The ever-amazing Pumyra has given us an RP prompt this week that really got my creative juices flowing. Thank you! I’ll be introducing some new faces, in addition to everyone’s favorite hypocrite (Lori). I took the slightly alternate route of “what if a key decision in their life ended up being the opposite choice?”
Imagine what your character might have been had they not ended up in their current occupation. Write a story about what they might be like.
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Tegil laughed loudly, his light and musical laughter bouncing across the hall. His gaze swept across his betrothed, studying her beautiful face as she tried to balance the board on her head. Every time she shifted position, another perfect muscle moved and he felt the need to re-memorize it. A perpetually stupid grin graced his face, even as she finally gave up and ripped the blindfold off. Her grey eyes narrowed as she stuck her hands on her hips.
“Tegil, what are you leering at?”
Needing no more a prompt than that, he quickly hopped up and floated over to her, gracefully dipping her without warning. He poked her nose with his own, grinning still. “Oh, just the most beautiful young woman in this whole city.”
Her face softened in just the way he loved, her lovely lips curving into a private smile. “Flatterer.”
“I speak only the truth, my love.” He dipped his head to kiss her softly.
Their wedding couldn’t come fast enough.
(Tegil decided to not ask his childhood friend to marry him, instead following the beat of his own drum and heading into the world to write poems and stories. He doesn’t regret his decision in even the slightest, but it will always be a happy “what if?” in his mind.)
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Duinelleth danced along the white shores of the Undying Lands, laughing happily. It was truly beautiful here – beautiful, and peaceful. Plopping gracefully into the sand, she ran her fingers through it and made an intricate pattern of leaves. A splash of water startled her and ruined the design. She gasped and looked up, only to immediately break into more laughter. Her husband waved with a mischievous glint in his eye, then comically made a big show of hiding the bucket he had in his hand.
“Lamaenon, how dare you ruin my sand drawings!”
“Ah, heart of my heart, it’s just sand. We can draw over here, instead.” He sat down, tossing the bucket to the side and beckoning to her.
Standing up and rushing over to sit on him instead of next to him, she grinned. “I suppose this is fine, too.”
“Ah, how I agree. Isn’t it a lovely morning? This sunrise is particularly bright.” They both looked to the east with a soft sigh of appreciation. He rested his head on her shoulder, and she quickly rested her head upon his.
“You know, I think I’ll always regret not staying – just a little.”
He tightened his grip on Duinelleth, not jealously, but protectively. “I understand…to not stay and help, it’s not in your nature. Although, I must confess…I am glad you came with us, melethril. To have you safe is my greatest wish.”
She smiled and relaxed as he pulled her closer. “I would have regretted leaving you all the more, love.”
(Duinelleth did decide to stay and help the younger races against the Shadow. Although young, she is convinced that her knowledge of mending a broken body will help turn the tide. Her betrothed sailed to Valinor, and they promised each other they would wed on the white shores once she felt at peace with departing.)
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Loriwen smoothed down her thin dress, sighing as her hair pulled out of its bun again – it never stayed in place. Grabbing the large wooden spoon and stirring the pot, she ran her fingers along the handle of the spoon instead of paying attention to dinner. The wood was well-carved, smooth despite the grains shining through in the firelight. It was the kind of work she used to do in secret, before she became with child. Once that happened, Aric made sure someone was always around her, in case she needed something. Needed something? Pah. It was one of the easiest and simplest pregnancies she had ever seen. She wasn’t a porcelain doll that would crack under pressure. So she was a bit clumsy, she wasn’t going to fall off a roof – or even be on one in the first place! Her grip tightening on the wooden spoon reminded her of where she was, her eyes focusing once again upon it. She wiped it on her apron and sat down to work on her mending.
She hated menial chores so much. Sewing, cleaning, cooking; that’s all she ever did. The perfect farm wife if there ever was one. Aric wasn’t a bad man, just boring and stubborn. A farmer, just like her father and his father, and his father before him. It’s not proper for a wife to help make the living. She can work in the family’s garden and raise the children. The men work to support everyone else. Tears began to form in her eyes as she peered into her sewing box…she held it in her lap, caressing it. She could imagine carving this box, herself. A simple notch there, a long and bold stroke there. Simple nails into the hinge here, and –
The door slammed open and three children bounded inside, one after the other noisily. Loriwen stood up quickly and wiped her eyes before turning around with a bright smile. Even if she cried herself to sleep some nights while wishing she could just run away, even if she did feel more and more trapped in this farming village every single day, she did love her children. She would do anything for them, including stay in a dreadfully dull and unhappy marriage.
“What’s for dinner, ma? Oh, is it stew? What kinda meat did’ya get?!”
Loriwen winced and rushed over to keep her youngest – only six – from falling into the fire as he peered into the stew pot. He was just like his mother, often unsteady on his feet. “Now now, Ryley, you stay away from the fire, you hear me? …And it’s your favorite, hare.” Her heart lightened a bit as she watched his dark brown eyes widen with joy. She mussed his hair and patted him off to wash with his older brother and sister. She sighed, alone again; if only for the few moments before Aric clomped inside to ask how her day went. Her answer would always be the same: “oh, the usual.”
Gods, she hated the usual.
(Aric proposed a courtship to her shortly after her father died, assuming she would want the companionship and need the support of a man. In reality, Loriwen ended up turning down his well-meant but boring offer, instead deciding to head off to the Shire for a year. She is independent, living on her own, and allowed to carve whenever she desires. She is – as of now – unwed, but is secretly harboring impatient hopes that her beloved will pop the proverbial question.)
Short Stories, RP Prompts, and Whimsy 