Tolkien Fan Fiction
| 26 |
| Man's measure |
Prompt: Isengard: "Pride is still aiming at the best houses: Men would be angels, angels would be gods. Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell; aspiring to be angels men rebel." --Alexander Pope How would a character not allowed to express his or her thoughts, creativity, or opinion act out? Capture this in a story, poem or piece of art. "Sunny" finally gets a fic in his perspective: language and responsibility are the house of our being; "Sunny" is feeling his homelessness. |
| The world is silent. Not for want of sound, but sense. He has no words. Not in this land. His companion in shame tries to give him some, but he cannot understand, cannot make himself understood. Pain speaks, and hunger, exhaustion – animal-talk only. It's another way of dying. They're animals today, but creeping numbness encroaches – who abases himself, betraying all human bonds, God makes stone in time. He can't say this, but he feels it, fears, tries, by earnest evening efforts to serve, to forestall it. But he hurts so, is so weary, he can't, and so daily prays: Mercy! |