-(1)-
It would be so. If the Shadow Man came at night, then day would be his shelter. If the dark harbored evil things then light would be his fortress. A king in his empty, empty castle. But there was no light here, not a scrap to be found or a sound to be hear. There was no color. It was as was.
Wind of Night
The house deep in the lonesome valley
Where a tired child once lay
Where a slumbering couple dreamed of happiness
Where darkness had come to abide
The walls once contained complete joy
A little boy with all his toys
The family wallowing in bliss
Ne’er expecting deaths’ cruel kiss
The wind howling a murderous tune
The trees cackling beneath it
The air was thick with palpable misery and woe
The child’s moans masked by the wind
( a little short, so it's still in the process of stretching)
-2-
It's cold. It's November and summer's stay was a painfully wonderful memory by now. At least she had the decency to come with her pitiful sweepers.
Let me explain Agnes Allotte to you. She's just under five feet tall, has wide gold-brown eyes and hair so pale it's white. It's not blonde. I refuse to call it that. It's like snow.
-1-
What is Agnes Allotte but a common person with, granted, a strange name? Someone who gets her way, no doubt. Because why else would we all be here, all of us who have respectable occupations and interests that normal people have?
No. I am not normal. The moment I was dragged into her group of eccentrics, I became a class-A freak. Why me?
I'm not wierd. I'm of normal height, weight and not too ugly. Plain is what I am. Sensible, honest, plain-old Ian. And I like that. Whatever seems to be the matter with being boring? Why is it so unforgivable here?
SLAM.
OOC: This story is based on the song Bloss by Mr Bill and Freddy Todd
Listen to it to get a mental image of what the story feels like.
EXT. ENCAMPMENT - HILL - DAY
The team crouches behind some rocks.
Tuor peeks over one of the boulders.
He exchanges a glance with Aerandir.
They all look at each other, and move towards the camp.
The team makes their way into a main tent.
Tuor, Lessien and Valandil stop by the tent opening and watch while Aerandir opens a small, wooden chest.
He pulls a stuffed animal and a carved statuette out of the chest.
The team looks hopefully at Aerandir.
BRIAN
Think this one’ll work?
TANNER
I dunno... I hope so.
A few minutes later, Gianna was standing in the gardens. Only, there wasn't any snow (as in the present), and there were actually people in them. Of course it was cold, but it seemed everyone was anxious for a little exercise after the winter snows had subsided. She spotted Grandmother with the gardeners, no doubt discussing how the gardens were to be opened for the spring and how they should be managed.
If there was one person that Gianna could not stand, it had to have been Alex Rawlings. But if she had to pick someone else, the honor would have fallen upon Lord Anthony Lang. At first, she thought that he would have been an interesting person. She didn't know many people of the nobility, and this fellow had rank and money. He also had a singularly slicked-down hair style that was hard to ignore.
And then she ignored him. After that night, she tried to keep away from his very presence; if she saw him coming, she ducked in one of her many hiding places throughout the house and lawns. Though she was successful most of the time, there were times when she couldn't help avoiding him. Such times were meals.