Oc trash stories
((Stuff i wrote for some dwarf siblings i created, i love my babies)) Thurna was the eldest, so it made sense that she got the best. Only, that wasn't the case. It never worked in her favor. Did it? It was like the Valar themselves were working against her. Found your One? Congratulations, but sorry, you cannot have children. Love your sister? Terribly sorry, Thorna was banished by the King. Everything always worked out horibbly. Sure, she had a bad relationship with Thorna, but don't all siblings have problems? Ah, but all problems lead to bigger ones. The dragon for instance. It took away her love, Balbor. He was sweet, a kind dwarrow. He could craft the most beautiful necklaces. So many times did she miss him. That accursed dragon had taken away her love. And Thurna had become hollow. Like a cavern, never to see light. Beautiful in dark silence. Everything felt silent. There was no joy. No love, no anymore. She had no room in her heart for anything else. So Thurna had traveled in poverty to Ered Luin. To find some hope. But hope was futile. She had gotten entangled in Anazulbizar. The stench of blood dripped from the air like billowing spider webs. The wind was musky and rough. The lives of dwarves lay short and pointless. Thrór had been mad. And had lost his head for it. Thurna had abandoned her post, and took up arms. She had cleaved orcs left and right. Getting caught in the flurry of battle. The figures were blurs and red dots had sprung into her vision. A red pain in her side. Wounded. She didn't care. She kept fighting. She wanted to feel again. Something, anything! She was a hollow stone for her jewel was dead, laid waist to dragon fire. So she bled and fought, bled and fought, and bled, and bled. Until all she could see was red. And once more she was stuck. A sword through the chest, protruding from her ribcage. Coughing, Thurna laid. Her face turned to the sky, and she imagined her One by her side. Her eyes clouded, and gave way to nothingness. ---- Thorna had been banished, a very simple affair. Thrór had a grudge against elves, so it made sense that he would banish one of people for loving one, right? That's what she wanted to believe at least, but Thorna knew in her heart it wasn't true. King Thrór was spiteful, and cared for no subject. Only gold. So she had been banished, along with her One, Zeeli. For eight years they lived in the Greenwood, peacefully, to say the least. Sure the elves had given her funny looks from time to time but that was truly it. But it had to change. Dragon-fire and desolation. It destroyed all, even the home she had grown in and the home she had come to love. For dwarves were not allowed in the Elven King's realm anymore. No, they deserved no help. So once again, Thorna was homeless. But this time, she was alone. For fifteen years she wandered. Wondering if she could rebuild her life and see her One, one last time. But fate is cruel to the kind. So Thorna turned west, to the lands of Rhudaur. While crossing the Misty Mountains she was set upon by goblins. Nasty creatures that only wanted blood and bones. They had banged on their crude drums and shaken their skulls, whilst Thorna had been taken to the Goblin King. A young, foolish goblin, who was fatter than his age, and had the stomach to prove it. She spat at him, and was dragged away as the young king had screeched orders of what to do with her. They took her to their dark, dank dungeons, full of large mushrooms and crawling moss. And the ever so gentle sound of drip-drip could be heard if one listened. There was always silence. Even when she was tortured, Thorna held fast. A mighty stone, firm and stout. It drained her energy. The pain. It weakened her bones, til one day, she couldn't stand on her own. Then she had been chained upward, like a child's drawing tacked up on the wall for all to admire. Blood had trickled down her face, her body was stretched. Deep grooves cut into her wrists, and dark shadows lay encircled under her eyes. She closed her eyes once, in the silence. Took a deep breath. And never opened them again. ---- Thirna was the youngest, and most deserving of chance. But he received the least amount of sympathy. Only a babe. Their mother had brought him into the world, and Thurna and Thorna had been astounded. They fell in love instantly, of course, he was innocent and loved by many. One hour went by. The coughing began. The babe, not even young enough to open his eyes had hacked and rasped. But, with a thump he was fine. The second hour passed. The wheezing continued. Mother got anxious, the dwarflings uneasy. What was wrong with their baby brother? No one knew. The third, fourth, and fifth hour passed, much to the same premiss. The baby, hacked like an old man from Dale. His wheezing was like a donkey in distress. His face turned blue, the tiny fists had balled up. The children grew agitated. What was to become of their brother? The sixth hour came, and so left Thirna to the Halls of Mahal he went. A child, so young. The girls wept, and their father as well. Their mother said nothing, for she had lost her son. And so Thorna became youngest again. And their lives continued. No one spoke of Thirna, nor remembered Thorna, and Thurna was lost to battle forever. The siblings were not lucky, not were they favored. They left in peace, with none to remember. Balbor was ash, Zeeli faded. The Halls of Mahal are once more filled. The Valar are satisfied? No, they never are. By cruel twist of fate the family suffered, and now they are but an epic, a poem, left to be told. The story was theirs, but its yours to unfold.