Tolkien Fan Fiction
| 8 |
| The Chain |
| On the wharf, Dor-en-Ernil’s royal pennant flies. Behind locked doors, treason’s brewing. Lady-in-waiting Isilwen’s old Riverfork nobility, from the Ethir, proud and faithful. Faith’s hard kept these mixed days, but she’s determined. There’re always holes… The flautist knows a violinist, who when his “lady moon” shines right, drops a tune to tell “the monkeys”: time to gibber up those trees… Down through the Row, mouth to ear to a swart Haradric parfumière’s hand. She bottles it, tells a mute unwitting boy: “For my love” - who’ll give it to a merchant. So seeming innocent, yet word goes North: Castamir courts swans... |
Prompt: bottle, wharf, violin, moon, monkey, fork, hole, lock |