The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - A new story, with the real feel of Middle-Earth.

Iaurlachien · 08-25-2002, 02:50 AM

I came up with this, kinda like an unplanned plot.

It was extremely cold in the forest, being winter. The wind was rushing through the trees. Their leaves seemed to sparkle in the soft morning sunlight. It had stopped raining and everything was quiet and peaceful. Through the un-named forest walked a black thing. One that would have come upon the beast could hardly have told what it was, it being as black as the forest itself. It’s fur was shining like polished silver, water dripping from it. Almost cat-like the animal seemed, by watching the way it moved. No-one was usually out at this hour, and the beast knew it. It was looking for something, but did apparently not quite know what, because it was wandering around in no particular direction. It looked about the trees and turned its head up to the sky, day was coming. The night was fading quickly now. The cat sat down to lick the water from it’s paws. Suddenly, a flash, a black flash it seemed. The sound of hooves on the wet soil ground. Then it was gone. Quickly the cat got up from the ground and disappeared behind a big strong oak tree. When coming back into sight, the beholder would not have known what to do or to thing. First one bare foot stepped onto the wet grass, then another. A hand was trying to find a grip through the branches. Then a black figure climbed out of the bushes behind the oak tree. It was a woman, Rothallë was her name, Muirë she was also called. She swung her black hair behind her delicate shoulders. Drops of dew fell off it sparkling like a thousand stars on a clear night. Clad in black she was, wearing a black cloak around her shoulders pinned with a silver brooch that looked like a leaf. Her eyes shone, bright green with spots of yellow. One could say that the sparkles of the brightest sunlight were in her eyes. Then, another black flash came, but she did not appear to be afraid. She cried out in a language unknown to most of the living creatures of her age and only spoken when being with beasts. Out of the thick forest stepped a horse. It was a fierce and noble steed, it was her horse Winter’s Sorrow. Rothallë leaped upon its strong back and grabbed its long beautiful manes, for the horse had no bridle on. “Quick”, she said to the horse, and away it leaped into the breaking daylight, heading South.

08-25-2002, 02:50 AM	#30
Iaurlachien Pile O'Bones Join Date: Aug 2002 Location: The blue mountains Posts: 23	I came up with this, kinda like an unplanned plot. It was extremely cold in the forest, being winter. The wind was rushing through the trees. Their leaves seemed to sparkle in the soft morning sunlight. It had stopped raining and everything was quiet and peaceful. Through the un-named forest walked a black thing. One that would have come upon the beast could hardly have told what it was, it being as black as the forest itself. It’s fur was shining like polished silver, water dripping from it. Almost cat-like the animal seemed, by watching the way it moved. No-one was usually out at this hour, and the beast knew it. It was looking for something, but did apparently not quite know what, because it was wandering around in no particular direction. It looked about the trees and turned its head up to the sky, day was coming. The night was fading quickly now. The cat sat down to lick the water from it’s paws. Suddenly, a flash, a black flash it seemed. The sound of hooves on the wet soil ground. Then it was gone. Quickly the cat got up from the ground and disappeared behind a big strong oak tree. When coming back into sight, the beholder would not have known what to do or to thing. First one bare foot stepped onto the wet grass, then another. A hand was trying to find a grip through the branches. Then a black figure climbed out of the bushes behind the oak tree. It was a woman, Rothallë was her name, Muirë she was also called. She swung her black hair behind her delicate shoulders. Drops of dew fell off it sparkling like a thousand stars on a clear night. Clad in black she was, wearing a black cloak around her shoulders pinned with a silver brooch that looked like a leaf. Her eyes shone, bright green with spots of yellow. One could say that the sparkles of the brightest sunlight were in her eyes. Then, another black flash came, but she did not appear to be afraid. She cried out in a language unknown to most of the living creatures of her age and only spoken when being with beasts. Out of the thick forest stepped a horse. It was a fierce and noble steed, it was her horse Winter’s Sorrow. Rothallë leaped upon its strong back and grabbed its long beautiful manes, for the horse had no bridle on. “Quick”, she said to the horse, and away it leaped into the breaking daylight, heading South.