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What do you fear my lady?

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have posted two new chapters/poems to my aragorn x éowyn narrative poetry longfic a thousand wings

excerpt from vi. but here, women are raised to fight

his eye falls on the travel cloak

—she has been fiddling with a frayed 

edge

unthinkingly

a mistake. 

he lifts a brow–a question. 

     i don’t know much about whence you come from, my lord, she defends, voice low. 

         she sips away the bitter thought of gossamer elf-maids.

     but here

         —she takes her shield in a swift gesture, though its weight would steal her breath, she will show no weakness as she attaches it to her saddle and mounts, for she is not gossamer, she is not life undying, she is fire and steel and will spark and burn long before the world’s ending—

     women are raised to fight. 

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The Lord of the Rings The Fellowship of the Ring (2001) dir. Peter Jackson

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updated my éowyn x aragorn narrative poetry fic a thousand wings on ao3!

excerpt from v. for death and for glory:

     i argued against, my lady, he murmurs.      the strategy is not sound. but my word is not      the king’s.

no one’s is. and no one’s is heard, not when grief and an unbecoming lust for glory settle on wisdom’s brow.

the hero of legend may be remembered by those not yet born. but the one who packs      the kitchen      the blankets      the bandages      the tonics ensures       that more will be born. 

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updated my éowyn x aragorn narrative poetry fic a thousand wings

to the doorway, she leads with chin high, as if jousting.      what is it you see, my lord? his eyes flit over her; a foreign warmth in her cheeks.      a leader, he says.  who knew that a compliment, so full-heartedly given,  could smart  like a slap.       whom no one listens to, she replies. bitterness is a tonic taken thrice daily.  the only medicine in times like these      when her brother is banished      when her cousin is dead      when the king looks through clouds and sees naught but       barrow wights and twilight gloaming       when aught he hears are songs composed      of death and a glory           not yet earned.

from iv. what are the words of a woman on ao3

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Mucha inspired Eowyn illustration

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the sheer bliss of writing fic under a pseud that no one knows 🥹

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precisely the vibe of my fic a thousand wings on ao3

ARAGORN II & ÈOWYN THE LORD OF THE RINGS: Return of the King — 2003

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excerpt from my latest chapter of my éowyn x aragorn soon-to-be longfic (if narrative poetry counts as long)

but she, shield-maiden: she is a blade      grasp her, carry her close      with you she rides into fury and fray      sharpen her steel, and she will slice          your heart      and swallow your dying breath, hot as only       can be           a mortal’s kiss. 

read from the beginning: a thousand wings by bitbybit on ao3

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honest to god posting on ao3 is so healing? i've been really struggling with a sense of play in my work lately. (woe is me that writing has become a full time job.)

my first poem got two (2) kudos and one of those was from someone i know, so you know, pretty sure literally no one reads it. but! i'm writing poetry for the first time since uni? it's unlocking my brain a bit. especially because it's fic, and therefore inherently narrative poetry, and inherently about someone else--i'm not picking my own scabs. i'm not doing serious wound-work.

i feel so free! anonymous! yay!

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excerpt from a longer piece i just posted on ao3

my lady, he says, and when he bends from waist an outreached hand, as if  to take hers                                   to take her to bring it to fish blue lips and mark it with clammy breath.  her spine stiffens; coursing shudder.  they are candle and shadow:  she cannot glow without       his presence curling greedy at her feet she cannot enter any space without       a crawling on the back of her neck      a lifting of hairs on forearms king’s adviser      king’s snake          king’s worm.  even the fur lining his cloak  seems to mat with oil from his scalp from tongue from soul.

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bird in cage

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new post on ao3

it's a poem from eowyn's pov and i'm pretty proud of it, given it's my first ever post there!

an excerpt:

as she pulls the sword from its sheath, it is a sound like birds taking flight, a thousand wings, a thousand beaks turned skyward, as one, they lift, and rise to azure autumn skies.

--bitbybit