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Let's get this party started!!!! We have a few people here! YAY! Go us! Please take a moment and introduce yourself, who is your entry Tolkien character, your favorite Tolkien character and anything you want to say about yourself! Hi! I'm Zee. I'm a teacher down in the South and I write fanfiction. Not as prolific as I used to be but I still write. My gateway Elf was Haldir and my favorites are Haldir, Gamling, Eomer and Thorin. I have 5 pushy muses that'll I'm sure will come out when they wish. As I said, I write in the LOTR fandom, as well as The Hobbit, Doom (movie) Harry Potter, Into the Storm and Robin Hood. I have a cross over - LOTR/HP called Tel' Lindar that many think I abandoned years ago, but I've dusted it off and am working on it again! I'm going to go int the files, the subgroups, I guess and set up folders. Also need to figure out where we can put graphics and art! I have plenty of that. IN current and past times, I saved quite a bit of fanfic and art so I could read off line and I"ll probably put it up here or at the Proboard group. If I've put up yours and you'd rather I hadn't, let me know privately and we'll fix it. I'm looking forward to getting both boards set up and seeing what others have to offer! I miss the hey day and I know we won't return to that, but I've made a lot of friends over the years and hope we can still get together and enjoy!

i just love these... 1. who is the hardest character for you to write? balrogs 2. who is the easiest character for you to write? eomer 3. How do you know if you're writing is “in character”? no one fussing bout them 4. Where do your story ideas come from? conversations 5. Do you tell the people in your life that you write fics? no 6. What has been the hardest fic for you to write? tel lindar 7. What fic of yours makes you the most emotional? manna from heaven 8. What is a scene you wrote that you are most proud of? a scene from tel lindar. bronwyn asks snape to use dark magic to find her bow and severus tells her why he won't 9. Is there one character that you refuse to write? no.why? if the muse says write it,,, 10. When you write fics, how much of canon are you willing to ignore/skip over? not much 11. Do you prefer to be cold or hot when you write? im goldilocks,,, 12. What is your ideal writing area? at my desk 13. How do you come up with your titles? depends 14. How do you come up with chapter titles? depends 15. At what point in writing a fic, do you decide to quit? i finish them 16. How much of your personal life do you put into fics? not much 17. What is the most supportive comment you have gotten? someone loved manna from heaven... 18. What is the most negative comment you have gotten? oh some dude at ffnet was mad because i posted 2 days in a row...and then there was annie... 19. How do you handle negative comments? i ignore them 20. What story that you have written makes you the happiest to re-read? manna from heaven and rider of the mark -- zee I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes. I am out of control and at times, hard to handle.But if you can't handle me at my worst, you absolutely don't deserve me at my best!

So, I stopped in to approve a new member request and noticed this place is a ghost town. Let's catch up!! I'm still working every day... and not writing as I would like to do. Back last summer, I even bought a nice laptop with the intentions of finally penning Nienna, but I started working on it, smoothing this and that. I really need a beta in the worst way. One that will send my stuff back in a soaked bloodbath, lol. What's up with you? And welcome to one and all!!

Hi Guys Here are some fan-made Tolkien films and behind the scenes. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wVFtSUQm-jQ - Horn of Gondor https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ljrq687h2tg - One of the Seven https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHqw900CuTY - Relaxing music from LotR - Studying with Gandalf https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsVxjMGQEvc - Tolkien ~ Father of Fantasy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zfX1PYv1FEY&t=47s - The Hobbit Behind the scenes Enjoy Lol Seawave

I want to thank my betas - Alexcat. Gotsnape. and Dame Niahm for keeping up with my crazy excessive commas and in dame's case, staying up very late. bouncing bunnies. most of them rabid. I couldn't have done it without any you. Chapter Text Epilogue 1700 years later The boat cut through the water, like a finely hewn and sharpened knife. The woman leaned over the bow, her eyes on the landscape miles away. Beside her, a muscular elf, kept a close watch over her. “Bronwyn.” There was a hand pulling her back, long elven fingers, tangled in her tunic. “You will fall over and the boat will sail over you.” “No, I won’t!” The red - head retorted. “And no, it won’t! I just want to see the dolphins." She gestured downward towards the water. "Saes?” Haldir pulled her away from the railing. “Yes, you will.” He turned her loose and crossed his arms. “The wizard will be most unhappy if you do not arrive with me.” “Are you happy?” Haldir looked at her. “He took good care of you; was an exceptional guardian to you. I have no qualms-“ “You aren’t answering the question. Are you happy?” She took the elf’s silence as the answer. “No, you aren’t happy.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “I am so sorry.” Haldir shrugged his shoulders and tucked her hair behind a delicately rounded ear. “Such is the way of humans; such a great capacity to love.” He pointed over her shoulder. “We approach Wales.” His smile was bitter-sweet. “Be prepared.” …~~~… I thought of you the other day How worlds of change led us astray Colors seem to fade to gray In the wake of yesterday... …~~~… She is almost here! Severus was down in the basement. His head jerked up, shock written on his features, He stormed up the stairs, realizing he had the ladle in his hand about the third step. Quickly, he ran back down the steps, set the utensil in the spoon rest next to the slowly boiling cauldron before heading back up the stairs. He stopped by the mirror and ran his fingers through oily locks. He threw the curtains back and saw the schooner in the bay, knowing She was on it. For not the first time, he questioned his decision to not be reborn in Valinor with her, instead to wait until her return, the big elf’s return. He squelched the thought. Again, the world was teetering on the edge of war. Had the elves... she made it in time? His heart was in his throat. He saw a rowboat making its way to the shore. He watched until it was very close before grabbing a threadbare cloak and running out the door, making his way to the desolate shoreline. To wait. It seemed forever, but finally the boat made its way to the beach and she and several elves disembarked. She came straight to him. “Severus?” “Aye.” “Do you know who I am?” Black eyes stared at her and then looked over the dreary beach, where his neighbors were beginning to congregate and watched the threesome. “You are Bronwyn Morgan ap Powell-Snape, the Historian and Storyteller of the Ages. You are the Protector of the Future and Keeper of the Truth, appointed and empowered by the Valar and ?luvatar.” He looked at the Big elf.”You are Haldir, her husband.” She took in his obvious youth. “How old are you?” “19.” “Ah.” She intertwined her arm with his. “Do you have anything prepared for dinner?” “I have a chicken roasting and carrots and potatoes boiling.” The smile she granted him was beautiful. “Shall we go inside and talk?” And she led him in towards the home, hand in hand with her husband. fini begin 09/28/2003 fini 07/15/2023 -- zee I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes. I am out of control and at times, hard to handle.But if you can't handle me at my worst, you absolutely don't deserve me at my best!

Tel Lindar 44 - CONSTANCE,,, WE’RE HOOOOME or the aftermath. The place was... a relic. It stank of orc. Bronwyn was immediately reminded of Moria, the stench of it. 'Constance, your home stinks!' There was scratching. Spiders were hanging from the castle walls. Bronwyn began to throw her knives, eviscerating the giant insects. The dwarves were spinning, shooting, throwing weapons at the eight-legged arachnids. Thorin was poetry in motion. As was Thrandrul. Bronwyn left the entryway and into a keeping room. She gasped. There were elves chained to the walls, each tortured. Bodies were bent, malnourished, the blood... blood everywhere. “GANDALF! ELROND! CELEBORN!” She inhaled deeper. “GALADRIEL!” She was joined by Severus and Lucius. “Merlin's beard! What on earth?” The sound whooshed from Severus's mouth. Lucius repeated Snape's epitaph. “That's where they came from,” Bronwyn whispered. “She's making orcs.” The three Elves, and the Istari came into the room. All four gasped in horror. Galadriel recovered first. “Now we know where our people have been disappearing to.” She stepped up to the nearest one. “What is your name?” A vomit encrusted face looked up, pain so evident on his features. “Roraphil. My name is Roraphil, my lady.” The elf began to weep. “Thank Iluvatar you've come. I thought... I thought...” The elf broke down completely, his body shaking from weariness. . “We need to get them out of here. One by one, the warriors who came with Lialidrul, took down and removed the elves from the wall, taking them outside to be tended to. There was a tugging at Bronwyn's trousers. Amadeus stood there, whining and nosing at the stairs. Bronwyn's numbers were dwindling. “Shall we go get her?” Making sure her blades were cleared of gore, she turned and headed towards the stairs, followed by Amadeus and Severus. “Oh, Constance...” “Yes, mother?” Her voice echoed back. “I'm coming to get my bow and kill you.” She mounted the stairs. “You're welcome to try.” “I'm bringing... friends.” “Again, you're welcome to try.” There was a breeze in the corridor. “It does not matter who you bring, mother. I will win.” The voice tickled her ear. Bronwyn, Amadeus, and Snape reached the top of the staircase. Constance was nowhere in sight. For ages, they went from room to room, Constance calling, cajoling, ridiculing the threesome. They finished the top floor. No Constance. “Really, mother. Do you have any idea how many times you've passed me by?” The voice echoed from the main floor. The trio looked over the railing to see the witch standing against a wall. Bronwyn took off and hurtled down the stairs, Amadeus on her heels. Lucius grabbed Severus by the sleeve as the Wizard passed him to follow her. “Severus... I... I... don't know what to say. This is her... life?” “Aye and I am bound to her.” He jerked his arm from the blonde wizard and followed the storyteller down the stairs. Bronwyn reached the main floor. Her knives were out and spinning. “Constance. Why?” The witch shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not?” She sighed dramatically. “I want your power! That's why!” She was watching Severus come down the stairs. She slung her wand arm back. “Avada Kedavra!” Amadeus jumped between the thrown spell and Severus. The power of it slung the wolf across the hall and he landed motionless into the wall. He didn't get up. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Even Severus was stunned. That the wolf would sacrifice himself... Constance was chuckling. “Now what, mother? NOW WHAT?” Bronwyn moved so quickly, the witch didn't see. Her knives flew, pinning the witch's hands spread eagle into the stone wall, her wand flying from her hand and landing at Lucius's feet. He did the exact thing Bronwyn would have done in his place. He stepped on it, breaking it into splinters. The sound of the disintegrating wood was resolute and it sounded so good to Lucius's ears as he ground his heel into the wood stem. Constance was laughing uncontrollably. “Now what. Mother? Now what?” Bronwyn slid her sword from it's casing on her back. Wielding it like an American baseball bat, she strode fo

Tel' Lindar Chapter 43 - Somethin’ bad about to happen or The snowball fight, take 2. Bronwyn ignored Thranduil for the entire week. It was the Mistress of all Cuts, nose upturned, going in a different direction when he came close. Much sniffing disdainfully Severus was impressed. Twice, the Elven King came to her classroom, Seventh years. She would set waves spinning so high, caught only by his Elven ears and he would leave, brushing at them. Her students looked at each other, shrugging in curiosity, while Bronwyn smiled snarkily to herself. Heh! Tell me again I'm out of shape! That Saturday, Dumbledore, accompanied by the Heads of Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor, tapped lightly on Bronwyn's door. After inviting them in and sitting down with tea, Bronwyn smiled. “So, what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” The three heads coughed and harrumphed between themselves, before Minerva McGonnagal blurted, “Professor Powell-” Oh not boding well... “-did you by chance, assign another snowball fight for a project?” Suddenly, the other two began to cut in over each other. “Yes, did you because if so-” “Harry has just gotten over the last one and-” “I realize that it was a popular assignment and most of the children-” “Perhaps this is simply exuberance on your part, you not being a wizard-” Bronwyn was blinking, looking back and forth, jaw completely unhinged. Dumbledore put up his hand, signaling for silence among his three Heads of House. “Ladies and gentlewizard, perhaps if you would take a breath and not speak at the same time, Professor Powell can answer you.” Four pairs of wizard eyes gazed at the diminutive professor expectantly. Bronwyn's mouth moved involuntarily. “Are they having a snowball fight?” She put her hands up in supplication. “And this is concerning how?” She looked at Dumbledore and motioned more with her hands. “They're children! Didn't you have snowba-” “With colors.” “House colors.” “They are keeping score.” “House Ravenclaw has a most impressive fort.” Professor Flitwick's pride was obvious. “I take it Ravenclaw is winning?” Bronwyn blurted. Flitwick beamed. “They shouldn't be having it at all!” Minerva gritted. The threesome began to argue amongst themselves, the noise level in Bronwyn's living area rising. Bronwyn leaned over to the Headmaster. “How bad is it?” she whispered. Albus took her by the hand and led her to the sunroom. He pointed upwards. One couldn't see out. The glass ceiling was covered with neon colored snowballs. There was no true definition of house colors; well there were, except they were exceptionally bright. Bronwyn squinted. There were red ones. “Ooooh.” Amadeus joined them. He too, looked toward the roof and Bronwyn swore it looked as if he wished to join them. So did she. “Where is Professor Snape?” Albus leaned towards her. “Hiding, I assume.” “Are you sure?” The elderly wizard side-eyed her. “He is not answering his door. I recognize the silence spell on the entrance.” “So, he couldn't hear if you went after it with a battering ram.” “Precisely.” Bronwyn began to chuckle. “Smart man.” She took a breath. “Where is Harry?” With this, Albus's smile faded. “He is down on the Quiddich field, racing with Remus.” “Ah.” Bronwyn nodded and made her way back into her apartment. “I think I'll join him.” She strode past the arguing professors and headed to the stairs. “I'll need a target set up, please. Amadeus, are you coming?” “Professor Powell? Bronwyn!” Minerva was irked. “Where are you going?” This conversation was not going where the Head of Gryffindor wanted it to go. “What about the children?” Bronwyn stopped at the foot of the staircase. “The children are being children and having a snowball fight. They sound like they are having a wonderful time. Maybe you should join them?” She wagged a finger at the threesome “I am going to the Quidditch field to shoot some arrows and spend time with Harry, as he is there and not throwing bloody-colored snowballs. Amadeus is joining me and if I were a betting person, I'd bet Severus will join me there within ten minutes.” Her left foot

Tel’ Lindar 42 Tracing the trails through the mirrors of time or Spinning in circles with riddles in rhyme Her classes were awful. All of them. It was if an evil fairy, with nothing but wickedness ingrained in its wings had invaded her classroom. The Slytherin 5th years declared war on the Gryffindor 5th years; Ravenclaw 3rd years decided they knew everything and everyone else knew nothing, including Professor Powell. The 6th year boys were busy slobbering all over the 6th year girls, houses be damned and as for the 7th years… Bronwyn wished she had a television so she could let them watch war and horror movies. Blood and guts and endless Stephen King. She spent most evenings in the tub with bubbles and a glass of wine. Thranduil skulked about. That Elf could teach a person a thing or two about skulking. Even Severus was impressed with the Elf Lord’s ability to just pop out of nowhere and scare the absolute hell out of a person. Bronwyn thought he took pleasure in it. Amadeus followed her everywhere. Classes, meals, it didn’t matter. Normally friendly and gregarious with the students, he too slunk about, ears and tail down. “STOP THAT!” She stalked between two 6th year students passing a note and snatched at the paper. “You!” She pointed at the female Ravenclaw, “move to that corner to that chair. You!” She pointed to her counterpart – a Hufflepuff – “over there.” She opened the note and began to read aloud. “What the fu---“ ck is up with Prof P? It’s like she hasn’t been laid in weeks. Maybe someone should drop a hint to Snape? Or Lupin? All of the Elves? The entire class was looking at her expectantly; She folded it up and put it in her pocket. “Well! I appreciate that you are so concerned about my private, social life and feel the need to fix things that are not your business. Ten points each from both of you.” And then in a fit of uncharacteristic anger, she assigned the entire class a seven-foot report on the effects of the Great Depression in the United States during the 1930’s. As the class came to an end and they filed out, Bronwyn sank behind her desk, her head between her hands. “Two fingers of whiskey for your thoughts?” Severus stood over her, a ghost of concern written on austere, serious features. Bronwyn leaned as far back as she could in her chair, staring at the ceiling. “Dear God in Heaven, please tell me I have a long lunch and planning right now, this very minute, on my schedule.” The Wizard turned her planning book around and perused the contents. “You have lunch and then a planning period. It looks as if you have almost two hours free.” “You’re joking.” Without moving, she peered at the Wizard, catching his glare. “My apologies. I forgot you don’t know how to joke.” “Nor am I God.” It was quiet for a moment and eventually, Severus sat on the edge of her desk. “Any word from that Elf at the museum?” Bronwyn shook her head. “Not a peep. Has anyone seen Thranduil? Perhaps he knows.” Severus rolled his eyes. “I have been talking to my senschal.” At the mention of his name, the King of the Greenwood strolled into Bronwyn's classroom. He quietly shut the door behind him and approached Bronywn's desk. “I fear I bring sad tidings.” “The Elf is dead.” Severus droned. Bronwyn shook her head at the wizard and looked back at Thranduil. “Dead end?” “So far, the emails came from a bogus account,” Thranduil whispered. “Most of the emails were sent from various coffee shops in the United States.” “That is why we found nothing here,” Severus hissed. “Our wizard is American.” He snarled. “What is it about Ame-” “Do not say a word!” Bronwyn picked up a pencil from her desk and began to tap it. “Now what? Any way to get into the records in the States?” “I know nothing about the wizard population in The United States,” Thranduil offered. “He's not done,” he added. “There are still a few more that are giving him grief. Apparently, they rerouted several times, making them difficult to trace.” He shrugged elegantly. “They would be the more recent ones.” “The ones that would be most important.” “Gentlemen?” Both men looked

Chapter 41 - Love letters from Hell or The Man-Whore of Rohan Tel Lindar Chapter 41 Love letters from Hell or the Man-Whore of Rohan Holy Moses I have been deceived Now the wind has changed direction and I'll have to leave Won't you please excuse my frankness but it's not my cup of tea Holy Moses I have been deceived Elton John/Bernie Taupin Border Song It was if all the air was sucked out of the room. Why do you think I am here? Your bow resides in this castle… The dark Wizard was on his knees on the other side of her in an instant. “Who? Where?” “I do not know.” “What do you mean you do not know?” Severus hissed. “It is here, you,” he used his hands to circle around his head blindly, “sense it. Do we need to walk up and down the halls until you find it?” Thranduil smiled lamely before standing up. He touched Bronwyn on the shoulder. “It does not work that way. It is here; I feel its presence strongly, but it is not like the child’s game… Hot and cold?” Severus raised an eyebrow. “Were you never a child? ‘You are getting warmer, warmer, you are hot, oh now you are getting cold.’“ The Elf went to the bar and poured whatever was available in a high ball and handed it to Bronwyn. “Drink this.” He watched as she gulped at the beverage. “I could go to the parapets, the dining hall, classrooms, it would not matter. It is here in this building somewhere.” Severus stood up, hands running through inky locks. “I would ask what good is this, but now we know someone here has it.” “Under our noses.” Bronwyn finally spoke, her voice shaky. “All this time, under our noses. What a joke they have been playing on us.” She drained the glass. “On me.” Amadeus whined, nosing her hand with the glass away from her, as if to tell her no more. She set the glass down with a decided ‘thunk’ on the floor. “I know. I would pay tomorrow and I have classes.” She wanly smiled at Thranduil. “I have arseholes for parents and students who would like nothing better than to see me ejected forcibly from this school, simply because I am a muggle.” She stared down at the empty glass in the floor. “Or was married to an elf.” Thranduil shook his head. “Do they not realize who their forebearers are?” He returned to the bar and poured two more high balls. Bronwyn was staring into the fire in her fireplace, deep in thought. “No. Very few actually.” She steepled her fingers. “I suspect the Malfoys think they simply sprang from the ground, their gifts bestowed on them by whatever deity they think hands out magical gifts.” Thranduil was smiling and he handed a glass to Severus. “No one gave them anything.” He went to the fireplace, to inspect the objects placed on it. “It is a combination of Elven blood and families living generations on ley lines.” “So the lines do have something to do with it!” Bronwyn shot up from her seat, her hand immediately reaching for Amadeus. Severus’ ears pricked. Bronwyn mentioned this several times to him, her theorizing and speculation marvelously spot on. To hear a second opinion that agreed made the entire theory almost plausible. “But of course they do.” Thranduil was holding a photograph of Duncan, inspecting it closely. He replaced it reverently. “Many Elven strongholds were built on the crossing points of them. Imladris, Lorien, Edellhond… Mount Doom was built on ley lines, as was Isengard.” His voice trailed off, the Elf Lord deep in thought and fond memory. “There is a small home in what is now Wales, on the coast where many lines cross.” Bronwyn’s ears perked up. “Always women there, beautiful, powerful women.” He stopped for a moment and smiled, before smiling humorlessly at Severus. “But you know about them.” He stared at his glass, realizing that he hadn’t drunk from it. He downed it quickly, grimacing at the expected burn. “The Witch King of Angmar built a fortress on a crossroads of ley lines, but-“ he pointed to Severus, glass still in hand, “not as many or as powerful as those I speak of in Wales.” He picked up Bronwyn’s glass from the floor. “That ancient family of witches begat a most powerful line.” Thranduil quickly

Tel’ Lindar Chapter 40 You picked a fine time to come back, Thranduil or In the Crystal Shards of Your Mind *** One more time, don’t fashion me With stylish words or ramblings *** The Wizard and Elf Lord quietly made their way down many stairs, past staring ghosts, the occasional student, portraits, down, down what to some would liken to be into the pits of Hell. Or Khazad-d?m Thranduil didn’t seem to notice the portraits, how they stared, followed his progress. He was too busy noticing the worn rock, the ancient walls, the smell of… Reminds me of the mountain caves of the Greenwood… …dirt and earth and the faint smell of a disinfectant. Dumbledore was chattering away, pointing out artifacts and passage. “You have put her in the dungeon.” It was a statement, not a question and he interrupted the elderly Wizard who was in mid-sentence of his narrative. “We’ve put her close to her Guardian,” Albus admitted. “We thought it would be safer.” The Elf Lord sneered. “A dungeon.” “We’ve made many concessions for her.” Albus was not in the least bit apologetic and seemed nonplussed by it all. Without warning, the wizard pushed the Elf behind a statue of armor. “Watch out.” With a sudden outcry from nowhere, children poured from the depths, climbing up, stumbling down the stairwells. They prattled endlessly, never seeming to look where they were going. Jostling, good-natured shoving, some jeering… “Perhaps, we should wait?” Dumbledore droned. “There should be a hidden passage near here that will take us near to my office.” He looked around, trying to get his bearings. “I have lemon drops-” “N’uma, thank you.” Albus continued. “If lemon drops aren’t to your liking, I have licor-” “N’uma.” Albus found himself visually dressed down. “I desire to see Bronwyn immediately.” The Elven King noted the quiet nod from the highly thought of wizard. “It should not take but a few moments. I would be most appreciative of your hospitality afterwards.” After many minutes, the last of the galloping horde seemed to thin and disappear. “I plan to be here several days.” Thranduil stepped into the now quiet hallway and motioned in the direction they had been traveling. “I hope that is not an indisposition.” He nodded and gestured with the out-stretched hand. “After you?” “No indisposition at all,” Dumbledore stepped from behind the armor, peering at one or two straggling students. He nodded his thanks to the armor for its protection. “We can put you in the rooms Elrond used.” “Elrond used them?” the Elven King sneered distastefully. “Of course, if that isn’t to your liking, there is the small apartment the twins used.” “Twins?” “Yes.” Dumbledore made a sudden turn, moving down into the furthest depths of the dungeon. “Elrohir and Elladan-“ “Elrond’s rooms will be fine,” Thranduil snapped. Although the following statement was under an elven breath, Dumbledore clearly heard the petulantness of it and it caused him to grin. “A few days will not kill me.” ~*~ Bronwyn deeply inhaled the fumes of paint. The scent burned her lungs and she was quite certain she would pay and pay dearly that afternoon for the project she was allowing her students to impart on. She needed something to blame her headache on and the odor invading her room was just as good an excuse than the real reason. She chided herself for her pettishness. Bronwyn! Get over it! Truth be it, she should have expected retaliation from Malfoy and expected it in bucket loads. Ah well, he had been here and it was over. She drew in a calming breath and motioning to her Third Years, began to climb the scaffolding. “Does everyone have a painting smock on? Good! Fanisia, if you’ll open the door, and Royce, if you’ll open those windows so the room will air just a bit – I know it’s cold, but it’s just for a few minutes - then you can climb up and see what the First Years have done and go from there…” ~*~ The Headmaster approached a room where much laughter and uninterpretable babbling was spilling from beyond an open door. As Thranduil stepped in the doorway, he was met with a chill from cracked windows fro

Chapter 39 - SURPRISE! SURPRISE! SURPRISE! or The King of Mirkygreen Tel’ Lindar 39/? SURPRISE! SURPRISE! SURPRISE! Or The King of Mirkygreen ~*~ She was late. Of course, she was late, she was always late, always tripping down her steps, hopping in to her shoes. She fell once some months back, bouncing down on her arse, both feet in the air. Severus rolled his eyes and muttering her password under his breath, stole through the door. “Bronwyn. We will be late for breakfast. I will not wait on you.” He heard sputters of outrage from up the stairs. Bronwyn was put out. She wasn’t just *put out*; she was miffed, miffed severely and put out. “Icanfinmuhshews!” Severus stood at the foot of the stairs, finger tapping impatiently on the banister. “I cannot hear you.” There was lively cursing in some forgotten language. “I. Am. In. The. Closet! Because. I. Can’t. Find. My. Shoes!” Severus rolled his eyes and slowly climbed the stairs. “If you were better organized, you would not have this problem.” “I am organized with my clothing, you dingleberry!” She stuck her head out of the closet just as he entered the room. “I left them right here when I took them off!” She thrust an accusatory finger towards a spot on the floor. Severus strode into the small, enclosed room, seeing a well-organized closet. He looked in the floor. “Here,” he pointed to a single pair of black high heeled boots. “Shoes. Put them on.” He turned from the doorway. “Hmmm… that’s not the pair I’m looking for.” He arched an eyebrow, taking in her black woolen trousers and black turtleneck. “They match fine. Put them on.” “Severus! They are high heels! I can’t wear heels all day! Where the hell are my flats?” “I do not know and I do not care. Now let… wait…” he spun around the room. “Where is your beastie?” Bronwyn came out of the wardrobe and looked. “He’s here somewhere. Why?” The Potions Master pointed towards the bed, close to the headboard, the tip of a white tail could be seen flicking dangerously back and forth. Bronwyn dropped down on all fours and peered under the foot of the bed. Sure enough, every pair of flat shoe that Bronwyn owned was piled under the head of her bed, against the wall, Amadeus guarding them by laying between her and the footwear. “Fun time’s over, pal! Cough up the shoes!” She started to crawl under, giving Severus a delectable view of her rear end. Amadeus whined once and then began to growl and snap, baring his teeth, shocking not only Bronwyn, but Severus as well. The wolf would rather die than harm his wife and to hear him yip at her in such a testy manner… Dog, growling at your mistress! I just might get lucky tonight! …something was wrong. Perhaps the beast had come down with distemper while roaming the forest with Remus. “Bronwyn, come out from under the bed,” Severus snapped tersely. He bent down and patted her on the bum, just to make his point. She came out from under the bed, sneezing and looking confused. “He has all my shoes, but the boots and he’s growling at me. At ME!” She looked downcast. “Maybe you can get them?” Severus handed her his teaching robe and stooped down, pulling up the bedskirt. Glowing eyes and gleaming white teeth greeted him. Removing his wand, he muttered ‘lumos’, lighting up the dark recess under the bed. Sure enough, every shoe she owned lay behind the wolf, and Amadeus bared his teeth further, growling menacingly. Listen carefully, you cur. I know you can hear my thoughts because they are aimed at you. Amadeus growled again. Is there a particular reason you want her to wear the heels? Growl once. One growl. Does it have anything to do with the fact that her in heels turns you on? No growl, but eyes narrowed and the wolf lunged at the Wizard’s wand. Severus pulled it towards him, finding himself uncomfortably nose to nose with the canine. Is it pertinent to her well-being that she wear the heels? One growl. Severus groaned inwardly and slumped. Very well. Listen carefully… Severus crawled backward, recasing his wand. He stood up, straightening his clothes and reached for his robe. “Madam, your beast

Tel’ Lindar 38/45 Chapter 38 - The Artist behind the Iron Mask or The Swamp Creature from the Murky Lagoon Tel’ Lindar 38/? The Artist behind the Iron Mask or The Swamp Creature from the Murky Lagoon ~*~ Bronwyn stood in a window, watching the snow fall, Amadeus at her feet. As the day drew to a close, she regretted her harsh words spoken to Lucius Malfoy. Perhaps, regret was a strong word. She truly didn't regret them, as much as she wished she simply hadn't said them. Aloud. Granted, she realized he considered himself above her and she considered him of little account. In a sense, she had dismissed him, brushed him off rather abruptly. It was not her best moment. She sighed. Her wolf sighed as well. Far in the distance, they could see the faint outlines of the carriages bringing their charges back to the safe walls of Hogwarts. A third sigh rent the air. Bronwyn's head jerked, looking for the source, to find Crabbe standing at the next window, staring dolefully out of the pane. "Excited to see your friends?" Heavy brows drew together. "No friends of mine," he mumbled. He glanced sideways, watery blue eyes wary, before returning to gaze through the frosted pane. "No friends of mine," he repeated, "not for a while." "I'm sorry." He shrugged. "Not yer fault." He became quiet, his face screwing up in a knot, contemplating a deep, painful thought. "Uhm... thank you." Bronwyn's stomach leapt. "For what?" There was a quick half-smile on the teen's face. It was there for a moment before disappearing back into the grim visage. "For the Christmas Gift. The art stuff." The package had arrived during Christmas breakfast. The few students remaining had had gifts piled in front of them, bright and colorful wrapping pulled and shredded all over of the tables. Crabbe's table had been painfully and obviously bare. He hadn't looked up, not one whit of envy on his stoic face, as he seriously contemplated the perfection of his Christmas sausage. So engrossed in his food, pushing it from one side of his plate, to the other, he didn't realize a large grey owl had landed in front of him, package in his beak. It had been his young classmates, the twins, who finally jolted him from his doldrums, forcing him to look up and take the package from the owl. Gingerly, he removed the plain, snow-kissed wrapping, revealing glorious purple and golden paper. He reverently removed the gilded wrap, taking much care not to tear the delicate foil. In what seemed forever, every breath halted, every eye resting on the teen, he removed the large art kit. Heavy paper, pencils, charcoal. Water, oil paints, brushes... There had been no ending to the supplies in the box. Vincent removed each one, spreading them out, inspecting them. After long minutes, he solemnly replaced each piece, carefully folding the wrapping and tucking it in the top. He then stood and clasping the box to his chest, left the hall. During the following days, he was seen by few. When he was seen, he was sitting in the floor, tucked in a corner, drawing everything in sight. On more than one occasion, Rumil was seen sitting with him, pointing out line and scope, teaching in his own fashion. It was noted that the teen was going through his sketchpad paper at an alarming rate; as a result, a number of replacement pads were quietly ordered by different professors. For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, Crabbe appeared relaxed, happy and not at war with his surroundings. And now the war was returning to him. "What makes you think it was me?" Bronwyn smirked. The carriages were now more than a faint outline, their form more distinct and precise. A scowl that passed for a smile graced the teen's face as he brushed past her. "I'm dumb, ma'am, not stupid. By the way," he stopped and looked over his shoulder, "I've a problem. Maybe you can help." "What's that, Vincent?" He paused a moment as if to contemplate his words. "Nothing... nothing is safe, in the Slytherin rooms. Trunks, hiding places... Draco knows them all." His eyes skimmed the floor, embarrassment written all over his face. "Bring t

Alex beta'd this a long, long time ago.... 2003 to be exact. I had no idea it would be years before I would actually get to this spot in the story. Chapter Text Your Fantasy. My Body. Merry Christmas. Author: ZeeDrippyVessel Misadventure from - Tel' Lindar. Rated R - for incredibly insinuated hot steamy sex... Feedback? Hell yes! *** Snape stood in front of the Muggle Studies Professor's doorway, her letter clutched in one hand. He perused it a second time. Your fantasy. My body. Happy Christmas. The note was short, sweet, and to the point. Things she normally was not. Well, she was short... He arched a sardonic eyebrow. It was after Christmas, her family had finally left and now... He whispered the password to her door and after tucking the note into his robes, stepped inside. "Severus? Is that you?" Bronwyn stepped around the fireplace, draped in gossamer black... flowing, frothy stuff. She lifted a mug. "Eggnog? It's loaded." "No." He made his way forward, eyes focused on his prey. She had the good sense take a step back and appeared to be slightly alarmed. She looked around nervously. "Fruitcake? Figs?" She snatched up a dish from the fireplace with candied something-or-others. She thrust the dish forward with an expectant look. "Chestnuts? I just took them from the fire." He could hear them still sizzling. A silly, annoying song about 'chestnuts roasting on an open fire' rose in the air. He closed his eyes, in attempt to ward off one of those spastic headaches she was so adept at causing. Apparently, she saw the look on his face, as the music came to an abrupt halt. "Mints?" She attempted to placate. The look did not suit her. "No." He was now standing in front of her, coiled inwards, hands tucked into the crook of his elbows. She set the dish down with a slight 'bang' and scowled upwards. "No?" "No." "Fine! Mistletoe?" she gritted from clenched teeth, eyes moving to an area by her doorway. Oh, but she was tart! "No. I do not 'do' mistletoe." She settled her fists on her ample hips. "You do not do mistletoe? Who are you? Severus 'Scrooge' Snape?" Snape's head tilted. "Ho... Ho... Ho..." he sneered. "N'uma!" Bronwyn snarled and went to move around him. "Scrooge says 'Bah Humbug'. Santa Claus says 'Ho Ho Ho'." He grabbed her arm as she went around, halting her movement. Fiery brown eyes stared him through. "I have come to collect my gift." "You took your gifts already. Remember?" She gestured to the fireplace, emptied stockings - including the one she had hung for him - still hanging. "There was one other." "Oh really? Which gift would that be? Refresh my memory." The parchment came out of his sleeve with a snap and he read, decorously. "Your fantasy. My body. Happy Christmas." He rolled it back up and returned it to its place. "This was in an oversized, obnoxiously happy wrapped box..." She grinned snarkily. "...which turned out to be fourteen wrapped and nested boxes, in truth, to get to one small envelope with this gift," he continued. "I singed my fingers attempting to open the boxes it came in." "Remus did well in warding them then. I do believe I remembered the note attached to the outside telling you not to use magic on them." She shrugged elegantly. His arm whipped out and pulled her roughly against him. "I have waited patiently," he whispered. "Do you wish to know what my fantasy is?" Hooded, flaming orbs gazed directly into his. His hand grazed around her ear, brushed her neck and a single digit stroked between the slash of the neckline of her gown, gently pushing it to the side to free one breast. He cupped the heavy underside, thumb gliding over the hardening nipple. "Do you?" Her breathing quickened. With his hand still on her breast, he took the other and pulled her flush, leaning over and grazed her ear. He felt her shiver at his touch. "For the longest time, I have dreamt of bending you over a table... a chair... anything, it truly does not matter.. and throwing your skirts over your head." "And then?" Her voice was a raspy whisper. "And then," he leaned over, his lips caressing her ear, "and then, I a

Chapter 36 - Your Arse is Mine or Beer for my Wolfses Tel Lindar 36 Your Arse is mine or Beer for my Wolfses *** "Good. I will join you." Bronwyn's jaw dropped at the pronouncement. "Severus," she began awkwardly. "I believe I can -" "Oh," he interrupted silkily, stepping up on the stair, and setting the ancient book he had seized from the cellar on the side table, "I have no doubt you can bathe on your own. I, however, intend to join you." Bronwyn backed up another stair, in a hopeless attempt to keep some distance between them. "I... uh... don't think the shower is large enough to accommodate the two of us." "You forget," he drawled, continuing his mounting assault on her, "this is a magic castle and I can be rather persuasive when it comes to..." and with this he perused her body leisurely, taking in every curve, every nuance, the obvious heaving of her chest, "enlarging and expanding what is necessary to accommodate our needs." He followed her, turning the corner of the landing, his eyes glittering in the low light. His heavy cloak hit the floor with a whisper. "Severus," she tried again, "I'm very tired-" "You do not desire sleep." "I'm sweaty and there's gore on my clothes. See?" She stuck out a boot, dried Orc evident, as if that pitiful offering would halt him. "I will bathe it from you. Do you think a little blood and gore would deter me?" They had reached the landing and he backed her towards the bathroom. Bronwyn tried one last time. "Severus. We agreed. No games." An evil, wicked smile split craggy features. "Do you think this is a game?" Bronwyn was now pinned to the bathroom door, eyes wide as a frightened doe. The Wizard reached out and grabbed her hand as she was reaching for the doorknob. With finesse that would have shocked Lucius Malfoy to the core of his snake-handled cane, he brought it to his lips, tongue flicking the nicks and crevices, as if to sample the dirt and grime from her evening’s efforts. His other hand moved behind her, cupping her derriere, moving her in towards his body, his very core. "Make no mistake, Bronwyn," he whispered against her fingertips, "I have every intention of having my way with you tonight. You will not gainsay me, you will not tell me no. You have no desire to stop me; why bother?" "Very sure of yourself, aren't you?" She tried to sound nonchalant, uncaring, but it rushed forth, breathless, needy... Ooooh, so very needy. Removing his hand from the curve of her backside, Severus reached for the doorknob and opened the door. "I am sure," he began, moving her, waltzing her, into the small bathroom, "that I am going to remove your clothing, get you into the shower. I am sure that I am going to lather every delectable inch of your body with whatever feminine foamy thing you have sitting around. I am sure that I will lick and tease and stroke and touch you until you are burning and begging for me to complete what I have started. And then..." he let his voice trail, his eyes taking in her entire form. "And then what?" "And then I shall finish what I have started." *** And in the silence of a mist, of a morning mist When lips are waiting to be kissed, longing to be kissed Where is the reason to resist and deny a kiss That holds a promise of happiness? A Man and A Woman Johnny Mathis *** His mouth found hers, at the same time his hands breached the skin above the waistband of her pants. He released her long enough to pull the shirt over her head, throwing it into a corner. Severus didn't stop to enjoy her flesh, didn't register that the bra she wore was plain, simple. He simply grabbed her and pulled her into him again, both hands cupping the delectable curve of her arse. He ground against her, daring her to defy him, to deny desire. Truth be told, she was denying nothing; no, she had his bottom lip firmly in that molten cavern from hell she called a mouth, her tongue, coaxing more from him than he wanted to give. She was moaning enough for both of them; no need for him to create a duet. He lifted his hands, up her back, caressing creamy flesh and finding the hooks of that dam

Tel Lindar 35 The Scent of an Uruk-hai or A MidWinter Night’s Squalling *** "Severus, I'm not too sure about this!" Bronwyn stood with the Potions Master in front of his fireplace. She was wearing all black and had a short sword and knives strapped to her. Discreetly tucked into her back waistband was the small, tattered teddy-bear that normally sat on her mantle. Amadeus stood at her side, looking equally dubious. "Does anyone know these people?" The Wizard scowled for two reasons. One, that she even questioned him, but she did that and one would think that she should know better, or he should be used to it. Second, she echoed his own sentiment. That was beyond disturbing. "No, they are Muggles, but by all reports, they are gone for the holidays." He scowled at Amadeus. “Where is his leash and what is that ridiculous thing stuffed in your trousers?” "He cannot protect me if he is leashed!" Bronwyn hissed. "It’s my teddy and whose reports?" "The Aurors," Severus hissed back. "Several checked-" "Do you mean to tell me that Wizards," Bronwyn was still hissing, as if she were afraid of being overheard in Severus' own private chambers, "have been canvassing my neighborhood, knocking on doors, ‘Excuse me, but are you home? We need your fireplace to Floo one of our teachers-’" "Do not be asinine." Severus picked up a handful of Floo powder. "Albus could not procure a Portkey quickly enough without raising the eyebrows of Wizards and Witches we would rather not garner the attention of." "Why are you whispering?" Severus' eyebrows knit together in anger. "Why are you?" "Because you are! Hey!" Bronwyn reared up. "I asked first!" "Are you ready?" Despite Severus' bravado, he was worried. Bronwyn had come to the same conclusion as he when told where they would be going, and this worried him immensely. A Muggle home. True, it was close to Bronwyn's Welsh cottage - only a few minutes walk, he had been told, but still, a Muggle home. Granted, he had been assured that Aurors had checked the place out, had thoroughly been assured that the owners had taken their annual Christmas hols to Paris. Still... Nodding to Amadeus, the wolf stepped into the cavern as Severus threw the Floo powder into the fireplace, shoving Bronwyn forward and stating clearly, "Orwen Dafydd." *** He was first aware of running into her as he stepped through the fireplace. He was secondly aware of screaming. Not hers. Bodily, Severus lifted Bronwyn, setting her to the side. He could feel the unusual snake wrapped around her upper arm under her sleeve. The screaming was continuing and he looked to see a young man and woman completely naked on the rug in front of them. The wretched high-pitched noise was coming from the young man's mouth. "Stop that, caterwauling," Severus demanded. "You sound worse than a girl." It didn't help. If anything, it got worse. With a roll of his eyes, Severus pulled his wand and pointed at the young man. "Silencio." The high-pitched screeching immediately stopped, the young man's mouth still hanging agape. "I thought," Bronwyn had sidled up to Severus and was whispering loudly in his ear, "you said this place was uninhabited, that the residents were out of the country?" The girl had managed to grab part of the rug and attempted to cover herself, wide-eyed and in shock. Severus pointed his wand at her. "What is your name?" "Ma... ma... Maggie." Severus smiled. It wasn't reassuring. "Hello, Maggie," he crooned softly. "Who lives here? You or the Opera Singer to your left?" She nodded to her left at the silent young man. "George." Severus squatted down, pulling more of the rug up so the young woman could cover herself better. "I suppose George's parents own this lovely abode?" "Y...y... yes." Amadeus materialized from behind a chair, dragging a blanket. He dropped it next to the young woman, who snatched it and covered herself, not paying attention to where it had come from. "And while they were gone to the Continent, the two of you decided to enjoy the quietness of the country." "Y...y... yes..." "Romantic, is it not?" Maggie's jaw flapped s

A/N - As a few of you know, I have two betas - Niamh and Alex, whom I adore. Sometimes late at night, I will stay up very late and bounce bunnies with Niamh, who has taken my insanity in stride and much of what you see is the results of that late night push and pull. As a result of this - we came up with two very plausible entrances to Elrond's twins. I chose to go with one scenerio, yet the second was equally interesting and original, so I have inserted it here. I want to make very clear that this scene would not be as it is if it wasn't for Niamh. It's as much hers as it is mine. Chapter Text Chapter 34 - Embraceable You or I am your Father, Luke A/N - As a few of you know, I have two betas - Niamh and Alex, whom I adore. Sometimes late at night, I will stay up very late and bounce bunnies with Niamh, who has taken my insanity in stride and much of what you see is the results of that late night push and pull. As a result of this - we came up with two very plausible entrances to Elrond's twins. I chose to go with one scenerio, yet the second was equally interesting and original, so I have inserted it here. I want to make very clear that this scene would not be as it is if it wasn't for Niamh. It's as much hers as it is mine. Tel' Lindar 34 Embraceable you or I am your Father, Luke *** "Tell me something, Hal-dear. Tell me about The Embrace." Severus' features were harsh in the light, craggy as twisted metal, more exaggerated in the glow of the low fire. ***An embrace, you neithadol, is where two people wrap their arms around each other and hold the other close. It is better known as a hug. Seeing your attraction to my wife, I would think you are a Big Wizard and would know that.*** The wolf turned back towards the door.***If that is all you wished to see me about-*** A red bolt shot from Severus' wand, blocking the animal from leaving. "Ah, but things happen when one hugs your wife." ***Not necessarily so. *** The wolf's back was still turned. "Accio Haldir." The vulpine embodiment of the Lorien Elf flew through the air, landing with a painful thud in front of the Wizard. Quickly, too quickly, he regained his paws and with a lurch he launched himself at the Wizard, knocking him backwards off his chair to the floor, his wand flying through the air. Severus heard it skitter under a shelf, but at that moment his entire being was riveted on the angry jaws mere inches from his throat, the wolf sitting squarely on his chest. ***Say it, mem-raen. Say it. I know you want to.*** Haldir's voice was a low croon and in the deepest recess of Severus' fevered mind, he wondered if it had sent chills up Bronwyn's spine. "Say what?" Severus' voice oozed, slick as oil. Amadeus' weight settled heavily on the Wizard's chest, making it difficult for the man to breathe. The wolf leaned in closer, his muzzle against Snape's nose. ***Just how easily you could make me a white, furry rug for your fireplace.*** "Oh," Severus' voice was still silky, still caressing, "That would be so very easy, Acci-" he stopped as the wolf gently clamped his jaws around the man's throat. ***I have no qualms. None whatsoever. Test me. Saes." "Your wife," Severus whispered hoarsely, "still needs me." ***Not with Thranduil coming. If he can pin-point the location of the bow-*** "It is still in the hands of a Wizard." ***True.*** Amadeus' jaws did not let up.***But I believe Lupin, Dumbledore, even Minerva, would be willing to aid her.*** The heat from the wolf's breath was uncomfortable and it took every ounce of Severus' self-control to keep from shaking when Amadeus caressingly licked his throat with his tongue. "Correct me if I am wrong, Hal-dear, but as I recall, the Valar assigned her to me. Not Lupin, not the headmaster and not to Minerva. To me." The iron vise grip still did not let up . ***True, but let me remind you, lest you forget,*** Finally, the wolf released the Wizard. ***You cannot kill me. I will keep coming back. I do not think you could compete with a viable, tangible ghost.*** Amadeus sat up ***Do not ever Accio me again.***He stepped off the man

Tel' Lindar 33 What goes good on toast or Limericks fit for a beast. *** There were woods... breeze non-existent... dark. The smell of old things, ancient insects of unknown species... The Forbidden Forest? The Voyeur closed his eyes in disgust. This was over. It was supposed to be over. Did the Big Elf not accept... ***Merlin, still I do not accept. Why should the Big Elf?*** "What now?" The Voyeur patiently made his way down the path, ducking low-lying branches, eyes and ears watching, listening for any pitfall. "What could you possibly show me now?" He was answered with a child-like giggle... sounds of swinging, noise, in the treetops. "What game is this?" The Voyeur's movements became purposeful, moving with fluid grace through the heavy, oppressive air. "Elf. I am in no mood..." "Not he, not he!" The voice answered, too child-like to be mocking; too ancient to be anything else. The Voyeur's hand went to grasp his wand, only to remember it was useless in this world. "Show yourself." From nowhere... everywhere... the annoying giggle continued. "Yew n'ready..." "Oh, I think I am plenty ready, Elf." the Voyeur hissed maliciously. His fist was balled tight. There was a rustling in the trees, as if an ape-like creature skittered from branch to branch. "No no. N'ready." "Show yourself and stop playing this infernal game." The Voyeur's fingers were clenching tighter. "I have better things to do." From nowhere, the Child descended from the trees, stopping suddenly in front of the Voyeur, slightly out of reach and suspended a foot from the ground. His hair was dark, blue eyes strangely spaced, a wide grin split his cherubic, freckled face. Short stubby fingers interlaced as he seemed to recline backwards in the air. "You are indeed interesting, Wizard." The voice that came from the child was deep, wise, venerable. Blue eyes sparkled with mirth. "One has no idea which way you will turn, or swing." As if to mimic his own words, he began to swing slowly back and forth. "The Valar wonder what choices you will make when the time comes." "Choices?" The Voyeur sneered, his eyes darker than the deepest well of the night. "I have choices?" "Oh, yes. You have many choices." The Child stopped suddenly, blue eyes darkening to midnight. "You should be extremely careful with some of the choices you make." It was an admonishment, but the Voyeur did not seem particularly interested in the Child's opinion. "What choice must I make to rid myself of the Elf?" The Child laughed. "That would be a poor choice indeed. He has much aid to give." "He is a hindrance." "He knows the way." "According to her Nana-" "Her Nana has her own agenda!" The Child was thunderous. "So do your bloody Valar!" the Wizard reminded the Child, not so gently. "He is *in* the way!" The Voyeur finally lost his temper. "I cannot move forward because of his interference-" "Do you not understand?" Finally, the Child stopped swinging and settled gently on the ground. "He is bound to her for eternity!" "That is not my problem!" "Yes," the Child whispered. "It is your problem." He reached out as if to touch the Voyeur's cheek, only to draw back. Strange, the Voyeur could swear he felt the grazing of the wind where the Child would have touched him. "He has much to teach you." The Voyeur tucked long, slender fingers into crooked elbows. "You speak in circles and in riddles. You are as bad as he. What in all of Earth could he possibly teach me?" "About unconditional love." The Voyeur narrowed his eyes. "There is no such thing. You waste my time." He turned to leave the grotto- -only to find the Child standing in front of him. "Yes, there is. There are gifts given in a bonding. Faith, trust, but the greatest is love. Unconditional love. No matter what, he is bound to love her. Unconditionally. And while she is bound to him... and loves him, she is also bound to you. She trusts you; she has faith in you. She loves you as well." The Child's eyes filled sorrowfully. "You have many choices to make. So much lies in your hands, yet you know it not." The Voyeur leaned forward, hooked nose t

Chapter 32 - The Filthy Little Thief or A Blue Christmas Without You Tel' Lindar 32 The Filthy Little Thief or A Blue Christmas without you.\r\n\r\n *** "Excuse me?" Bronwyn smiled at him. "I said do you want to see?" "My students' N.E.W.T.S. and O.W.L.S.?" "Uhm... yes!" Severus pinched his nose in ire. "Not only is what you have done unethical and immoral, it is -" Bronwyn smirked, " - completely illegal! You... we could lose our jobs!" Bronwyn made her way around him and went into her office. He followed her to the door, intending to continue his tirade. He watched her open a desk drawer. "I'm not going to tell. Are you?" She extracted several scrolls. "Bronwyn, if you took-" "There were several copies! I don't think they'll miss one." She lifted a scroll. "Come on!" she cajoled. "Aren't you the least bit curious?" "No." "Oh, please! Where is your sense of adventure?" She waved the scroll enticingly under his considerable nose. "I have done all the adventuring I plan to do. No." "I'll be honest. I'm curious to see if they screwed you as badly as they screwed me." "What?" That brought Severus up with a start. "Screwed you?" "Oh, yes. Right up the arse without the benefit of lube," she stated baldly. "Screwed. As in 'did you wrong,' 'did you dirty,' 'did-" "I am well aware of what being screwed is. What I do not understand is what you meant by screwed me as badly as they screwed you." Bronwyn set the scrolls down and reached over to her planner. She pulled out several sheets of paper. "These are the objectives given to me for the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Years." She handed them to him. "Notice the overwhelming number of wars and plagues. Amazing, isn't it? World War I, World War II, the Korean Conflict, Salem Witch Trails, the One Hundred Years' Wars, the French Revolution, the Bolshevik Revolution, the Black Plague, the Opium Wars - now there's a fine, shining moment in Muggle history for you; the Vietnam Conflict, the Crusades-" "Bronwyn, that is lovely. I am sure the Fifth through Seventh Years are wallowing in blood and gore, but what does this have to do with screwing you? " Bronwyn rolled her eyes and flipped the scrolls. She picked one up and unrolled it. "Describe in complete detail, including dates and outcome, the causes and circumstances of the Children's Crusade-" "Bronwyn. Does this have a point? You said the Crusades. Obviously-" "Obviously not! Severus!" Bronwyn snapped angrily. "The Children's Crusade is a very sad and misfortunate footnote of the Holy Crusades history. It had no political impact whatsoever. If anything, it was the probably the first anti-war peace protest march in history. However, with the Peasants' Crusade-" "Good Gad, Madam! All these Crusades-" "Exactly!" She threw the scroll on her desk. "When one says Crusades," she pointed to the objective on her guide, "one is talking about the five Holy Crusades - usually the first one in the 1097! The Fifth Years have studied those. The Children's Crusade isn't the point. It isn't even a conflict, only a large group of mostly orphaned and peasant children marching for peace! Yet, that's what they asked about. They also ask to discuss in detail other minor skirmishes that had no bearing on the outcome. They are asking for obscure references for obscure battles for obscure wars. To make matters worse, they ask the Seventh Years questions that are from the First year objectives! I understand building a program, but they should give me time to build it! If I was responsible for making sure the Seventh Years were well versed in all seven years of objectives, they-" "- should have informed you." "Yes!" Bronwyn sagged back on her desk in relief. "Apparently, someone is out to make me look bad. If the students do horrifically, there is no one to blame but me." Severus handed her back her objectives. "If the students do not do well, your position here would be in jeopardy." "Yes, it would. I'm sorry, Severus, but the Slytherins purposely failing that test some weeks back has rather ominous connotations." "Yes, I can see where it would bother you." Seve

Fanfic Writer Asks That I Want To Be Asked - also I’m procrastinating on editing so here we are... 1. who is the hardest character for you to write? balrogs 2. who is the easiest character for you to write? eomer 3. How do you know if your writing is “in character”? no one fussing BOUt them 4. Where do your story ideas come from? conversations 5. Do you tell the people in your life that you write fics? no 6. What has been the hardest fic for you to write? tel lindar 7. What fic of yours makes you the most emotional? manna from heaven 8. What is a scene you wrote that you are most proud of? a scene from tel lindar. brownwyn asks snape to use dark magic to find her bow and severus tells her why he wont 9. Is there one character that you refuse to write? no.why? if the muse says write it,,, 10. When you write fics, how much of canon are you willing to ignore/skip over? not much 11. Do you prefer to be cold or hot when you write? im goldilocks,,, 12. What is your ideal writing area? at my desk 13. How do you come up with your titles? depends 14. How do you come up with chapter titles? depends 15. At what point in writing a fic, do you decide to quit? i inish them 16. How much of your personal life do you put into fics? not much 17. What is the most supportive comment you have gotten? some loved manna from heaven... 18. What is the most negative comment you have gotten? oh some dude at ffnet was mad because i posted 2 days in a row...and then there was annie... 19. How do you handle negative comments? i ignore them 20. What story that you have written makes you the happiest to re-read? manna from heaven and rider of the mark -- zee I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes. I am out of control and at times, hard to handle.But if you can't handle me at my worst, you absolutely don't deserve me at my best!

31 - You've got me so frustrated or Sliding down the Razor Blade of Life3 Chapter Text Tel Lindar Chapter 31 You've got me so frustrated or Sliding down the Razor Blade of Life *** The Big Elf stood at the river in the same spot where he had stood not many weeks before and grieved. He grieved his losses, grieved his pain, grieved for her. But for now, he glared, stared angrily into the water, gentle eddies swirling. Had he been looking, he would have seen fish - silver and rainbow colored marine life, that at one time he and his brothers would have spent sweet hours baiting hooks and fishing for; cooking over crackling fires while telling tall tales, each trying to out-best and out-disgust the other. However, he saw none of this, was not aware of the life playing in the water, nor of the greenery surrounding him. His gaze was stonily fixed on an orange, a slice removed, floating in the current. Followed by another... And another... And... "Saes, tell me you are not going to-" The river was filled with floating oranges, some eaten from, some not. The sound of music rose eerily from the water... ***As we go bob bob bobbing along...*** "Ai!" The Big Elf beseeched the sky. "The Valar have such a strange sense of humor!" "Of course we do, Haldir of Lorien." Tari stood behind him in the shadow of the trees, the hint of her smile heard in her voice. "It was during a fit of laughter and joyous song that we created the Hildor, the Afterborn, Men." "Bane of my existence." The Big Elf mumbled. "I should have never allowed Elessar and his band of miscreants to enter The Golden Wood. My life would have been that much easier!" "Haldir," the Valar chided, "are we back to that argument again?" A stone bounced through a break in the floating oranges. "N'uma." It was sullen, childish and the Big Elf cringed at the sound of his own voice as soon as he uttered it. "Witless Wizard!" "Ah." A stone, skipped by an unseen hand, not by the Big Elf, bounced over the water. "What?" She took in the Elf's look of amazement. "You think that all the Valar do is to sing, create, and ponder the ways to make your life miserable? Manwe skipped stones long before you were a thought in Iluvatar's mind." Another stone went skipping across the water. Oremé was not to be outdone. He created waiting." "Waiting?" "Yes. Long lines of waiting, waiting for their beasts to be brought from the stable, waiting for the children to be born, waiting for the crops to be ready for harvest, waiting in silence for their enemy to make his position known, waiting-" "Forgive me, my lady, but I think Manwe created the more blissful of the two." The Elf skipped the last of his stones across the water, before turning his back to the river. A final stone followed his as the Valar turned with him. "That is the feeling of many; however Oremé invented waiting strictly for the Afterborn, specifically the Rohirrim, whom he loved greatly. He claims it taught them patience and gave them strength of character. "Heh." The Big Elf thought back on the few Men and Horse Lords he had had the dubious pleasure of meeting. "Made them stubborn." "Made them tenacious," Tari shrugged. "They are Men." "I hate waiting." "I know, Haldir." She smiled slightly. "Oremé invented it for you, as well." A cool breeze blew through the trees, riffling strands of hair on the Big Elf's shoulders. "Haldir-" "I know, I know! She *needs* him. I see that." A cool hand smoothed the hair from behind his ear. "He did take very good care of her during her illness. Rather... innovative. Surely you cannot begrudge him that." "I do not begrudge him that." The Big Elf scowled. "He took excellent care of her." "And?" "He worried for her. Took matters into his own hands, when others were unable to help her." "And?" Angry eyes flashed deep stormy blue. "Stop that." "One would believe that you have spent too much time among us and have become over-comfortable to speak to us as equals, my Child." The Valar was no longer cajoling or humored. "Perhaps ‘tis time to send you on to the Halls of Mandos." "N'uma. Saes." As quick as the Bi