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fan_flashworks2022-08-27 10:30 pm
lferion) wrote in fan_flashworks2022-08-27 10:30 pm
Entry tags:
Breakfast: Silmarillion: Fanfic: Not a Princess
Title: Not a Princess
Fandom: Silmarillion
Challenge: Breakfast
Other Prompt: SWG Akallabeth in August
Rating: G
Length: 200
Content notes: N/A
Author notes: Thanks go to Zhie & Runa for encouragement & sanity-checking.
Summary: The people -- Men and Elves -- of the West coast of Ennor, both north and south, are not as naive as the Numenorians assume.
Thafre pushed the remnants of the over-elaborate breakfast about the plate, making it look like she had eaten more than she had, and remembered not to frown. The Sea Lords were treating her like a princess. She didn't like it. All hemmed about with attendants grim of demeanor and somber of tone, dressed in over-elaborate, movement-hampering clothes -- un-refusable gifts, far different from her own clothing, an insult not to wear them; not allowed to hunt so much as a rabbit, not with her own weapons, her own skill. All politeness, verbal deference, physical obstruction. If this was their lot, she felt very sorry for real princesses. Though, by their lights, she supposed she was a real princess, as a ‘daughter of the autocrat’ of her clan/people. Never mind that Tafr was more likely a brother in some way than father, and the choice of who would follow him had little to do with parentage in any case. It was semantics, and likely hair-splitting to boot. And ultimately, she was the smokescreen, not the main event, though her people certainly would not object if she managed some information or action of her own. Oh, she would have tales to tell.
By my reckoning, I have now done something for every actual prompt, including all the ones from before I started writing here.
Fandom: Silmarillion
Challenge: Breakfast
Other Prompt: SWG Akallabeth in August
Rating: G
Length: 200
Content notes: N/A
Author notes: Thanks go to Zhie & Runa for encouragement & sanity-checking.
Summary: The people -- Men and Elves -- of the West coast of Ennor, both north and south, are not as naive as the Numenorians assume.
Thafre pushed the remnants of the over-elaborate breakfast about the plate, making it look like she had eaten more than she had, and remembered not to frown. The Sea Lords were treating her like a princess. She didn't like it. All hemmed about with attendants grim of demeanor and somber of tone, dressed in over-elaborate, movement-hampering clothes -- un-refusable gifts, far different from her own clothing, an insult not to wear them; not allowed to hunt so much as a rabbit, not with her own weapons, her own skill. All politeness, verbal deference, physical obstruction. If this was their lot, she felt very sorry for real princesses. Though, by their lights, she supposed she was a real princess, as a ‘daughter of the autocrat’ of her clan/people. Never mind that Tafr was more likely a brother in some way than father, and the choice of who would follow him had little to do with parentage in any case. It was semantics, and likely hair-splitting to boot. And ultimately, she was the smokescreen, not the main event, though her people certainly would not object if she managed some information or action of her own. Oh, she would have tales to tell.
By my reckoning, I have now done something for every actual prompt, including all the ones from before I started writing here.
no subject
A strong voice of those little heard (at least in Numenorean history, that is).