B9| The Sport of Your Own Crows
Mar. 20th, 2012 06:09 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
huinare.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
b2memB2MeM Challenge: “The Voice of Saruman” (Alternate Viewpoints)
Format: Double drabble
Genre: General
Rating: G
Warnings: *shrug*
Characters: Gandalf, Saruman, OC
Summary: One of the folk of Isengard observes the confrontation between Gandalf and Saruman.
Author's Note: Um yeah it's still wizards (who are eating my brain all month, hopefully with curry), but it's NOT my big WIP for once. For the first time to date during B2MeM, I have produced drabbles!
____
There are two, white against the dark stone of the tower. Moril knows the difference. The one on the stairs is an interloper.
Moril sits on a barrel to look closer; yes, this one was grey, before, atop the tower in the waning summer, and walking with eight in the winter lands far northeast. This grey one always escapes, and now he returns to the ruined circle and brings brazen others with him. Moril does not know many of their words, but she knows enough for contempt.
“Come back, Saruman!”
Moril gapes indignantly, still unheeded, baffled.
“Your staff is broken.”
____
Moril follows the grey intruder and those flocking round him to the tumbled gate, berating. Satisfied that they’ve left, she returns and finds a tower window open and looks in. The wizard, like a pale cornered cat, curls in an armchair.
Moril enters the room, concerned, confused. “Curunír.”
He turns his eyes slowly toward her. “Get out.”
Moril tilts her head, uncomprehending. Usually the instructions are follow somebody or seek something. “Grey one leaves. Gone,” she announces, helpfully.
“Grey,” Curunír mumbles, contemptuous.
“Curunír.”
“Leave me alone.”
Moril reckons she has done something wrong. Crestfallen, she flies away from the tower.
Format: Double drabble
Genre: General
Rating: G
Warnings: *shrug*
Characters: Gandalf, Saruman, OC
Summary: One of the folk of Isengard observes the confrontation between Gandalf and Saruman.
Author's Note: Um yeah it's still wizards (who are eating my brain all month, hopefully with curry), but it's NOT my big WIP for once. For the first time to date during B2MeM, I have produced drabbles!
____
There are two, white against the dark stone of the tower. Moril knows the difference. The one on the stairs is an interloper.
Moril sits on a barrel to look closer; yes, this one was grey, before, atop the tower in the waning summer, and walking with eight in the winter lands far northeast. This grey one always escapes, and now he returns to the ruined circle and brings brazen others with him. Moril does not know many of their words, but she knows enough for contempt.
“Come back, Saruman!”
Moril gapes indignantly, still unheeded, baffled.
“Your staff is broken.”
____
Moril follows the grey intruder and those flocking round him to the tumbled gate, berating. Satisfied that they’ve left, she returns and finds a tower window open and looks in. The wizard, like a pale cornered cat, curls in an armchair.
Moril enters the room, concerned, confused. “Curunír.”
He turns his eyes slowly toward her. “Get out.”
Moril tilts her head, uncomprehending. Usually the instructions are follow somebody or seek something. “Grey one leaves. Gone,” she announces, helpfully.
“Grey,” Curunír mumbles, contemptuous.
“Curunír.”
“Leave me alone.”
Moril reckons she has done something wrong. Crestfallen, she flies away from the tower.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-03-21 01:35 am (UTC)- Erulisse (one L)
no subject
Date: 2012-03-21 01:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-21 02:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-21 02:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-21 04:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-21 05:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-21 09:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-21 05:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-21 12:24 pm (UTC)Moril tilts her head, uncomprehending. Usually the instructions are follow somebody or seek something.
I like the language barrier here - that it is not only a matter of words, but of their purpose, and the relationships that she maintains with Saruman. Having that barrier preserves the distance between Moril and Saruman, keeps Moril feeling crow-like, and Saruman wizardly. Great idea!
no subject
Date: 2012-03-21 05:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-21 11:22 pm (UTC)Being a sucker for linguistic fic, I would love to see more on interspecies language barriers! One of my roommates had a pet cockateel, which gave me an appreciation for the way birds communicate, though to date, ironically, I've only used it to help me write Cybertronian body language, of all things. But your Moril had that sort of headstrong five year-old feel to her - she has a place, she feels she knows what it is, but she hasn't really learned to read Saruman well beyond the confines of their flock-leader/flock-member command/obey relationship. That strikes me as bird-like, even if Moril doesn't seem half as imperious as the cockateel.
I envision this exchange as being rather frustrating for the craban, in addition to depressing.
That certainly came through strongly. Moril's like a kicked dog: "What did I do?!"
no subject
Date: 2012-03-22 12:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-21 07:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-21 07:53 pm (UTC)(The damn crebain are starting to tell me they want their own story now...$%@&%^ how do I get myself into these things?)
no subject
Date: 2012-03-22 07:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-22 07:52 pm (UTC)