qkellie, runriggers, demonbrat_98, kathyh, hurry_sundown, girlmacbeth, and liliaeth; happy birthday to cbtreks and timeofchange.I’ve been rather quiet lately; no LJ posts at all for over a week, no fic at all (not even a drabble) for over a month. Partly this has been because of work, partly because of the European Football Championships, and partly because I’ve been struggling with the next chapter of ‘Tabula Avatar’. I wanted to write it entirely from the points of view of characters not part of the main group, portraying them from the outside, but it didn’t quite work despite several re-writes. I had to give up and zoom in on the party for one scene. It ended up longer than I had expected, too, and a particular plot development has had to be held back for a while. I have one more scene to write before the chapter is finished but I’m on a run of nights at work and it will probably appear early next week.
Recently my wife has been obsessed with ‘Lord of the Rings’ fic. I’m trying to avoid it affecting me (with the exception of these two and a half drabbles) but today
beer_good_foamy posted a drabble, Everybody Knows Men Never Ask Directions, that cried out for a response. Or perhaps ‘retaliation’ would be a better word... Rating G, 100 words, read beer_good_foamy’s drabble first.The Only Way To Travel
The eleventh member of the Fellowship was short for a human, clad in strange garments that were spotlessly clean, and his shoes gleamed with a shine that indicated that he was unaccustomed to treks through the wilderness.
“Your intention is that we should walk? Quelle horreur!” he exclaimed. His neatly waxed moustache bristled. “We are not the barbarians.”
Boromir scowled. “And how else are we to reach Mount Doom, Poirot?”
“By the train, of course, mon ami,” Poirot replied. “Are we not the people most civilized? There is only one acceptable way to go there. Mordor on the Orient Express.”
