack to terrorize Arthur and any unlucky girl he tried to steal away with for a moment alone. Dragging you off to your first pub in Birmingham and knocking some bloke on his ass when he tried to get handsy. Trying to teach you to drive on slick muddy streets, as you swore at him like a sailor when he wouldn't stop laughing. The keeper of your deepest secrets as you are of his. The person who tried to offer you hope in your darkest moments and celebrated you greatest success. Who genuinely listened to you and sought out your thoughts on matters. The person you trusted most with the innerworkings of your heart and mind. The one you trusted would be there.

All of it feels like yesterday. The memories still fresh and vivid. The thought there wont be more to make constricts your windpipe, tightens your heart, as tears you couldn't possibly hold back any longer fill dangerously to the brim of your eyes... You don't know how to do this. You don't know how to live this. You don't know how to say goodbye to him. To let him go. Watch him disappear from your life. And the truth is... You don't wanna know. You don't want to say goodbye. And a part of you feels hurt this seems so easy for him, though you don't actually know it is. And the part of you that knows Tommy's heart, suspects it isn't so easy for him to say goodbye to you either.

The thought you might never speak to him again leaves a frantic feeling trying to rip free from your chest. How do you find peace when you long for someone still there but just beyond your reach, drifting further out to sea by the moment? How do you let them go when everything inside you screams to pull them back in? The tears feel warm as they fall down your chilled cheeks onto the shoulder of his jacket. He can't see your tears, but you swear he can feel them as he pats at your knee in an old comforting gesture you've grown to trust will be there. As Tommy pulls away, you fight with the urge to rapidly wipe away your tears and keep your pride. But as your eyes meet, you realize there's no room for pride here. Staring into his eyes you fear the silence that's already invading the space he holds.

But then he touches your face and you remember to breathe. Though his hands are rough from work, the pad of his thumb feels soft, full, and steady against your skin as he gently wipes away at the tears fallen on your face.

"I'm coming back." Tommy promises you, and you want to believe that more then you've ever wanted to believe in anything. That he will return to you. But you've heard the news of the war, the dyer news that continues to abound. And something deep and sharp within you whispers it isn't true. He isn't coming back, and that quiet piercing whisper radiates more loudly within you then the words on his lips.

"Let's make a fire," Tommy suggests as he gives your knee a final pat. You can see in his eyes he's trying to mend your heart, soften the blow. A solemn smile of acknowledgment creeping around the corners of his mouth, as if anything in the world can be solved by a stiff drink or roaring campfire.

You nod in agreement, there's nothing the dancing flames, glowing embers, crackling branches, and heady smoky aroma can't clear from your mind. Nothing like bathing in a campfire to wash your mind and soul clean.

You rise from the rock in slow unison. You gaze across the rich fertile valley below as it slowly descends into darkness all around you. Vibrant greens from early now turning to deeper winter tones as night begins to envelope all that you see. This place you know. This man you know. As you turn back to Tommy, watching as he moves past the horses.

Your eyes fall closed for a moment as you call to him. You pray he can hear you. The way he use to when you were children lying awake late at night, pretending there was magic between you. "Dearest friend... I love you and perhaps I always will. I see you're headed on a road, and I don't know where it leads, but you will take a part of me with you. It's been yours a long time. I hope you remember its there, I hope you protect it and treasure it. But I won't stand in your way, because that's what it means to love someone more then yourself." You whisper to him, not with your lips but from that place in your heart that already belongs to him. The one he gets to keep. You embrace the truth that your world will never feel the way it did before. You will never feel like you did before. That a part of you dies with him as he slips away. You acknowledge this new reality for what it is, whether you know how to live it or not, whether you even want to.

You take a deep breath and slowly open your eyes.

He's gone.

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #I'm trying my best

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saintheartwing · 4 years ago

Text

Promised Neverland, Season 2, Episode 8 Review...

They are SUPER. RUSHING. THIS. It’s just incredibly lame. It’s frankly just insulting. The “new story” that the author decided to adapt? You know what they did? They went the Batman vs Superman “Save...Marthaaaaa” route.

Let me explain. It begins with Norman meeting Peter Ratri.Isabella introduces him. He’s his “new father”.

“But you can call me Peter. Peter Ratri. I’d like your assistance with my research!”

How exciting! Norman can study all he wants now. But Norman knows what’s up. He knows he’s just a product even now. Maybe not FOOD but...still a product.

Norman is soon shown taking tests. He hunches over a screen quickly scanning things left and right, it’s super atmospheric alright, and his test scores are amazing. Perfect scores every time despite them increasing in difficulty. It’s fantastic. Lambda 7214 is lucky to have him.

Norman is soon eating alone in his room as the other scientists marvel over his skills. He’s got mad skills, alright. MAAAAD SKIIIILZ.

Peter Ratri is pleased by this. The kid’s perfect for Lambda’s upcoming plans. The era of James Ratri the gatekeeper is over. Now HE’LL control the farms and he shan’t give them an inch of hope.

The scientist behind him frowns visibly. And meanwhile, Norman’s found something. A litle puzzle box like a rubix cube. A note put into it. And who put it in there? An African American young man named Vincent.

We get to briefly see peeks of the folks that Norman would make into his friends. Tiny brief glimpses of horrors...and cute little rooms full of toys and dolls...while on the opposite side, Demons are tearing kids apart...

He will live. He will live and keep living to see everyone again-

Then he begins to cough up blood. Ohhh dear. He’s sick. Super sick. He doesn’t have much time left. He begins to put it together. He has six cameras in the room. 15 personnel at night. But he can gain explosives. He just needs parts for a detonator, he says to himself, playing a chess game.

CHECKMATE.

And then it happens. SHAAA-BOOOOM! The facility gets blown up. People are dead all over. Blood has pooled around. His plan worked. Mr. Smee, the friendly scientist, helped him pull it off, and gives him a pen as Vincent and he go to save the only remaining older kids left...who would become his gang. “Are you God?” Barbara asks.

Framed by the red alarm light...Norman looks more like the Devil.

But unluckily for the demons left over and captured, the only ones left alive, well...Norman kinda needs some more data on demons...and, well...turnabout is fair play...

We cut back to the present. Norman knows he’s soon to die. But he wants to create a safe world for Emma...

Meanwhile, Emma and Ray and Don and Gilda are out searching for Mujika and Sonju. They need to find someplace with multiple escape routes that would also be easy to hide in. Luckily, they know such a place, and they found footprints...

Alas, it’s not them. It’s something that walks on six feet. Nope. Small, wild demon. Maybe...this place? Nope. Nope! Nope, nope, nope! They keep looking around, disguised as demons to avoid detection but no luck at all, and time is passing quickly.

Then they get a break. The birds! The birds the two like to hunt. If they’d be hunting the birds, it’d be in a nice, big, wide-open place. But they need to be careful...this is home to a wild demon. A big, huge large one...with really lousy CGI, for the record.

Their first day has not gone well. They have to set up camp for the night. Four days left...

Norman and his gang are gathering up the potion as our heroes keep searching. Norman seems...preoccupied...

Our heroes are determined to find Mujika and Sonju. Without the evil blood, they can’t fix anything...but they’re quickly running out of time. Only two days left now!

Our gang is at the very last spot. There’s a lot of wild demons here, so they need to be careful, but...this is the last spot they have left to check. Their last hope. And...

They’ve found horse hoof prints! Could it be them?

Norman, meanwhile, is thinking about how kind Emma and Ray are. He’s determined not to waver. He WILL save all the kids in the farms. If he has to be God OR the Devil...he’ll become it...

And now...it’s gotten dark. Our gang is in deep trouble. A wild demon has found them! They have to attack, using their bows and arrows. Emma decides she’ll draw them off...

As Sonju and Mujika find the necklace Emma drops in her haste! They have to go rescue her. Ray pops out of nowhere, letting an arrow fly, and...THA-SHUDDA! Right in the eye! Center of the head! He deeeeead! That was, admittedly, a real nice moment. But...

Oh shit, it’s NOT dead. In its final throes its maw reaches out to engulf her and then...

SHA-SCHLIIISCH! OFF WITH YOUR HEEEAAAAD! Sonju slices its head off. Mujika and Sonju have found them! They ask what happened, and Emma begins to explain what’s going on...or rather, they’re ABOUT to when--

KA-BOOOOOOOOM! A distinct, loud explosion.

Uh oh. Norman decided to start a bit early. The town is being attacked. Explosions rocket through the town and the demons begin breathing in the gas...and those that do become monstrous, attacking even their family.

The experiment appears to be a rousing success. It’s a horrifying scene, admittedly. It looks disgusting. People are burning left and right as Norman and his gang nonchalantly make their way into town to just...watch it burn. It’s one of the only moments where things actually look really, really good...it’s creepy, atmospheric and horrifying to behold.

The good news is that Mujika and Sonju just agree to start running.

Meanwhile at the town, the nice grandpa demon that Emma had met in the temple has arrived back at town and found it on fire! And who knows where his granddaughter and family are? And then...

We find out his granddaughter’s name...right when Norman has a big-ass knife and is about to run the girl through the back.

Emma. Her name’s Emma.

...yeeeaaaah. They did the Superman and Batman “OMG OUR MOMMAS GOT THE SAME NAMES” thing. A blatant attempt to try and get Norman to empathize with the demons by showing familial love of demons right in front of him and with the girl having the very same name as the one he so dearly cares for. And then unfortunately it gets bad. They see Norman. They realize he’s a human. And unfortunately...then the gas hits them.

The granddaughter begins mutating...the grandfather isn’t.

Norman realizes...holy fucking shit. The guy has “the evil blood”. So he tries to stab the guy and...what comes out is red blood. “Emma...drink this blood and run.” Grandpa Demon insists. He has her drink from his hand, Norman looking at his blood-stained hands. Red blood.

Emma the demon is now crying uncontrollably as her grandpa tries to comfort her. “Even if I die. I want you to at least live.” “No! Grandpa! I want you to live with me!”

Norman is now feeling tears springing to his eyes. He looks around and is seeing the horror being unleashed. Children are screaming for their parents to stop eating people...themselves included. Some brave demon souls are desperately trying to keep the mutated from attacking families. “Why am I wavering?” Norman wonders aloud. “I knew this from the very beginning...there’s no other way...”

Especially not with the time he has left...

Norman can’t bring himself to bring the knife down and then he hears...

“NORMAN!”

He turns around...

And there Emma and Ray are...

And they see him. As he ACTUALLY is. A scared, horrified child with a knife in his hands.

“This time...I’m not letting you go alone!” Emma says.

And...the episode ends.

Well...gee. You know...this was probably one fo the best episodes because of the stuff with the town, but thinking about ALL this season sacrificed to get there...

It’s just like...it’s like being served, instead of the meal you ordered, a different meal completely that tastes fine...but you didn’t order it or ask for it. You wanted a steak. Not chicken. Sure the chicken is delicious but...you did specifically want a steak and EXPECT a steak. Not a chicken, no matter how tasty it is.

#the promised neverland #promised neverland #season 2 #episode 8 #spoilers #Norman #Emma #Ray

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therainroguefanfiction · 3 years ago

Text

♞ The Dragonstone (Bofur) #4 – Elven Blades

📑 Table of Contents / Previous Chapter

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

“What do we do?” Bofur whispered as he leaned forward on the horse, one hand clutching the reigns and the other his weapon. “We have ta do somethin’!”

“Stay with Durnahviir, I will handle it.”

“I don’t think so,” he shook his head before throwing his leg over the side and jumping down, his feet crunching on the fallen leaves. Both of us froze for a moment to make sure the trolls hadn’t heard us. “You’re not going without me.”

“You will just slow me down.”

“Don’t worry,” he grinned, gripping his hammer with both hands. “I won’t get in your way.”

“Wait!”

I snapped my head back toward the bushes at Bilbo’s sudden shout and Bofur leaned up on his tip toes to see through. Just what is that hobbit planning on doing?

“You are making a terrible mistake.”

“You can’t reason with them,” Dori cried from where he was tied to the metal. “They’re half-wits!”

I clicked my tongue. “Insulting them certainly is not the best strategy.”

“He’s right, though,” Bofur shrugged.

“Half-wits? What does that make us?” Nori questioned, also tied to the pole.

“I meant with the, uh,” Bilbo managed to pull himself to his feet despite his small body being incased in a cloth sack. He hopped toward them. “With the seasoning.”

The troll on the right squinted at him, leaning closer. “What about the seasoning?”

“Well have you smelt them?” the hobbit questioned with a smile, glancing at the pile of dwarves behind him. “You’re gonna need something stronger than sage before you plat this lot up.”

“Traitor!” The dwarves started to struggle, sending insults and curses toward him.

“He’s helping the trolls?” Bofur muttered, his brow furrowed.

“He’s stalling for time,” I commented. “Very smart, that one.”

“You don’t… think I smell, right?”

I sent him a deadpan look and he smiled sheepishly.

“What do you know about cooking dwarf?” the troll on the left demanded, not stopping the turning of the pole.

“Shut up,” the right troll glared at him before stepping closer. “Let the, uh, flurgaburburhobbit talk.”

Bilbo sent him a thankful smile before looking between the three trolls. “The secret to cooking dwarf is, um…”

“Yes? Come on.”

“It’s, uhh…”

“Tell us the secret.”

“Yes, yes. I’m telling you. The secret is…”

I smacked my face with a sigh. “He’s losing it…”

Bofur chuckled. “I dunno, I think this is kinda amusing.”

“Of course you do.”

Durnahviir snorted from behind us, soft enough to not be heard by those on the other side of the bush but loud enough to convey his own amusement. I shot him a look and he stomped his hoof.

“See? He agrees!”

“Being agreed with by a horse is not something to brag about, dwarf.”

“To…” Bilbo’s face suddenly lit up as he found the word his brain had been grasping at. “…skin them first!”

The dwarves were not happy, screaming and yelling at the hobbit as they struggled harder than before. Even Bofur took a step back, his nose wrinkling at the thought.

“I’m beginning to wonder if he’s really on our side…”

I grunted in reply, slowly pulling my sword from its sheath.

“Tom, get me filleting knife,” the right troll ordered, not taking his eyes off of the hobbit.

“I’ll get you, ya little -” Gloin cried out, struggling against the sack his body was encased in.

“I won’t forget that,” Dwalin promised as he pointed angrily at the hobbit. “I won’t forget it!”

“What a load of rubbish,” the left troll rolled his eyes. “I’ve eaten plenty with their skins on. Scarf them, I say. Boots and all.”

“He’s right,” agreed the troll in the middle as he came around toward the pile. “Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf,” he grabbed Bombur, holding him high up off the ground. “Nice and crunchy~”

“N-No-Not that one,” Bilbo panicked. “He’s infected!”

“Huh?!” the middle troll that had been sticking his tongue toward Bombur suddenly recoiled with wide eyes.

“You what?”

“Yeah, he’s got worms… in his… tubes.”

“Ew!”

Bombur was dropped onto the pile, landing across Kili as the troll recoiled, wiping his hand furiously on the cloth that he wore on his body.

“In fact, they all have. They are infested with parasites. It’s a terrible business. I wouldn’t risk it. I really wouldn’t.”

“Parasites?” Oin leaned toward Kili. “Did he say parasites?”

“We don’t have parasites!” Kili protested angrily, making the hobbit groan. “You have parasites!”

“I’ve heard enough,” I muttered, parting the bush as I hopped to the other side, brandishing my blade. “You have that which belongs to me. Release the dwarves or you will be slain where you stand, trolls.”

“Another one!”

“This time a woman, more meat to eat.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had woman.”

“Ronan!” Kili cried, his voice filled with annoyance and relief. “Don’t listen to him, I don’t have parasites!”

I resisted the urge to smack myself in the face, keeping my eyes planted on the trolls before me as I turned my body slightly. My left foot was placed sideways behind my right, both hands holding the handle of the blade as it was poised in front of me. “This is your last warning. If you wish to keep whatever miserable life you lead, I suggest you do as I say.”

“I’ll handle this,” Left troll huffed as he stepped away from the pole. He reached out his large hand to grab me and my eyes narrowed, preparing my body to strike.

“Leave her alone!” Kili yelled.

“Don’t you touch her!” Fili cried.

“Don’t hurt her!” Ori pleaded.

At the last possible second, I stepped to the right to avoid his hand, flipping the blade and stabbing it straight through his hand. He roared in pain, stumbling backward. I seized my chance, slicing the blade across his ankle to ensure that he fell. And fall he did, straight into the fire behind him. His back hit the metal pole, knocking it down and away from the fire. The dwarves screamed and hollered as it rolled backward.

Right troll growled, picking up a frying pan and swinging it at me. I dodged backward with a scowl, twisting my body around but before I could strike, Bofur came rushing from the bushes with his hammer poised. Since the troll was focused on me, he was not able to react in time and took the weapon to the gut, making him stumble backward.

“Bofur!” the dwarves cried in relief.

The three trolls righted themselves and started to advance. Movement caught my eye and my gaze flickered to the rockface behind them, a smile coming to my lips as Gandalf appeared, the sun shining across his back.

“The dawn will take you all,” he bellowed.

“Who’s that?”

“No idea.”

“Can we eat him too?”

With both hands, Gandalf slammed his staff down onto the stone, splitting it down the middle. Sunlight poured through the crack and, as soon as the light touched them, they started to turn to stone where they stood, cries of pain and annoyance leaving their lips. A breath of silence and then the dwarves started to laugh loudly as the sun shined down upon them.

“Get your foot out of my back!” Dwalin cried, struggling against the rope.

Gandalf’s eyes met mine and he nodded, though he did not look happy. I cannot blame him – he trusted me to keep them safe and they were almost made into a smelly dish not fit for anyone to eat.

Bilbo released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, leaning against my side. “Thank goodness.”

I turned toward him, untying the string at the top of the sack. It fell to the ground and he stepped out of it before heading over to the pile to help them. I approached the pole, kneeling down and carefully slipping my blade beneath the rope and slicing through it. I offered Dori my hand, which he took with a grateful smile.

“Thank you, lassi.”

Gandalf made his way down, observing the scene before tapping one of the trolls with his staff. I approached him, bowing my head. “Forgive me, Gandalf. I… got distracted.”

“I figured,” he regarded me for a moment before a soft smile came to his lips. “But you did come to their rescue, so you’re forgiven.”

Thorin stepped over to us, regarding the wizard suspiciously. “Where did you go to, if I may ask?”

“To look ahead,” he answered.

“What brought you back?”

“Looking behind.”

I quirked a brow at him and he winked before turning back to the king.

“Nasty business. Still, they’re all in one piece.”

“No thanks to your burglar.”

I scoffed, folding my arms over my chest. “Do you not understand? I assumed that you were wiser than that, but it appears that I assumed wrong.”

“What did you say?” his eyes narrowed at me and Gandalf stepped closer, putting his shoulder between the two of us.

“He had the nous to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that.”

Thorin’s face shifted to one of realization, his eyes widening. He sent me a look that could almost be portrayed as one of apology before nodding his head. This one is going to be trouble for us. King or not, his attitude will be his downfall.

“They must have come down from the Ettenmoors,” Gandalf mused thoughtfully.

“Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?”

“Not for an age,” the wizard shook his head. “Not since a darker power ruled these lands.”

“Do you believe that they were run off?” I questioned him, sharing a concerned look with the small king.

“It is possible. They wouldn’t have much reason otherwise,” Gandalf turned his gaze to the sky, quickly filling with bright light. “They could not have moved in daylight.”

“There must be a cave nearby,” Thorin realized, turning his head to scan the area around us.

“What purpose would it serve to check?” I inquired, quirking a brow at the two males. “There may even be another within.”

“It is worth checking out,” Thorin responded resolutely before turning and heading away from us, looking for the cave.

I clicked my tongue. “Stubborn dwarves.”

“It’s frustrating, isn’t it?” Gandalf questioned, a sparkle in his eye as he raised his brow. I could not be sure, but something told me that he was partly referring to me. I chose not to comment.

“Durnahviir,” I called out, waiting for the horse to make his way through the bushes. He lightly tapped Bofur on the shoulder as he passed by, earning a gentle pat on his side and a smile from the dwarf. “Can you smell the cave that the trolls were staying in? I imagine it does not smell well.”

In response, he tilted his head toward the sky, large nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. It was not until the breeze kicked up that he finally caught the scent, turning around and heading off to the south. Gandalf and I followed, the rest of the group realizing that they, too, should follow. It was not long before we found the cave in question, the smell strong before we even approached the opening.

Durnahviir snorted, stomping his hooves on the ground before taking a few steps backward. My nose wrinkled but Gandalf did not hesitate to step into the cave, using his hand to pull up his robe. With a sigh, I followed close behind him.

“Oh, what’s that stench?”

“It’s a troll-hoard,” Gandalf explained. “Be careful what you touch.”

“Seems a shame just to leave it lying around,” Bofur commented as he stopped in front of a pile of golden coins. “Anyone could take it.”

“Agreed,” said Gloin. “Nori.”

“Yeah?”

“Get a shovel.”

I stepped farther into the cave, keeping close to Gandalf with my hand resting upon the handle of my sword, just in case something were to happen, though I did not expect it to. Thorin reached for one of the various weapons sitting in barrels against the back wall, covered in dust and cobwebs that had my skin crawling. If there were spiders here, I would most certainly lose it.

“Hold this,” Thorin thrusted the torch in my face and I sent him a look but took it nonetheless, holding it as he picked up another sword, examining them closely. “These swords were not made by any troll.”

I raised the torch, squinting against the low light as my eyes roamed the blades within his hands. Looking upon them, I had the sense that they were made by elven hands, but I did not think it wise to mention that in the dwarf’s presence.

Curious, Gandalf turned toward us, taking one of the swords from the small king. “Nor were they made by any smith among men,” he carefully lifted the sword, allowing it to slide just enough from its sheath in order to see the blade. “These were forged in Gondolin… by the high elves of the First Age.”

Thorin’s face, once full of curiosity and wonderment, turned dark and full of rage at the wizard’s words and he started to place the weapon back in its place, earning an annoyed look from the wizard.

“You could not wish for a finer blade,” stated Gandalf, making the king take pause.

“He is right, you know,” I added from beside him. “The elves are many things – mostly selfish creatures who hide from the woes of the world, but their craft is unparalleled. It would be foolish to refuse such a weapon.”

“I did not ask for your opinion, lass.”

“And I do not need your permission to give it, dwarf.”

We shared a heated glare for a moment before he grunted, pulling the blade from its sheath with vigor. Despite his ill will toward the elves, even I could see that he appreciated the blade as he looked it over and for good reason.

Gandalf sheathed his blade again, nose wrinkling as the dust and webbing stuck to his hand. Behind us, the dwarves were scrambling to dig a hole in the ground where they stuck a box of golden coins and trinkets. I stopped beside Dwalin, the both of us looking down at the three.

“What are you doing, exactly?”

“We’re making a long-term deposit,” answered Gloin.

Dwalin chuckled as he watched them covering the chest with dirt. His gaze met mine when he glanced over and the amused look quickly dropped as his eyes narrowed. I had not yet earned his trust and I had to wonder if I would. It mattered little to me, really. I do not need their trust in order to protect them. I am not here to befriend these dwarves though I have no intent to make things more tense than they presently are.

“Let’s get out of this foul place,” Thorin ordered, his eyes sweeping the cave one last time before he started up the incline toward the exit. “Come on, let’s go.”

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#the hobbit #bofur #the hobbit bofur #lotr #the lord of the rings #lord of the rings #the dragonstone

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