Thursday March 18th, 2021

The exercise:

Write about something which is: disconcerting.

2 comments:

Greg said...

Hmm, I think I have the perfect character for disconcerting... and I don't think you'll guess who either :)

Disconcerting
Grey stormclouds filled the sky to the East and Frodo shivered a little as he walked along the road that lead to Rivendell. Ahead of him he could already hear the waters of the Brandywine and he knew from reports in the village that the rains that had come so often and so heavily after the defeat of the Dark Lord had increased the flow and the width of the river. Soft words were spoken in quiet corners about the houses that had been washed away when the river rose and the lives that had been lost, but Frodo considered them to be of little concern. Building without due care and consideration was why he'd had to labour across half the world -- on foot! -- with his gardener and a bunch of mismatched, rage-filled dysfunctional companions just to destroy a piece of jewellery.
The sounds of hooves behind him made him flinch, then dive off the side of the path and into the tree-straggled underbrush. Being short had its advantages and he was hidden behind a tussock of wiry green hill-grass by the time the horse appeared. The rider wore a black cloak that swirled around him, and his head appeared to be bone white. The horse had spittle flecking its mouth and was running hard, right up until the moment that a crossbow bolt slammed into the side of its rider and they fell off. The horse stopped, pranced for a moment as the weight and the driving force were gone, and then carried on down the road; still fast but slower now and less panicked.
"Well, that was disconcerting," muttered Frodo putting the crossbow away. He waited a full five minutes just in case this was a real Nazgul and it was playing dead to get him to come closer, but finally he tiptoed out and skirted around the monster. When he reached the head he sighed with relief: the whiteness was a helmet -- it looked like one of the ceramic ones that the orcs were now churning out and selling on the mass market. War was turning into a highly profitable business across Middle Earth. He pulled it free, noticing that it was a very tight fit -- probably not intended for its wearer, and it eventually came off with an ear torn off with it. Blood pooled blackly on the ground as Frodo studied the face: it was an elf by the ageless beauty, the huge blue, now staring, eyes, and the pale skin and long fine hair. He kicked the cloak away from the body and confirmed that it was a male elf, and then checked for pockets. Sure enough there were no pockets but there was a small satchel containing lembas, the Elven travel-bread, some money which Frodo immediately pocketed, and a message tube.
Frodo weighed the tube for a moment, considering if to carry it or throw it in the river, and decided to read the contents first. After a half-hour of struggling through elvish runes and puzzling out strange words he decided that there might just be a reward for someone delivering this to the Elves of Lothlorien and telling them that there were messenger-murderers abroad.

Marc said...

Greg - hrmm. We'll see about that.

Yup, did not see any of that coming. Well done? Sure. Well done!