sillimarilli: (Sam and Dean)

I believe in the stories we tell one another, whether it is across the flickering light of the evening's fire or by the glow upon a flat screen.  It is in this way that we name our fears, and give each other the gift of belief in something bigger than ourselves and the courage to face the darkness that crowds in behind our backs. 

As the Professor once said, "It was in fairy-stories that I first divined the potency of the words, and the wonder of things, such as stone, and wood, and iron; tree and grass; house and fire; bread and wine." It is through the mirror of the supernatural that we perceive ourselves more clearly. 


sillimarilli: (Sam and Dean)
I blame [personal profile] erinrua  *points finger*  :D

sillimarilli: (Default)
He sprang down the steps and away, leaping down the path. 'Alas! An ill fate is on me this day, and all that I do goes amiss."

TTT: The Departure of Boromir

~oOo~

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~oOo~

Headlong is our flight, though we are hindered in it. We duck beneath low-hanging eaves and charge through alleys, kicking up stones and dust, not daring more speed than safe passage will allow until at last we leave the houses of the Angle’s square behind. Only then when the fallow fields open before us, with the light from Ranger Mathil’s torch passing swiftly upon the night, do we dare set the horses to full galloping. Yet still, by the heaving of Bachor's breast beneath my grip and the sounds that whip past my ears, I know him to be cursing for the slowness of our pace.
sillimarilli: (butterfly)
Well, after several months of upheaval at work, we've finally beginning to settle in. The peds therapy gym is painted. Yay! There was much rejoicing, though my feet are tired and my legs are stiff and sore from so much squatting. Still, it was worth every groan and stiff hop down the stairs this weekend. :) But you don't have to take my word for it. )
sillimarilli: (Default)
But everywhere he looked he saw the signs of war. The Misty Mountains were crawling like anthills: orcs were issuing out of a thousand holes.

FOTR: The Breaking of the Fellowship

~oOo~

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~oOo~


I no longer smell the smoke, though I doubt not its acrid scent yet clings to my dress and hair. My very skin bears its traces and I know myself not unmarked.

Ai! Nienna of the Countless Tears, have pity on us, I pray!
Continued here )
sillimarilli: (misty forest)
I think that I shall never see
A billboard lovely as a tree.
Perhaps, unless the billboards fall,
I'll never see a tree at all.
~Ogden Nash, "Song of the Open Road," 1933


*snerk*

How'd you know I like Ogden Nash? I copied his "Tale of the Thirteenth Floor" down by hand when I was 12 in my "special notebook."

Thanks, Lady B, it made me smile.
sillimarilli: (scream)
*sporfle*

Top 200 children's erroneous beliefs


I was 4 years old during the Summer of Love, 1969, and my parents are rather of a conservative bent.   So, when my mother explained to me that Scott Joplin was a musician who had been discriminated against in his time and not allowed to play in "regular" concert halls, I naturally assumed that that was because he was a hippie. 

Your turn. :)
sillimarilli: (young heath sneek a peek)
BWAH!

Is Hell Exothermic?

I am *such* a nerd.
sillimarilli: (coffee bean)
Okay... I cheated a little and created a jpg file instead of taking the *actual* quiz. *click* and you shall see.



gakked from Lady B

Pukha

Feb. 18th, 2007 08:06 pm
sillimarilli: (frosted flower)
Well, here I am again, posting about loss and love. Some of you know secondhand about my cat, Pukha. He earned his name as a kitten - named for that Irish spirit that inhabits animals and inspires them to mischief. Today, Pukha died in a sudden and unexpected accident. Apparently, he had gotten spooked by my neighbor's dog and raced up a tree, only to lose his hold and fall.

He may be "only" an animal, but he has lived with me for the past 8 years and generously shared both his mischief and affection with me. He was big-boned and fuzzy-furred, a big old baby who put my legs to sleep whenever he laid in my lap. He loved to sit outside and roam a little, but never too far and always quickly gamboling home if he knew I called. I shall miss his picking his way over and dragging his belly fur across my head when I've laid down to sleep. I shall miss his patting at the bedcovers until I held them up and let him in so he could tunnel around. He always eventually ended up spooned up against me with his head poking outside the covers under my chin. I shall miss watching him stalk slowly through the monkey-grass outside and finding him hidden beneath its green surface when it was time to come inside. I shall miss his crying at the door to be let out and coming home to find every cabinet door pried open. I shall miss him sitting on the sink every morning I get ready for work and every night I get ready for bed. I will miss him racing me up the stairs just for the chance I might have a hand free while I brushed my teeth. I shall miss just how soft and downy he was and that last sighing purr he would give right before he relaxed into sleep.

The place seems too quiet and too still, and I am quite heartbroken.


And so, I give you Pukha, who, I think, speaks for himself. )
sillimarilli: (Default)
'Then I cannot help you much, not even with counsel,' said Elrond. 'I can foresee very little of your road; and how your task is to be achieved I do not know. The Shadow has crept now to the feet of the Mountains, and draws nigh even to the borders of Greyflood; and under the Shadow all is dark to me.'

FOTR: The Ring Goes South

~oOo~

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

~oOo~


The hall is quiet. So still are we here Elenir's gentle breathing can be heard over the snapping of the fire and the rasp of Halbarad's knife.
Continued here )
Table of Contents
sillimarilli: (Eccelston - come with me)
In the interest of debriefing after several long and *headdesk* inducing meetings today I sit before my laptop and troll the internets, only to find:

AAAAAAHHHH!!! Sauron in the 60's, with the accompanying text. Be afraid, be very afraid. (And be sure to explore the rest of LILEKS (James)'s website for more bizarre pop culture and snark.)



"He’s Sauron, baby, and he’s back in town! Yes, the all-seeing eye that embodies evil and domination is groovier than ever, thanks to today’s modern paints, modern brushes, modern designers and modern drugs! Don’t forget to paint the tub to match the pupil, because GOD KNOWS no one will ever want a plain white bathtub again. Oh, sure, some plastic people might want it white, but let those phonies ask a Rockefeller for a new one, okay? This is the Age of Aquarius. If it’s moving, offer it a bong hit. If it’s not, paint it."

Just be sure to keep the eyeball bleach and scrubber handy

ETA: Pardon me! Sauron in the 70's! not 60's. I recognize the black and white check wallpaper from that in my older brother's room in the 70's. I had the same pattern... in puce.
sillimarilli: (Default)
*squint*

*rubs eyes*

o.O -.- o.O

whoa....


ONE HUNDRED AND TWO TOTAL USERPICS!!!!

Fire up the imaging software, Robin, we're going to take this bad boy out for a spin. :P

Wow!

Well, whomsoever you are, thank ye very kindly. I was totally surprised and have been grinning about it off and on ever since it appeared in my mailbox. I shall have a ton of fun playing around with all the little options of a paid account. Thanks again!
sillimarilli: (Default)
You will meet many foes, some open, and some disguised; and you may find friends upon your way when you least look for it.

FOTR: The Ring Goes South

~oOo~

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

~oOo~


Whatever could that be?

I halt of a sudden upon the path and my son bumps into my leg.

"Ammë?" he asks, peering up at me.

But I spare him no mind, for a great shouting and an ox bawling in vexation has reached my ears. Down the line of ploughmen and cotters comes the sound of voices raised in anger. Heads turn as men scramble away from their source and a murmuring as the wind rising through the pines runs through them.
Continued here )
sillimarilli: (Default)
Hey there,

I ran into this: feedback from readers An excellent metaphor for how to understand feedback from people reading your work, even those crankily negative reviews. :)
sillimarilli: (Default)
Dust rose smothering the air, as from nearby there marched up an army of Easterlings that had waited for the signal in the shadows of Ered Lithui beyond the further Tower. Down from the hills on either side of the Morannon poured Orcs innumerable. The men of the West were trapped, and soon, all about the grey mounds where they stood, forces ten times and more than ten times their match would ring them in a sea of enemies.

ROTK: The Black Gate Opens

~oOo~

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~oOo~


"And have a care for how you close –"

The door to the buttery slams shut upon my words, shaking the very walls upon which it is hung.

"Edainion!" I cry, but the lad is long beyond hearing. No doubt his feet took him quickly through the garden and down to the old oak where he was wont to sit when his mother makes him of a mind to sulk.
Continued here )
sillimarilli: (Default)
'A time may come soon,' said he, 'when none will return. Then there will be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.'

ROTK: The Passing of the Grey Company

~oOo~

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~oOo~


"Onya."

"Ammë, it is a bird."

My son winces and holds himself very still at the crackle of winter-dry bracken beneath his feet. The path to the Angle's square is empty of folk and we have barely begun our short journey. The sun of early spring would warm my face and hands were it not for the coldness of the breeze that comes down from the mountain. Chill it is with the snows that lie upon their heads and I despair of finding a cloak that shall keep me warm, swollen belly and all. We are alone in our short journey as are not often left to ourselves, for Halbarad goes to prepare his man's grave and the youth for which we were to wait was late in the coming.
Continued here )
sillimarilli: (Default)
'Few now remember them,' Tom murmured, 'yet still some go wandering, sons of forgotten kings walking in loneliness, guarding from evil things folk that are heedless.'

FOTR: Fog on the Barrow-Downs

~oOo~

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

~oOo~


"Ara-gost, Ara-vorn, Ara-had," my son laboriously recites, checking over his work, for I have set him to putting to memory the lines of the Kings of the Northkingdom and the Chieftains of the Dúnedain.

We sit together after the evening meal, my lord's table lit by candles, he with his lessons and I with my journal. For it has rained all through the day and looks to continue through the night. My child has been restless. He played upon the floor about the hearth, lining his carved figures into battles and I was much pressed to pay no heed to his harsh yells and the clatter of his toys. When that no longer held his mind, he donned the rough quilted tunic I had made for him, its folds filled with river-sand to accustom his young limbs to the weight, and took up his wooden sword.
Continued here )
sillimarilli: (Default)
Then she fell on her knees, saying: ‘I beg thee!’

‘Nay, lady,’ he said, and taking her by the hand he raised her. Then he kissed her hand, and sprang into the saddle, and rode away, and did not look back; and only those who knew him well and were near to him saw the pain that he bore.


ROTK: The Passing of the Grey Company

~oOo~

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

~oOo~


My lord's son was indeed naked and slippery, wet from his hours spent in the garden with Elesinda. She looked the worse of the two, spattered with water and red-faced with the sun.

"Master Edainion!" she scolded when he leapt from the tub, slopping his bath upon her skirts.

"Atto!" cried he, and at the sight my lord's face was no less bright than his son's.

He ran to his father, who dropped the bundle of reeds and string of river perch he carried to greet him, the boy leaping into his embrace. Laughing, my lord kissed the nose that turned up to him and complained his son was more difficult to catch than the fish he would have for his supper.
Continued here )
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