wails into the wind

Ashes crack, call, dull the dark
And carry to the dim horizon
Drifting weightless into the void
Breath catches, cuts the air
Drums, hearts, steady beat

             The seer speaks

Now he knows, the storming war
The dawn of time, when all was young
The witch, in hoarded halls did weave
Her wicked wyrd with serpent tongue

So metal-mad, enchantress’ song
Did stir the gods to biting rage
And there, in Oden’s shining hall
Spears did stud the squalling sage

They burned her thrice, and thrice again
She rose, reborn, in cleansing flame
The seiðr woven, webs of fate
To pull the heavens, conquer, tame

              Lightning shrieks

Embers smolder, slow, seek
And linger down amid the damp earth
Bearing, pulling into the soil
Wind wails, fills the air
Thunder rolls reluctant

So there’s this moment in 1D Day where Ziam are blindfolded and standing next to each other

And Liam (LOAM!) lifts his giant 19th century frontier’s man hands and reaches out to find Zayn

And when his massive paws make contact with Zayn’s tiny kitten man body, he breaks out into this HAPPY GRIN :’(

While simultaneously gently caressing Zayn’s waist and shoulder. Liam gets in a boob grab BUT ITS THE MOST GENTLE AND REVERENT BOOB GRAB

And he says “I’ve got Zaynie” with a smile made of the sun and my tears



“Thaht’s yew, Leeyum”

And I am a withered husk in the corner, my wails carried on the wind and used as a renewable energy source 

anonymous asked:

I am crying and also request more Natsyuu child AU, as Natsume getting happiness as soon as he can is the best thing in the world. (also does he meet the Natsume Protection Squad in this are they children or teens who adopt him as their smol friend/little bro)

Part 1

I’m glad you enjoyed it ^^

Anyways yeah, the Natsume Protection Squad are also children in this one. In this au, everything is the same, it’s just that the Fujiwaras find Natsume earlier than they did in canon. So unfortunately Natsume won’t be meeting Taki and Tanuma for a few years, but he does befriend Nishimura and Kitamoto early on, since they go to the same school.

Nishimura and Kitamoto are actually the first ones to figure out something isn’t quite right with their new friend actually.

At nine years old, Natsume is just beginning to figure out that he’s not supposed to tell other people about the things he sees, so he’s able to hide it for a while. But Nishimura and Kitamoto are just so unerringly friendly, and they’re always dragging Natsume around with them to hang out and spend time at each others’ houses. 

And at first, Natsume’s all reserved and tries not to get attached, right? Because he just knows all this is going to end. These two friendly boys are going to start hating him and not want anything more to do with him, and the sweet couple that he’s staying with (the ones who feed him lots of yummy food and let him sleep in their room and don’t even get mad when he wakes up screaming from a nightmare - the ones comfort him gently and croon sweet lullabies into his ear until he falls back to sleep) will realize what a burden he is and will send him off to another family.

But then, when it all finally comes spilling out, it doesn’t happen anything like Natsume was expecting.

They’re walking home from school, the three of them, talking and laughing about something or other. When suddenly, a youkai jumps out of the bushes at Natsume, causing him to jump in alarm.

He can tell right away that it’s not one of the nice harmless ones, so he quickly makes an excuse to his friends, and starts running towards where he knows the shrine is.

But for some reason…Nishimura and Kitamoto follow him. They’re still laughing as they ask what kind of game this is, and Natsume is too breathless with fear to answer them. By the time they arrive at the shrine, Nishimura and Kitamoto have noticed how scared Natsume is, and they’re looking around with wide, terrified eyes, huddling close around Natsume to protect him and looking warily out at the forest around them.

Natsume calms down almost as soon as they’re in the shrine, and Nishimura and Kitamoto take their cue from him. They start bombarding Natsume with questions about what is going on. But before Natsume can answer them, a sudden gust of wind and an eerie wail startles Natsume into stumbling a few steps back, and breaking a seal.

And right before Nishimura and Kitamoto’s disbelieving eyes, the door to the tiny shrine bursts open with a violent gust of wind, to reveal an ugly lucky cat statue, staring at them through narrowed eyes.

Everything is completely still and silent for a few moments, and just as they’re beginning to think it’s nothing, the statue suddenly comes alive, and the ugly, fat little cat throws itself onto Natsume, knocking the child to the ground.

It sniffs at the child’s hair, batting at his cheeks with an inquiring paw, and studying him from every angle.

And when this impromptu inspection is over, the cat sits back, and says quite decisively, “You’re not Natsume Reiko.”

Nishimura and Kitamoto jump about a foot into the air in fright, while Natsume just tilts his head to the side inquiringly.

“She was my grandmother,” he offers, and something like understanding (and maybe even pain?) flits across the calico’s features.

And before the cat can ask anymore questions, Kitamoto and Nishimura descend upon their friend, asking him question after question about what the hell is going on, and why isn’t he surprised, and omg did that tanuki really just talk???

The cat just sits there, watching, as Natsume explains everything to his friends.

It takes note of the enraged youkai pacing menacingly around the perimeters of the shrine, and it realizes rather quickly why the children have come here.

And something about the situation just doesn’t sit right with him - a child running for his life from a monster, just because he can see it? 

So while the brat’s friends are wowing excitedly about how cool it is that Natsume can see spirits, the cat approaches the Natsume brat, and introduces himself as Nyanko-sensei.

“And in exchange for food and a warm place to sleep, I will do you the honour of becoming your bodyguard” he offers generously.

Natsume is surprised at the gesture, and maybe a little wary, but before he can think to refuse (“I don’t the Fujiwaras will-”), his friends interrupt him, saying that he definitely has to tell his parents about this. Because these monsters that he’s told them about seem dangerous, and you have to tell adults about dangerous things, so that they can protect you.

And truthfully, Natsume is still hung up on them calling the Fujiwaras his parents, so he doesn’t protest too much.

And in the end, that’s how the Fujiwaras find themselves sitting at their dining table, facing three scruffy children who look like they’ve been rolling around in mud all day, and a talking calico telling them he’s their foster son’s new bodyguard.

Surprisingly, the talk goes over pretty well actually, and Touko warmly welcomes Nyankichi into their little family, bowing and saying, “We leave our son in your care.”

Little Sister [1]

Characters: Sam Winchester, child!sister!reader, Jessica Moore

Words: 2100

Summary: Let’s just say that Sam being surprised was an understatement of what he felt when he finds you in his hall, looking a whole lot different than you did the last time he saw you.

A/N: *Me trying to write something that isn’t angsty for once*

Originally posted by eternalwincest

Your name: submit What is this?

The apartment was completely quiet as Jess stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, taking in her tired eyes and her ruffled blonde locks. Why couldn’t she sleep? All she had done so far was listening to the howling wind outside the bedroom window. 

She sighed, and continued washing her hands under the water tap. 

A few minutes later, the tall woman walked across the hall towards the bedroom, where her boyfriend was asleep. But then, she heard a soft sound from the direction of the front door. Jess froze in her step, even holding her breath as she intently listened, debating if she should just ignore it or not. After a moment of silence, she continued making her way over the room, when the sound was heard again, this time more evident.

It was a knock, for sure.

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Caffeine Challenge #18

This is late but I like the prompt and wanted to find the time for it. It’s also not completed– I have a feeling I’ll work on it as the next challenge, too.
prompt: It’s snowing, which is how she knows that her lover is lying to her.

It’s snowing, which is how she knows that her lover is lying to her.

She doesn’t say anything, though. Two can play at lying.

“The trains have been terribly inconsistent lately, haven’t they?” she says instead.

“Yes, they have,” Cecilia agrees. She turns her back, hangs up her coat. “Must be the weather.”

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Wrote another Halloween thing for my writing class...

I think my Professor is going to start thinking there is something seriously wrong with me from all these witing exersises deticated to Halloween. 

I thought I would share this new one:

“The October Country. A mythical place where Autumn is forever. Where every tree is decked with gold, red, burning orange, and vivid yellow. The mist always creeps and clings low to long pale stalks of grass, and coils around the old, cracked trunks of ancient trees. The moon is always full. A ghostly galleon on the floating, sinister clouds that paint the sky and shroud the stars.

           Graveyards are plentiful here, and they sprawl out over hills like disease. The tombstones pock the ground like strange shaped boulders. Ghosts are seen floating, there macabre wails join the whispers on the wind to form a song to the dead and lost. What homes there are and decayed things, mere skeletons of their former Victorian glory. Rusted iron, weather-beaten, splintered wood. Decrepit staircases that no longer lead to anywhere, and the ghosts haunt these places, too.

           Black cats, bats, and spiders and seen creeping through this world with sinister eyes that seem to see right through your skin and down to your bones.  Monsters reside here as well. Dark, disfigured creatures from every black corner of your deepest, most horror-filled nightmares.They await you behind doors, corners, and places where the light never touches. Jack O’ Lanterns provide the only comfort with their orange, welcoming glow. Their ghastly grinning faces beckoning you to come closer, grip them tight, and cling to their light. Ancient watchers and soul protectors. They are your only friend in this fiendish world. Keeping all the terrors at bay.

           This creepy land where every day is Halloween. Where every hour is the witching hour. Where the Hessian soldier gallops headless atop his deep black steed. A darksome country that only those who live and breathe Samhain could ever love and find joy in. This is the October Country, and it is not for the faint of heart.”

Originally posted by theworldisworthagif

astro: the Earth

if astro were things that made up the Earth, mj would be the sun. he’d be the sun yelling at you through your curtains when you refuse to wake up for breakfast, the warmth kissing your cheeks on days you need them most. mj is the sun peeking behind the clouds and waiting quietly for his chance to shine on rainy days, and is the soft rays of the sunset casting everything in an orange glow.

jinjin would be the blue, blue sky that encompasses everything. he’s the sky not a lot of people spend enough time looking at but will always, always be there, welcoming every change in weather and patiently listens to their wails when it rains or when the wind howls. he’s the vast sky that takes care of the earth as best as he can and watches over you day and night.

eunwoo would be the oceans that wrap the earth. he’s both the calm surface on bright days and the rough waves during stormy nights: he’s the feeling of the sea washing up on the shoreline and caressing your ankles. eunwoo is all the layers of the ocean, the deepest, darkest depths and trenches still waiting to be discovered, quietly glimmering in the light of the sun and moon.

moonbin is everything in the sky at night. he’s the moon in the far distance that shines brilliantly on clear nights, listening to you when you cry yourself to sleep at 3am. he’s the dance of the infinite stars across the sky that captures your attention when you see him; he’s the moment you decide to sit back and watch the night sky, the chilly wind giving you goosebumps across your skin.

rocky is the earth that holds you up and the mountains in the distance you can’t touch. he’s the cracks in the concrete you always feel like slapping a sticker on  and the feeling of soil between your toes. rocky’s the grand canyon that stands tall and proud, the deserts that change during the day and night, the volcanoes in the ring of fire and the push and pull of plates deep underground. he’s the many layers of the earth right down to its core.

sanha is nature, from the unexplored undergrowth in forests around the world to the little, dainty flowers sitting on your window sill. he’s the grass that tickles your bare feet and the daisy pushing itself through the ground to take a peek at the world with big hopes and dreams. he’s the sturdy tree you lean on outside your house and the vines crawling up fences to get what they want. he’s the field of flowers you’ve always wanted to frolic through.

this is astro, which means star in spanish, but really they’re the things that make up our world.

harper’s lure draws my 
mind away to wistful 

the dark of what was
and always was

lurking beneath

almost reluctant, the redwood
has fingerprinted time to him,

obscuring sick shadows

the color of blood in the undulant
light of Arae

one frail glimmer-gleam in the  
long mechanical hew of eternity -

we build our days out of teeth
deprived of anatomy,
to gnaw or be gnawed

finite and astral ink, sweet blue
and holy days of distant moon,

wind, wailing,


Mednter - Sonata in e minor, “Night Wind”

What are you wailing about, night wind, what are you bemoaning with such fury? What does your strange voice mean, now indistinct and plaintive, now loud? In a language intelligible to the heart you speak of torment past understanding, and you moan and at times stir up frenzied sounds in the heart!

Oh, do not sing those fearful songs about primeval native Chaos! How avidly the world of the soul at night listens to its favourite story! It strains to burst out of the mortal breast and longs to merge with the Infinite … Oh, do not wake the sleeping tempests; beneath them Chaos stirs!

So reads the poem by Fyodor Tyutchev that Medtner used as an epigraph for this titanic sonata. It really does capture the spirit; the work is in two large movements, and like Liszt’s sonata in b minor, it is comprised of a handful of main melodies and motifs which undergo thematic transformation. The melodies are rich, but are also interwoven in a very complex and dense texture, where several lines are playing over each other at the same time. It is a difficult sonata to perform and a difficult one to listen to first time around, and so it is not often performed [however it has seemed to gain a resurgence of popularity recently]. It was dedicated to Rachmaninoff, who in turn dedicated his fourth piano concerto to Medtner. Despite it’s more “conservative” sound, the radical Parsi British composer Kaikhosru Sorabji declared it the greatest sonata of the 20th century. It is one of my personal favorites, with great build ups, climaxes, full of spirit, bells, nostalgia, and mystery. When I went to school at Loyola, I would take long walks along the lakefront, and one night, where a full moon shown through dense clouds and heavy winds pushed dramatically along the water surface, I listened to this piece and was almost in a trance, walking through the night, street lights and cars wiping away raindrops, the lake water smashing against the pier like a thrashing monster. The moon, the cold, the dark.


1. Introduzione. Allegro

2. Allegro molto sfrentamente


His breath escaped in a rush, almost boneless with relief as he collapsed to his knees on the hard ground of the Hollow. If truth be told, he was shaking with fear and waning adrenaline, handing quivering near uselessly as he panted for a moment before bracing his palm and the curve of his hook against the dirt to push upright, sitting back on his haunches.

It had nearly been too late. The shadow almost finished ripping his own off his body - leaving him a shade, no more than a wraith, not even an echo of his former self. To be condemned to such a fate; soulless, undying in an eternal land where time does not exist, would be worse than torture or death. Floating forever in the ether, no longer anything real, and yet neither gone to his rest nor any sort of peace.

How cruel indeed it would have been to lose the very essence of his being just as some semblance of a soul stirred within him once more…

It all came down to her - to Emma - the Swan girl. Killian Jones, for the first time in so long he had almost forgotten, the man and not the fearsome, infamous pirate “Hook”, stared across the dismal clearing at this woman, the very sight of her stealing his breath all over again.

Eyes wide, Swan could only stare back at him, mouth gaping at the coconut jumping and rattling in her hands with the captured shadow. She looked both stunned and frightened by her own power; by what she had just managed to do. Regardless, for Killian, it was as though blinding light flooded from her, chasing the darkness and the other hovering shapes away, the howling of the wind and wailing of the disembodied shades fading back from whence they came.

Her eyes barely flickered over Baelfire - Neal he remembered belatedly - before her tense green gaze searched his, asking without words if he was alright as it traveled his features.

Stupidly brave, selfless, bloody fierce, brilliant woman! She was magnificent as she came to her feet, chest heaving, face flushed with triumph she could barely comprehend. The lass should have run and left them both to their fate. Another minute and those shadows would have been on her as well. The shudder that went through him at the idea of her soulless body going cold and still was more violent than his reaction when that had looked to be his own end. She had lit their trap just in time, but he couldn’t let himself dwell on how very desperately he never wanted to see her come that close to mortal harm again.

Some would say that in nearly every way he had been a monster for ages; his soul lost long ago with the death of his brother and the murder of Milah. However, though nothing but his vengeance had kept him going for more years than he could count, the darkness he had let rule within him subsides, just as it did in their surroundings mere minutes ago. What he feels coursing through his veins in the presence of this tough, prickly lass, shows him that the soul he had deemed lost was not truly dead after all.

by @snowbellewells

silver lining

*request (cont. from previous anon) —> [Anonymous said: will you write a scenario for taeyong where you play the peppero game……] if not, then just some really soft and fluffy taeyong

Originally posted by ty0701

author’s note: 1,029 words. I had to write the second part of the request too because soft and fluffy Taeyong is what I live for. 

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anonymous asked:

Okay, but now we need to see Dark trying to convince the Jims to tear out their eyes, or see the Jims desperate enough to even consider it because their visions are so bad, and it can either end in Wilford saving them.... or not

There’s a mixture of noises in their ears, the voices of those dying and the wail of a destructive wind and filtered in, soft and sweet, is Dark’s voice. 

He says it’s the only way, the best way to make the visions more tolerable, even provides them with a silver knife to make things easier. With both of them caught in the throws of a particularly bad vision (rarer and shorter but so much worse) it seems like a perfectly viable action, anything to stop the death and destruction that flickers through their eyes. 

And why shouldn’t they believe Dark, who had been kind to them and had promised them relief? Newscaster Jim shudders as the vision leaves him, uncurling from his protective hunch and watches his twin do the same. Weatherman Jim looks pale and drawn, dark eyes unusually haunted. Newscaster Jim’s eyes flash toward the knife, unsure of how to proceed. 

He’s shaken from the vision, but he’s still indecisive, the thought of losing his eyes (especially like this) terrifying to him. But the more he thinks about it, the more he wants to try. 

Dark had promised it would be the answer. Weatherman Jim carefully picks up the knife, eyeing it warily. They’re both contemplative about it, a bloody, wide eyed little girl fresh in Newscaster Jim’s mind and a stomach churning storm whirling in Weatherman Jim’s. 

And then the door slams open, making the both of them jump and startling them out of their thoughts. Wilford’s in the doorway, manic smile in place, though there’s a strange look in his eyes that they don’t have time to decipher before it’s gone, replaced by a wild gleam. 

“You’re needed in the studio, boys!” He says, voice chipper. 

He shoots an oddly sharp glare at the silver knife, plucking it from Weatherman Jim’s hand with a “tut tut tut” and tucking it into whatever void he has in his pocket. 

“Now, now, no need for any of that”, he hums and the Jims aren’t sure if they feel disappointed or relieved. 

Son of Gotham | Part I

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,

But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.

Wet cobblestones.

Wet nose.

Jason swiped his dripping nose.

Damn, wet hand too.

Wet everything.

Wet eyes as well, but that was no matter. Don’t look at the pain, that was his motto. At least, that’s what helped in the street.

He shook raindrops from his leather jacket, wishing dreadfully for a cigarette. Anything to take the edge off (that was also his motto). He lit one, hands numb and chapped.

The city breathed like a sleeping monster. He could feel it, Gotham’s life seeping under his finger nails.

Lots of people thought him crazy, but he knew–KNEW–Gotham was alive. She was thought a cruel mistress, and perhaps was. Gotham never let go. But Jason felt in his bones, like rust and decay, how Gotham ached. Her children worked, fought, died like infernal hands atop a clock. Claws of time.

Jason kicked a loose stone. They were all susceptible to time. They were all susceptible to loss. They were all susceptible to pain.

Gotham most of all.

Sometimes he could hear her crying in the night. A wail in the wind. A frozen sob.

He could hear Gotham.

And shit this car has been following him for a while. Can’t a man in a leather jacket walk in the rain alone without suspicion?

Wait, that mental image was creepy.

Even so, Jason’s hand crept into his holster as he flicked cigarette ash into the night. The car’s lights were out. The only distinction of sound was the roll of tires in puddles. The street vigilante stopped and faced an abandoned shop, miming the action of lighting a cigarette. Jason clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth in hopes of removing the chill. He rubbed the cigarette between his fingers. The old window reflected the red tip.

The car braked about two feet back.

Jason took a puff. His hand slid down and cocked his gun.

One mississppi.

Two mississppi.


He spun around and pointed the firearm into his stalker’s face.

Lightning flashed.

Batman looked back at him.

Thunder rumbled.

They stood for a long moment.

The rain trickled in the background.

Finally Jason blinked and lowered his gun, shifting on the safety and placing it back in his holster. “Nice night,” he greeted hollowly.

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Acceptable oc names - Mountain clans

- A - Acorn, Adder, Alder, Amber, Ant, Apple, Ash, Ashen, Aspen, Arctic

-B- Badger, Bark, Bat, Bear,Beaver, Bee,Beech,Beetle, Berry, Birch,Bird, Black, Blaze, Blizzard, Bloom, Blossom, Blue, Blur, Boulder, Bounce, Bracken, Bramble, Branch, Breeze, Briar, Bright, Brindle, Bristle, Brittle, Broken, Brook, Buck, Bumble, Buzzard

-C- Cedar, Cheetah, Cherry, Chestnut, Cinder, Claw, Cloud, Clover, Cold, Copper, Comfrey, Coyote, Cream, Creek, Cricket, Crooked, Crow, Crouch

-D-Daisy, Dapple, Dark, Dawn, Dead, Deer, Defiant, Dew, Doe, Dog, Dove, Drift, Duck, Dusk, Dust, Dusty-

-E- Eagle, Ebony, Echo, Elm, Ember, Evening

-F- Falcon, Fallen, Fallow, Fang, Fawn, Feather, Fennel, Fern, Finch, Fir, Fire, Fish, Flame, Flare, Flash, Flint, Flicker, Freckle, Flower, Fly, Fog, Forest, Fox, Free, Frog, Frost, Frozen, Furze, Fuzzy

-G- Gentle, Ginger, Glacier, Glen, Gold, Golden, Goose, Gorge, Gorse, Grass, Gray, Green

-H- Hail, Half, Hare, Hawk, Haven, Hazel, Heather, Heavy, Heron, Hickory, Hollow, Holly, Honey, Hoot, Hop, Hope

-I- Ice, Icy, Ivy, Ivory

-J- Jagged, Jaguar, Jay, Juniper

-K-Kestrel, Kink

-L- Lake, Larch, Lark, Lavender, Leaf, Leopard, Lichen, Light, Lightning, Lilac, Lily, Lion, Little, Lizard, Log, Long, Lost, Loud, Love, Lynx

-M- Maggot, Mallow, Maple, Marigold, Marsh, Meadow, Midnight, Milk, Minnow, Mint, Missing, Mist, Misty, Mole, Moon, Moose, Morning, Moss, Mossy, Moth, Mottle, Mouse, Mud, Mumble

-N- Narrow, Needle, Nettle, Newt, Night, Nimble, Nut

-O- Oak, Oaken, Odd, Olive, One, Orchid, Otter, Owl, Old

-P- Pale, Pansy, Parsley, Patch, Pebble, Pelted, Perch, Petal, Pike, Pine, Plum, Pod, Pond, Pool, Poppy, Pounce, Prey, Preying, Prickle, Primrose, Puddle

-Q- Quail, Quick, Quiet

-R- Rabbit, Raccoon, Ragged, Rain, Rapid, Rat, Rattle, Rare, Raven, Red, Reed, Ripple, River, Robin, Rock, Rouge, Rose, Rowan, Rubble, Running, Rush, Russet, Rye

-S- Sage, Salmon, Sand, Scorch, Sedge, Seed, Shade, Shadow, Sharp, Shattered, Shell, Short, Shred, Shrew, Shy, Silver, Skink, Sky, Slight, Sleek, Sleet, Slug, Small, Smoke, Snail, Snake, Sneeze, Snow, Song, Soft, Soot, Sorrel, Spark, Sparrow, Speckle, Spider, Splash, Spotted, Squirrel, Stag, Starling, Stone, Storm, Stream, Stride, Stripe, Stumpy, Sun, Sunny, Swallow, Swan, Sweet, Swift

-T- Tadpole, Tall, Talon, Tangle, Tangled, Tansy ,Tall, Talon, Tangle, Tansy, Tattered, Tawny, Thaw, Tin, Thistle, Thorn, Thrush, Thunder, Thyme, Tiger, Timber, Tiny, Toad, Torn, Tree, Trout, Tumble, Tulip, Turtle, Twig, Twisted

-V- Vine, Violet, Viper, Vixen, Vole

-W- Walnut, Wasp, Water, Weasel, Web, Weed, Wet, Whisker, Whisper, White, Wild, Willow, Wind, Wing, Wish, Wolf, Wood, Wooly, Worm, Wren-

-Y- Yarrow, Yellow, Yew

.acorn, .ash, .back, .bee, .belly, .berry, .bite, .bird, .blaze, .blizzard, .bloom, .blossom, .boulder, .bounce, .bracken, .branch, .breeze,
.briar, .bright, .brook, .burr, .bush, .call, .chaser, .claw, .cloud, .crash, .creek, .cry, .dapple, .dawn, .dew, .dream, .drop, .dusk, .dust, .ear, .ears, .ember, .eye, .eyes, .face, .fall, .fang, .fawn, .feather, .fern, .fin, .fire, .fish, .flame, .flight, .flood, .flower, .fog, .foot, .fox, .frost, .fur,
.gale, .gaze, .gleam, .goose, .grass, .growl, .hail, .hare, .hawk, .haze, .heart, .heather, .holly, .hollow, .ice, .ivy, .jaw, .jump, .kit, .leaf, .leap, .leg, .legs, .light, .lightning, .lily, .mask, .minnow, .mint, .mist, .moon, .moss, .mouse, .moth, .muzzle, .nettle, .night, .nose, .nut, .oak,
.pad, .patch, .path, .paw, .peak, .pelt, .petal, .pool, .poppy, .pounce, .puddle, .purr, .quill, .rain, .rapid, .reed, .ripple, .rise, .river, .roar,
.rock, .root, .rose, .run, .runner, .rush, .sage, .sayer, .scar, .screech, .seed, .seeker, .shade, .shadow, .shell, .shine, .sky, .slash, .slip,
.snap, .snout, .snow, .soil, .song,  .spark, .speck, .spirit, .splash,
.spot, .spots, .spring, .star, .stalk, .stalker, .stem, .stem, .step, .sting, .stone, .storm, .streak, .stream, .strike, .stripe, .sun, .swipe, .swirl, .swoop, .tail, .talon, .thicket, .thistle, .thorn, .throat, .tip, .toe, .toes, .tooth, .tree, .tuft, .twig, .twist, .wail, .watcher, .water, .weed, .whisker, .whiskers, .whisper, .willow, .wind, .wing, .wish, .yawn, .yowl

Finrod’s Battle With Sauron - By J.R.R. Tolkien

He chanted a song of wizardry,

Of piercing, opening, of treachery,

Revealing, uncovering, betraying.

Then sudden Felagund there swaying

Sang in answer a song of staying,

Resisting, battling against power,

Of secrets kept, strength like a tower,

And trust unbroken, freedom, escape;

Of changing and of shifting shape,

Of snares eluded, broken traps,

The prison opening, the chain that snaps,

   Backwards and forwards swayed their song.

Reeling and foundering, as ever more strong

The chanting swelled, Felagund fought,

And all the magic and might he brought,

Of Elvenesse into his words.

Softly in the gloom they heard the birds

Singing afar in Nargothrond,

The sighing of the sea beyond,

Beyond the western world, on sand,

On sand of pearls in Elvenland.

   Then the gloom gathered; darkness growing

In Valinor, the red blood flowing

Beside the sea, where the Noldor slew

The Foamriders, and strealing drew

Their white ships with their white sails

From lamplit havens.  The wind wails,

The wolf howls.  The ravens flee.

The ice mutters in the mouth of the sea.

The captives sad in Angband mourn,

Thunder rumbles, the fires burn-

And Finrod fell before the throne.