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Entry tags:
Drabble meme
Well, this is an interesting little exercise. Been seeing it around, (gacked it from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
danachan) and am letting a couple of lines cook in the ol' oven.
Here's my list, in case anybody's interested. *snort*
In case you haven't heard, the way it works is you pick one of my lines and use it as a first line in a drabble of your own. Because some of my first lines are quite long, and set too much of the story, I've cheated just a little and shortened them. If that's not ok, feel free to slap my wrist!
"Mmm...yes."
All his life, he'd been a gardener.
Pippin rounded on Gandalf with a furious look.
I've a word or two to say to you.
The elves say everything began with a song.
No one could make him laugh like Pippin.
He sat up in bed, his eyes straining into the darkness.
What I had not counted on was how much I would come to love him.
"And did he, Dad?"
I have always loved you.
Here I stand on the shore, the white gulls flying.
The sting of the slap didn't surprise him.
"He's dying, Sam."
This dream had enveloped him before, he realized.
"So tell me about him."
"Uhhn," I grunt as he shoves me against the wall.
It must be that I've died.
The nib of my pen scratches like a live thing.
And just for fun, here are some first lines from fics none of you have read, 'cause they pertain to another fandom. I'd love to see what any LOTR writers would do with them. ;) (ETA: D'oh! I just realized a couple of them are too modern, so I've modified 'em.)
The slowly growing light brings the room into focus.
She stood by the rail near the stairway, the crowds swirling around her.
Ah, his head was spinning, blackness threatening and seducing him.
“What is it?" I ask.
The bed is cool, the sheets crisp.
His muscles sing to the rhythm of the water.
The light from the doorway outlines his face and the curve of his shoulder.
It was the scent that haunted her.
Is it the earth, or is it the air?
He raised his glass, dark amber eyes reflecting the candle glow.
It happens in a darkened, narrow hallway.
He was my flower.
His hair shone in the lamplight, thick and soft on my fingers.
There’s a dark crimson stain on my fingers.
Shit, it’s hot.
danachan) and am letting a couple of lines cook in the ol' oven.Here's my list, in case anybody's interested. *snort*
In case you haven't heard, the way it works is you pick one of my lines and use it as a first line in a drabble of your own. Because some of my first lines are quite long, and set too much of the story, I've cheated just a little and shortened them. If that's not ok, feel free to slap my wrist!
"Mmm...yes."
All his life, he'd been a gardener.
Pippin rounded on Gandalf with a furious look.
I've a word or two to say to you.
The elves say everything began with a song.
No one could make him laugh like Pippin.
He sat up in bed, his eyes straining into the darkness.
What I had not counted on was how much I would come to love him.
"And did he, Dad?"
I have always loved you.
Here I stand on the shore, the white gulls flying.
The sting of the slap didn't surprise him.
"He's dying, Sam."
This dream had enveloped him before, he realized.
"So tell me about him."
"Uhhn," I grunt as he shoves me against the wall.
It must be that I've died.
The nib of my pen scratches like a live thing.
And just for fun, here are some first lines from fics none of you have read, 'cause they pertain to another fandom. I'd love to see what any LOTR writers would do with them. ;) (ETA: D'oh! I just realized a couple of them are too modern, so I've modified 'em.)
The slowly growing light brings the room into focus.
She stood by the rail near the stairway, the crowds swirling around her.
Ah, his head was spinning, blackness threatening and seducing him.
“What is it?" I ask.
The bed is cool, the sheets crisp.
His muscles sing to the rhythm of the water.
The light from the doorway outlines his face and the curve of his shoulder.
It was the scent that haunted her.
Is it the earth, or is it the air?
He raised his glass, dark amber eyes reflecting the candle glow.
It happens in a darkened, narrow hallway.
He was my flower.
His hair shone in the lamplight, thick and soft on my fingers.
There’s a dark crimson stain on my fingers.
Shit, it’s hot.
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“Gimli,” he calls. “It is time.”
It will be good to see this journey’s end.
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Thanks for such a good read :)
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*wishes them a fair and swift journey*
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