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Reflections
Sep. 9th, 2006 12:32 pmThe days are winding towards spring, but the nights are still chill and the deck is in the cold breeze. I hunch over my tea, the thick clay mug warming my fingers. They’re cold, but it’s an ordinary sort of cold from being out in the weather, not the bloody creeping numbness from before.
I never featured myself as some new-agey git, drinking weed tea. Specially not some weed that isn’t supposed to exist. I’d put that up to Viggo, not me. But here I sit. It’s a relief knowing the fucking wrong thing in my brain isn’t mine. The black fucker is there, dangerous though.
I’m trying to make it easier for them, being out where they can see me. I don’t know if it’s more than one, but I know they’re watching me. Faramir perhaps, because it was Dave that told me they had to be sure the Wraith was contained.
Faramir . . . I’d like to meet him. Or Aragorn or Elrond. Or any of them, really. The heroes. I’ve never been cast as the hero, don’t have the face for it and I’ve been bloody happy doing what I’m doing. Being someone that Pete can depend on. I never would have guessed that it would turn out to be so fucking dangerous.
Dave asked, but I couldn’t remember taking a trip to Craig’s old house. But he told me there’s a portal fucking Middle Earth back there. Which is tilted beyond saying. And so’s the rest of what he said, the Elf queen nodding the whole time in agreement. Surreal fucking moments.
His story explained everything that’s been happening to me, damn him. Morgoth trying to tear holes in reality, using us to help him. I shiver, sooked. Balrogs . . . wargs . . . Bad enough, but the only thing worse than what I am would be Sauron himself.
Sadwyn
Tears track down my face and I can’t stop them. He can’t ever come back here, not ever be near me again. Not with this thing in my head and him being Eldarion. That would get Morgoth what he wanted, to break the line of kings by killing Aragorn’s son. My little boy would be a target for them.
I could end it, take myself out of the fight, deny him. Would that keep my son safe though? The actors who played bad shit are still out there. No, I’m in this fight and I’ll stick it.
Sipping the last of my tea, I feel the peace it gives me flowing through my veins. Learning the truth was a fucking nightmare, but I’m not alone anymore. I hoist my mug to whoever it is in the shadows, guarding against me.
The dark thing retreated, waiting, hoarding his strength against the insidious effects of the foul herb. He had not anticipated the interference of the Elf-witch, and his anger spread and grew cold as he deliberated his vengeance against her. Khamûl had obeyed the command to cause death and chaos, but could no longer act on his own. He sent out a small tendril of thought, a plea for aid.
I never featured myself as some new-agey git, drinking weed tea. Specially not some weed that isn’t supposed to exist. I’d put that up to Viggo, not me. But here I sit. It’s a relief knowing the fucking wrong thing in my brain isn’t mine. The black fucker is there, dangerous though.
I’m trying to make it easier for them, being out where they can see me. I don’t know if it’s more than one, but I know they’re watching me. Faramir perhaps, because it was Dave that told me they had to be sure the Wraith was contained.
Faramir . . . I’d like to meet him. Or Aragorn or Elrond. Or any of them, really. The heroes. I’ve never been cast as the hero, don’t have the face for it and I’ve been bloody happy doing what I’m doing. Being someone that Pete can depend on. I never would have guessed that it would turn out to be so fucking dangerous.
Dave asked, but I couldn’t remember taking a trip to Craig’s old house. But he told me there’s a portal fucking Middle Earth back there. Which is tilted beyond saying. And so’s the rest of what he said, the Elf queen nodding the whole time in agreement. Surreal fucking moments.
His story explained everything that’s been happening to me, damn him. Morgoth trying to tear holes in reality, using us to help him. I shiver, sooked. Balrogs . . . wargs . . . Bad enough, but the only thing worse than what I am would be Sauron himself.
Sadwyn
Tears track down my face and I can’t stop them. He can’t ever come back here, not ever be near me again. Not with this thing in my head and him being Eldarion. That would get Morgoth what he wanted, to break the line of kings by killing Aragorn’s son. My little boy would be a target for them.
I could end it, take myself out of the fight, deny him. Would that keep my son safe though? The actors who played bad shit are still out there. No, I’m in this fight and I’ll stick it.
Sipping the last of my tea, I feel the peace it gives me flowing through my veins. Learning the truth was a fucking nightmare, but I’m not alone anymore. I hoist my mug to whoever it is in the shadows, guarding against me.
The dark thing retreated, waiting, hoarding his strength against the insidious effects of the foul herb. He had not anticipated the interference of the Elf-witch, and his anger spread and grew cold as he deliberated his vengeance against her. Khamûl had obeyed the command to cause death and chaos, but could no longer act on his own. He sent out a small tendril of thought, a plea for aid.
