that's all, folks.
Jun. 7th, 2005 12:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaydeefalls
22 pages later, the fic is finished. Damn. I think I'll rather miss it. I've really grown fond of my hobbit OCs, and their little adventure. And while I remain a complete feedback whore ;) -- I've enjoyed writing this story, a lot, and while I don't think much of my own writing, this is one of very few fics I'm actually proud to have written. Not that it's anywhere near perfect, or that I couldn't spend ages rewriting bits of it. But I like it. And I'll shut up now, because I have to write a 5-7 page paper on it in the next four hours...
The Jewels of the Sea, part 6/6
a Fourth Age hobbit fic
by kaydee falls
part 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5
When they finally made it back to the Towers, they learned that only three weeks had passed since their departure – not long enough for anyone to have worried about them, although the Warden was somewhat displeased with his son's disregard for his duties. "I hope you have something to show for yourself," he harrumphed.
"I found Valinor," Ayer told him.
Tom turned and left the room.
But rumors of Ayer's discovery spread, and many of the most impressionable tweens and young adults came to Ayer and Tom, demanding explanations. Ayer spoke to them of the elves, of their beauty and culture; he told them of the lost realm of Beleriand, and the havens at Valinor; he taught them of the history of the Silmarils, and the jewels of the Sea. And then one day he left the Towers and went back to Baggins Crossing, to build another ship.
"Oh, no, you don't," Tom said severely, the day he was to set off. "You cannot possibly leave me to fend for myself among your mad students. I know little of the elves; your hobbits will come to me for your stories and I will have nothing to give them."
"You're the one who loves adventure tales," Ayer said, smiling. "I've given them history; now you tell them about our adventure."
But it hadn't been a proper adventure, really; nothing really bad had happened, except for the storm, and the only evil was in Ayer's obsession-bordering-on-madness. And Tom couldn't tell the other hobbits about the long days of nothing but Sea and sky, of dull dreams, of losing track of time because he was so worried about Ayer's strange behavior that he couldn't think of anything else.
So Tom told them an adventure tale. He told them of sea monsters and their treasure hoards, of the vast ruins and wailing ghosts of Nargothrond, of the Silmaril and Emerald of the Sea. And they kept coming back for more details, and further adventures, until it seemed that Tom and Ayer must have spent years sailing across the Sea.
And when at last Ayer's ship was completed, he did not set off alone. A long-dormant lust for adventure and knowledge emerged among their generation of hobbits. Many discovered within themselves a previously unrecognized longing for the elves, and twenty or so decided to forsake responsibilities and the pastoral life for the promise of the Sea.
On the day before they were to leave, Ayer came to see Tom one last time.
"You're finally prepared to set off, then," Tom said, straightening and dusting off his trousers. He was in one of the Warden's private libraries, and had been searching for a scroll of harvest records, which he was sure was in one of two musty old trunks.
Ayer leaned against the doorway. "Yes. That trunk only contains genealogical records, by the way."
"Ah," Tom said. "It's in the other one, then."
"I don't know how you can stand it," Ayer remarked. "All the technicalities of management. Not a good story in a single one of those dry records."
"Nonsense," Tom said. "You just have to read between the lines."
Ayer laughed. "You'll make a far better Warden than I would have."
"Well, I'm not really going to be the Warden, you know," Tom said cautiously. "I'm just substituting for you while you're away; and you'll return long before Uncle dies."
"Of course," Ayer said, but the expression on his face was saying something quite different.
"And anyway," Tom continued, "I've no particular aptitude for a government sort of position. My only talent is as a storyteller."
Ayer's eyes sparkled with mirth. "And what, dear cousin, do you think a government sort of position is all about?"
Tom laughed.
They looked at each other for a long moment, then reached out to clasp hands. "Farewell, Tolman son of Samwise," Ayer said. "I am sorry you are not coming with me again."
"Safe journey," Tom replied, and let him go.
*
Ayer and his friends sailed away, and never returned.
After years had gone by without a word from or about the ship and its crew, hobbits began making up their own explanations. Some believed that Ayer really had found Valinor, and that the elves had welcomed him and his party in as the beloved descendants of Samwise the Brave. Others thought that the ship had simply been lost at Sea, and its passengers all drowned.
But the most common tale was that Ayer's "Emerald of the Sea" was not Valinor, but another land entirely – an island, in all probability, much like the one with the elven burial mound, but far larger. The legend – for so it became – claimed that Ayer and his shipmates had landed there and gone no further, but built a new settlement of Little People, and thrived. The island itself became known in the stories as Ayer's Land; or, as Tom called it, the Emerald Isle.
On an emerald on the Sea there lived a hobbit...
The Jewels of the Sea, part 6/6
a Fourth Age hobbit fic
by kaydee falls
part 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5
When they finally made it back to the Towers, they learned that only three weeks had passed since their departure – not long enough for anyone to have worried about them, although the Warden was somewhat displeased with his son's disregard for his duties. "I hope you have something to show for yourself," he harrumphed.
"I found Valinor," Ayer told him.
Tom turned and left the room.
But rumors of Ayer's discovery spread, and many of the most impressionable tweens and young adults came to Ayer and Tom, demanding explanations. Ayer spoke to them of the elves, of their beauty and culture; he told them of the lost realm of Beleriand, and the havens at Valinor; he taught them of the history of the Silmarils, and the jewels of the Sea. And then one day he left the Towers and went back to Baggins Crossing, to build another ship.
"Oh, no, you don't," Tom said severely, the day he was to set off. "You cannot possibly leave me to fend for myself among your mad students. I know little of the elves; your hobbits will come to me for your stories and I will have nothing to give them."
"You're the one who loves adventure tales," Ayer said, smiling. "I've given them history; now you tell them about our adventure."
But it hadn't been a proper adventure, really; nothing really bad had happened, except for the storm, and the only evil was in Ayer's obsession-bordering-on-madness. And Tom couldn't tell the other hobbits about the long days of nothing but Sea and sky, of dull dreams, of losing track of time because he was so worried about Ayer's strange behavior that he couldn't think of anything else.
So Tom told them an adventure tale. He told them of sea monsters and their treasure hoards, of the vast ruins and wailing ghosts of Nargothrond, of the Silmaril and Emerald of the Sea. And they kept coming back for more details, and further adventures, until it seemed that Tom and Ayer must have spent years sailing across the Sea.
And when at last Ayer's ship was completed, he did not set off alone. A long-dormant lust for adventure and knowledge emerged among their generation of hobbits. Many discovered within themselves a previously unrecognized longing for the elves, and twenty or so decided to forsake responsibilities and the pastoral life for the promise of the Sea.
On the day before they were to leave, Ayer came to see Tom one last time.
"You're finally prepared to set off, then," Tom said, straightening and dusting off his trousers. He was in one of the Warden's private libraries, and had been searching for a scroll of harvest records, which he was sure was in one of two musty old trunks.
Ayer leaned against the doorway. "Yes. That trunk only contains genealogical records, by the way."
"Ah," Tom said. "It's in the other one, then."
"I don't know how you can stand it," Ayer remarked. "All the technicalities of management. Not a good story in a single one of those dry records."
"Nonsense," Tom said. "You just have to read between the lines."
Ayer laughed. "You'll make a far better Warden than I would have."
"Well, I'm not really going to be the Warden, you know," Tom said cautiously. "I'm just substituting for you while you're away; and you'll return long before Uncle dies."
"Of course," Ayer said, but the expression on his face was saying something quite different.
"And anyway," Tom continued, "I've no particular aptitude for a government sort of position. My only talent is as a storyteller."
Ayer's eyes sparkled with mirth. "And what, dear cousin, do you think a government sort of position is all about?"
Tom laughed.
They looked at each other for a long moment, then reached out to clasp hands. "Farewell, Tolman son of Samwise," Ayer said. "I am sorry you are not coming with me again."
"Safe journey," Tom replied, and let him go.
Ayer and his friends sailed away, and never returned.
After years had gone by without a word from or about the ship and its crew, hobbits began making up their own explanations. Some believed that Ayer really had found Valinor, and that the elves had welcomed him and his party in as the beloved descendants of Samwise the Brave. Others thought that the ship had simply been lost at Sea, and its passengers all drowned.
But the most common tale was that Ayer's "Emerald of the Sea" was not Valinor, but another land entirely – an island, in all probability, much like the one with the elven burial mound, but far larger. The legend – for so it became – claimed that Ayer and his shipmates had landed there and gone no further, but built a new settlement of Little People, and thrived. The island itself became known in the stories as Ayer's Land; or, as Tom called it, the Emerald Isle.
On an emerald on the Sea there lived a hobbit...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-06-07 11:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-07 04:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-07 02:05 pm (UTC)So, are we going to get to see the paper you write on it? *cough*
no subject
Date: 2005-06-07 04:09 pm (UTC)And the paper is much with the crap -- the assignment was to explain what "gives your artistic response to Tolkien's sub-creation 'depth'" and "its relationship to Tolkien's 'majestic whole'". So, basically, a load of pretentious bollocks. >_<
no subject
Date: 2005-06-07 05:50 pm (UTC)ah hah I still want to see it.
And now I go to sleep. Really. reallyyy.
no subject
Date: 2005-06-07 08:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-07 08:26 pm (UTC)Thank ye kindly! ;)
no subject
Date: 2005-06-08 05:10 pm (UTC)And you did such a nice job with it -- very much in keeping with the feel and language of Tolkien (if more than a bit less verbose). And I found it very moving, including experiencing a little pang at the end when I found myself hoping that the legend of the Emerald Isle was true. :)
no subject
Date: 2005-06-08 07:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 09:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-09 06:32 am (UTC)Thanks! I'm glad you made it back here. ;)