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There and Back Again |
Third Age Correspondence
Proper dwarves offer their services before they leave.
The Grey Havens - 04/03/2004 Long Time Gone - 22/02/2004 Only for Now - 04/02/2004 The Neverland - 19/01/2004 There's no times at all, just the New York Times - 15/01/2004 Links and RingsNo Shame Pieces Untitled Story Other Writings |
13/12/2001 - 10:25 p.m. Grendel, Chapter 13 As promised, Chapter 13 of Grendel. For those of you who have read it, I hope you don't find it too out of whack (style is so difficult to copy when you want the author dead). For those of you who haven't, if you like this, I suggest you not read Grendel, read things I write instead. Pay close attention to punctuation, it's a little bit difficult with some of the ways things are on here. Trust me, it works on my Word Processing program much better. The earth trembles as a hole fills with once displaced darkness. Space closing the gap and Time forgetting it was there; forever the method. Senseless patterns that mean everything and nothing. Sudden crashing waves of terror: gone! The nothing has changed to everything in a fit of realization. Hurt? Lost? Disappeared? Farther removed. Vanquished! Terror washing around and over, drowning, floundering. Once, the lost hole was something. Important something. What? Nostrils search the remnant of a scent lingering in the air, recognizable. The loss. The answer is the scent. Love. Connection! Vanquished? Vengeance! Anger sparks, rising and licking tongues of red pain. Driving, forcing thoughts long abandoned. Death wells up, unquenchable desire. The answer is the scent. Follow. Out and away, following. Footsteps similar to former, but older, sadder, driven by... now by something. Beasts scatter, they have seen something. Or perhaps, only now they have. Yet, the anger is not at them. Certainly it is for the others. They have not the same fear as the beasts: beasts do not seek vengeance. How close the others are! How good to have something to cast fear and vengeance upon. It shall be returned upon them. Approach with caution. Darkness holds little shelter when the others control flame. Approach the dwellings, a rush of scent: nauseating. Men. Standing close about the door unaware, men do not sense. Yet, the idle words they let fall prove enlightening. Safe outside their limited range, listening to the fat one in the doorway. I am the oak tree to your splinters, And I am certain you will find This beast was not last of its kind." Spouting careless words in the name of experience, as though authority bestowed: by some false god perhaps. No words spoken against- only vacant nods and smiles. Without argument, easily taken in, knowing no better than to simply agree. Blind intuition. I hear that Beowulf's got his head Upon a door. He's a very merry Swede. What do you say we go for mead?" Grendel! Something rendered to nothing by careless meandering. Blind rage rises, forced back by desire to listen. Grendel!? Proud with the role of arrogant intellectual, words laced with poison truth still flow. Big as a lake, a league or more long. More horrible creature we'll never see Than old Grendel's mum may prove to be." For once, he speaks real truth. And daybreak will find the Mother limed, For it is his plan to find the lair, And slaughter all discovered there." Fear is forgotten, replaced by sorrow. Almost a pity to kill poor dumb creatures. But, battle requested is battle received, and Grendel's death must be avenged. He continues- it is wind creating such great girth. (And may her darling give a shit), There'll be much rejoicing in this land. Now let's depart, come, take my hand." A moment later would have found them victims of wrath. He closes the door behind them, and a familiar odor, mixed with death, is revealed under the stench of man. Follow to a deep pit, the one he spoke of. Dismembered, mangled body. Grendel! Jump to the bottom. Screams echo. Love. Vengeance! Infinite sadness. Grendel returns to earth, becomes trees, watered by rains, destroyed by fires. It is better. Better than life in shadow of crimes of creatures: created only from and for them. Sun rises, climb from the pit. Still vengeance. Return to dwellings. Gathered around footprints from night before. He stands with others, one huge man- mysterious. Humorous proceedings? I stood here unaware all yestereve Of such a creature close at hand. I am intelligent, you understand." Portentous evil in Grendel's image stood here." Is this like the other beast you slew? Are we poor people safe in our beds, Or does this monster want our heads?" I will have to kill this... thing." Oh dear. Take from me this advice you should. This monster is evil, this monster is mad, Don't let her kill you, that would be bad." I will follow your advice, intelligent one." There is much to consider, the current state of affairs must not continue. (How their influence is detestable!) Fear is unnecessary. They are afraid of me. Action is the answer. How different the answer was yesterday. I wish I could escape to yesterday. Confront! No need, he is coming. Beowulf wants to make a killin'." He gets worse and worse, doesn't he? (Though, so do I.) Step from the trees, and make no effect. Empty, stupid, staring eyes. You skulking creatures must be undone." "Why?" An encapsulating question, though hardly the one I had intended to ask. I send your soul back to the devil." "I see. And what makes you so certain of your skills?" Insulting him can hardly be cruel, at least he has a chance to go. I have a sharp blade to use on thee." "You're rather short on rhymes, aren't you?" The old ways have come back, I am practically human. Like my son, I see the stupidities of these men, and have become a part of it. In an instant, I realize by ancient intuition that I will die- but die for Grendel, for which there is some sort of justification fighting in my brain. Love. Vengeance. He has moved closer, eyes still empty. Sword drawn, he knows I am not as strong as my son. Fear. Firm on the ground, I watch him come, primal screams the origin of which he does not understand. Terror. Flee. Fight! Vengeance! Ashamed, turn and return to home, death is certain, why fight so soon? It was a most noble thing to do. Wonderful man in word and deed. I know, so question more you have no need." �From the Shire, down the Anduin, to Mordor
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