Sophinisba Solis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sophinisba) wrote2007-11-15 01:37 pm
sophinisba) wrote2007-11-15 01:37 pm
Entry tags:
remixthedrabble: LotR
In the last round of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
remixthedrabble, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hyel did two really wonderful remixes of my LotR ficlets: The Bree Story (A Potter Perspective Remix), from the HP crossover I was doing in comments a couple months ago, and Left Behind in the Lockholes (The Outlook Remix) from At the Lockholes, the first piece of fanfic I ever wrote. O my fellow fans of stories of hobbits in prison, do check this one out!
I wrote Touch of Stone (The Breathless Remix) from Dana's A Touch of Cold Stone. Pippin/Denethor, PG, 100 words (5 by 20).
Minas Tirith rushed at him fast enough to leave him gasping, grasping at the horse’s hair, at his failing faith.
The Lord of Minas Tirith – Pippin’s Lord, now – stared still as stone, and stole his breath in quite another way.
Laughter dried up and choked him before it could leave his mouth. What would Merry say if he could see?
Cold, bare stone under Pippin’s knees made him ache, while Denethor’s fingers sliding smooth on his skin made him tremble.
His own song, when taken by force, burned his throat and eyes. What would his lord take from him next?
remixthedrabble, hyel did two really wonderful remixes of my LotR ficlets: The Bree Story (A Potter Perspective Remix), from the HP crossover I was doing in comments a couple months ago, and Left Behind in the Lockholes (The Outlook Remix) from At the Lockholes, the first piece of fanfic I ever wrote. O my fellow fans of stories of hobbits in prison, do check this one out!I wrote Touch of Stone (The Breathless Remix) from Dana's A Touch of Cold Stone. Pippin/Denethor, PG, 100 words (5 by 20).
Minas Tirith rushed at him fast enough to leave him gasping, grasping at the horse’s hair, at his failing faith.
The Lord of Minas Tirith – Pippin’s Lord, now – stared still as stone, and stole his breath in quite another way.
Laughter dried up and choked him before it could leave his mouth. What would Merry say if he could see?
Cold, bare stone under Pippin’s knees made him ache, while Denethor’s fingers sliding smooth on his skin made him tremble.
His own song, when taken by force, burned his throat and eyes. What would his lord take from him next?
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