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edenfallingRandom fic scraps I've written at work, in no particular order.
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Narnia Fanfiction Scrapheap
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Shasta and animals, 3/18/2010 (250 words):
Shasta had no pets growing up. This was more a consequence of Arsheesh's temperament than of his poverty. Many other fishing families kept a dog or two to guard their chickens and vegetable plots, as well as to warn off intruders. And several intermingled clans of semi-tamed cats traded their skills as vermin hunters for an occasional scrap and the right to raise kittens in various sheds.
Arsheesh, however, disliked the company of beasts as much as the company of his fellow humans. His chickens spent their lives locked in their coop. His vegetables were guarded by nothing more than a line of stones and shells. If mice crept into his hut, he set poisoned bread to kill them, and if cats bred on his property he drowned the kittens himself.
Shasta had no feelings for mice -- they were a nuisance and would be killed one way or another. Chickens were equally unappealing, though he took pity on the pitiful flock now and then and let them into the yard one at a time while Arsheesh was busy at sea. He was slightly nervous around dogs and had no interest in giving up half his meals to feed another mouth.
But cats could and did feed themselves, and would sometimes deign to drape themselves on his lap as he mended nets. He liked their warm weight, their serpentine grace, their quiet, rumbling purrs.
Shasta wanted a cat to make its home with him instead of simply visiting while Arsheesh was away.
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Shezan at the Ulvaan temple, 11/24/2012 (200 words):
As the eldest of the pledged novices, it was Shezan's responsibility to open the main doors of Achadith's temple every day at dawn and the start of the first hour. The temple never truly closed, of course, but the doors were a symbol of welcome. The water in the basins at the feet of the guardian statues also needed to be changed in order to remove dust and any other contaminants that might have appeared overnight.
Occasionally other things appeared as well.
Shezan blinked down at the crying toddler on the broad, shallow steps of the temple, its limbs firmly wrapped in undyed cotton to keep it from wandering away. The child turned its small head to face her and cried harder, wriggling within its constraints.
Within her constraints, Shezan realized after a moment's thought. A boy would have been left at Tash's temple on the western end of the great, dusty bowl of the ancient battleground, beyond the memorial grove and labyrinth. Or perhaps not -- sometimes Achadith's role as the guardian of the displaced outweighed other considerations -- but in either case, there was no use standing like a fool.
She knelt and began to free the child's limbs from the imprisoning cloth.
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AU first meeting for Ilgamuth and Shezan, probably Oct/Nov 2011 (175 words):
(I didn't date the paper, but this snippet was obviously written before I wrote the ending of "To Every Thing There Is a Season," and since I wrote the ending of that story first... this was either a very rough draft of the relevant scene or an independent scribble I later used as inspiration.)
The first time Ilgamuth met Shezan, she was still Shezan Tarkheena, and she was scornful of him in the way young women are to boys, conscious of every day of the year and month she held in advantage over him.
She strode into Prince Rabadash's rooms without waiting to be announced -- without even the minimal courtesy of clapping -- and said, loudly, "O my brother, I have heard rumors that you went to war a child and returned a man, your spear and sword drunk on rebel blood, yet I see nothing but a pack of cubs playing at wolves."
"Who are you to speak to the prince in such words?" Chlamash demanded, leaping to his feet, his face flushed dark with the heady unfamiliarity of unwatered wine.
"Who are you to speak to my milk-sister in such words?" Rabadash said, his tone deceptively mild. Chlamash blinked, looking from the seated prince to the standing girl in confusion. Then he swallowed and hastily resumed his seat on the carpeted floor.
Ilgamuth took the wine jug from Chlamash's now-slack hands and set it carefully aside.
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Jill and Eustace in Aslan's country, 11/5/12 (250 words):
(Inspired by the 11/5/12![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
15_minute_fic word #254: home)
Time meant little in Aslan's country, so far as Jill could tell -- unless she wanted it to, in which case she was suddenly aware of every passing second and its position in the endless, dizzying expanse of eternity. She felt that sort of knowledge ought to crush her mind, but just as this land was larger inside than out, so she herself seemed to have grown, and might indeed never reach the limits of her soul any more than she could find a boundary to this world at the heart of all worlds.
And so she knew it was precisely three weeks, two days, eight hours, one minute, and twenty-five seconds after Peter closed the stable door when Eustace turned to her and said, "Let's go home."
"Aren't we already?" Jill asked, but she knew what he meant. Narnia was lovely, but it had never been their own country, not like it was for Eustace's cousins. For her it was more a special holiday destination than anywhere she could imagine living for years on end.
Eustace gave her a sour look. "Don't be obtuse, Pole."
Jill offered him a peppermint by way of truce. Eustace made it vanish into his pocket and dusted his hands.
"I don't know if I want to find our old houses," he said, "but at least we'll be messing about in familiar country."
"Or unfamiliar," Jill said. "There must be trains and aeroplanes. And I've always wanted to see the world."
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And that is it for Narnia fic scraps. (I do have another unfinished piece I wrote at work -- the Aravis/Cor backrub thing that took a random turn into vaguely kinky sex -- but that is longer and it will become a proper finished story one of these days. OR ELSE. *frowns meaningfully at the fic in question*)
---------------------------------------------
Narnia Fanfiction Scrapheap
---------------------------------------------
Shasta and animals, 3/18/2010 (250 words):
Shasta had no pets growing up. This was more a consequence of Arsheesh's temperament than of his poverty. Many other fishing families kept a dog or two to guard their chickens and vegetable plots, as well as to warn off intruders. And several intermingled clans of semi-tamed cats traded their skills as vermin hunters for an occasional scrap and the right to raise kittens in various sheds.
Arsheesh, however, disliked the company of beasts as much as the company of his fellow humans. His chickens spent their lives locked in their coop. His vegetables were guarded by nothing more than a line of stones and shells. If mice crept into his hut, he set poisoned bread to kill them, and if cats bred on his property he drowned the kittens himself.
Shasta had no feelings for mice -- they were a nuisance and would be killed one way or another. Chickens were equally unappealing, though he took pity on the pitiful flock now and then and let them into the yard one at a time while Arsheesh was busy at sea. He was slightly nervous around dogs and had no interest in giving up half his meals to feed another mouth.
But cats could and did feed themselves, and would sometimes deign to drape themselves on his lap as he mended nets. He liked their warm weight, their serpentine grace, their quiet, rumbling purrs.
Shasta wanted a cat to make its home with him instead of simply visiting while Arsheesh was away.
---------------
Shezan at the Ulvaan temple, 11/24/2012 (200 words):
As the eldest of the pledged novices, it was Shezan's responsibility to open the main doors of Achadith's temple every day at dawn and the start of the first hour. The temple never truly closed, of course, but the doors were a symbol of welcome. The water in the basins at the feet of the guardian statues also needed to be changed in order to remove dust and any other contaminants that might have appeared overnight.
Occasionally other things appeared as well.
Shezan blinked down at the crying toddler on the broad, shallow steps of the temple, its limbs firmly wrapped in undyed cotton to keep it from wandering away. The child turned its small head to face her and cried harder, wriggling within its constraints.
Within her constraints, Shezan realized after a moment's thought. A boy would have been left at Tash's temple on the western end of the great, dusty bowl of the ancient battleground, beyond the memorial grove and labyrinth. Or perhaps not -- sometimes Achadith's role as the guardian of the displaced outweighed other considerations -- but in either case, there was no use standing like a fool.
She knelt and began to free the child's limbs from the imprisoning cloth.
---------------
AU first meeting for Ilgamuth and Shezan, probably Oct/Nov 2011 (175 words):
(I didn't date the paper, but this snippet was obviously written before I wrote the ending of "To Every Thing There Is a Season," and since I wrote the ending of that story first... this was either a very rough draft of the relevant scene or an independent scribble I later used as inspiration.)
The first time Ilgamuth met Shezan, she was still Shezan Tarkheena, and she was scornful of him in the way young women are to boys, conscious of every day of the year and month she held in advantage over him.
She strode into Prince Rabadash's rooms without waiting to be announced -- without even the minimal courtesy of clapping -- and said, loudly, "O my brother, I have heard rumors that you went to war a child and returned a man, your spear and sword drunk on rebel blood, yet I see nothing but a pack of cubs playing at wolves."
"Who are you to speak to the prince in such words?" Chlamash demanded, leaping to his feet, his face flushed dark with the heady unfamiliarity of unwatered wine.
"Who are you to speak to my milk-sister in such words?" Rabadash said, his tone deceptively mild. Chlamash blinked, looking from the seated prince to the standing girl in confusion. Then he swallowed and hastily resumed his seat on the carpeted floor.
Ilgamuth took the wine jug from Chlamash's now-slack hands and set it carefully aside.
---------------
Jill and Eustace in Aslan's country, 11/5/12 (250 words):
(Inspired by the 11/5/12
15_minute_fic word #254: home)Time meant little in Aslan's country, so far as Jill could tell -- unless she wanted it to, in which case she was suddenly aware of every passing second and its position in the endless, dizzying expanse of eternity. She felt that sort of knowledge ought to crush her mind, but just as this land was larger inside than out, so she herself seemed to have grown, and might indeed never reach the limits of her soul any more than she could find a boundary to this world at the heart of all worlds.
And so she knew it was precisely three weeks, two days, eight hours, one minute, and twenty-five seconds after Peter closed the stable door when Eustace turned to her and said, "Let's go home."
"Aren't we already?" Jill asked, but she knew what he meant. Narnia was lovely, but it had never been their own country, not like it was for Eustace's cousins. For her it was more a special holiday destination than anywhere she could imagine living for years on end.
Eustace gave her a sour look. "Don't be obtuse, Pole."
Jill offered him a peppermint by way of truce. Eustace made it vanish into his pocket and dusted his hands.
"I don't know if I want to find our old houses," he said, "but at least we'll be messing about in familiar country."
"Or unfamiliar," Jill said. "There must be trains and aeroplanes. And I've always wanted to see the world."
---------------
And that is it for Narnia fic scraps. (I do have another unfinished piece I wrote at work -- the Aravis/Cor backrub thing that took a random turn into vaguely kinky sex -- but that is longer and it will become a proper finished story one of these days. OR ELSE. *frowns meaningfully at the fic in question*)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-06 01:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-07 02:27 am (UTC)I also like the Jill and Eustace piece, but it feels like the opening of a longer story, not something complete in and of itself, and I have no real idea where to take it. Alas. :-(
(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-06 06:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-07 02:28 am (UTC)