tree_and_leaf (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tree_and_leaf) wrote2008-10-20 03:06 pm
tree_and_leaf) wrote2008-10-20 03:06 pm
Entry tags:
A placeholder for a bigger idea.
Talking of dragons
Double drabble. Sometime in the thirties, Tolkien and Lewis have a strange encounter in a pub. RPF (in the sense that it features real people as well as a fictional character, but gen); will hopefully form the prologue to something else). Inspired by one of Lewis' poems.
They were talking of dragons, possibly a little louder than they realised. The pub was small, dark, full of pipe-smoke, but empty of other customers, except for a silent fellow in an odd leather jacket, with a pale, skull-like face, and his hair close-cropped, as if he had been ill. Perhaps he had, Jack thought; he projected an indefinable air of brittleness, as if he would fall apart if touched wrongly. It reminded him of the war…
"Well, why do we desire that dragons exist?" Tollers began.
The silent man suddenly leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "Dragons," he said, "I've seen them myself."
Jack's eyes swivelled to Tolkien, who looked equally taken aback. The man, for all the intensity of his gaze, seemed quite rational. His flat, Northern voice was controlled; in fact, it had a certain authority, the sort that is inborn rather than delegated.
The man frowned at their blank faces, and then he raised his eyebrows. "Professor Tolkien. Mr Lewis. Fantastic wardrobe, incidentally."
"What?" Lewis, who had recently been mistaken for the college gardener, blinked.
"I've seen dragons. So have you, because you were there. And if you've forgotten that, there's clearly something very odd going on."
Double drabble. Sometime in the thirties, Tolkien and Lewis have a strange encounter in a pub. RPF (in the sense that it features real people as well as a fictional character, but gen); will hopefully form the prologue to something else). Inspired by one of Lewis' poems.
They were talking of dragons, possibly a little louder than they realised. The pub was small, dark, full of pipe-smoke, but empty of other customers, except for a silent fellow in an odd leather jacket, with a pale, skull-like face, and his hair close-cropped, as if he had been ill. Perhaps he had, Jack thought; he projected an indefinable air of brittleness, as if he would fall apart if touched wrongly. It reminded him of the war…
"Well, why do we desire that dragons exist?" Tollers began.
The silent man suddenly leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "Dragons," he said, "I've seen them myself."
Jack's eyes swivelled to Tolkien, who looked equally taken aback. The man, for all the intensity of his gaze, seemed quite rational. His flat, Northern voice was controlled; in fact, it had a certain authority, the sort that is inborn rather than delegated.
The man frowned at their blank faces, and then he raised his eyebrows. "Professor Tolkien. Mr Lewis. Fantastic wardrobe, incidentally."
"What?" Lewis, who had recently been mistaken for the college gardener, blinked.
"I've seen dragons. So have you, because you were there. And if you've forgotten that, there's clearly something very odd going on."
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I look forward to the next bit...
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... well, and I was bored.
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Um, do I detect some crossoverliness of a tardisinal sort?
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Glad you enjoyed so far.
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*moves forward onto edge of seat*
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I'm eagerly awaiting more. :)
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(Seriously. Put that on Teaspoon and I'll sign up for another Calufrax rec week, it's that good.)