M.J. Downing. “I see more of these cells, like ours, Hilds,” Stapa said, staring through the grated window that looked onto Bold Hurin’s courtyard. “All that I can see have the bar down on the door like ours does. He might have lots of prisoners, maybe even more hobbits.” Hilds stared at the... Continue Reading →
Tolkien Fan Fiction by M.J. Downing. “Heroism in Tharbad.” M.J. Downing. Part 1. “There. We’ve reached the entrance to Ketil’s halls,” Hilds said, pointing to a dark archway at the end of a valley in the foothills of the Blue Mountains. The path that ran on before them went through a deep defile. It... Continue Reading →
“Lights, Like Marfa” By M. J. Downing “You know, lights, like in Marfa,” the taller said, sitting at the bar to my far left. The shorter fellow nearer me returned his gaze, blinking and shaking his head ’no.’ The taller guy might have been sixty, might have been thirty. I had a hard time pegging his... Continue Reading →
M.J. Downing. Part One. Of all the heroic line of the Took family, little has been said of Old Gerontius’ son Hildifons. Among Gerontius’ heirs, it is said that Hildifons, known simply as Dark Hilds by his family and few friends, was the closest in stature, manner, and mood to Bandobras, “the Bullroarer.” Hilds grew... Continue Reading →
M.J. Downing Plain hobbit-sense, really, freed daily life in the Shire and its environs, especially in Bilbo’s day, from the threat of evils that had plagued Eriador for many centuries. Working a craft or service, farming the land, brewing ale and such simple tasks were the occupations of this little people, time out of mind. ... Continue Reading →
“Tramping in The Shire.” M.J. Downing. Bilbo looked up at the high clouds, blown over the Shire from the West, seeing things that Frodo could not. “Where do the years go, Frodo, when they leave us? I’m sure that they’re out there somewhere, aren’t they? I remember them all, those days when I lived,... Continue Reading →
M.J. Downing 22 November, 1890. Our actions of 1888 have been largely detailed in The Case of the UnDead Client, in addition to numerous other cases, which I chronicled as Holmes’s “Boswell.” However, Client, like many of my penned efforts, is just one of many that are to remain unpublished, for a variety of... Continue Reading →
“The Last Old Man: A Christmas Story” M.J. Downing “The Oxen” Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock."Now they are all on their knees,"An elder said as we sat in a flockBy the embers in hearthside ease. We pictured the meek mild creatures whereThey dwelt in their strawy pen, Nor did it occur to one of... Continue Reading →
M.J. Downing Addy Stuart didn’t like Christmas any more than she liked missing a day of school. Her Dad, though, really needed her help filling out job applications, and she really wanted him to get the maintenance job at the mall. However, missing a day of school meant missing out on end of the semester... Continue Reading →
By M.J. Downing Denny Crandell, my classmate Robbie’s odd fraternal twin, showed up at my door on Duncan Avenue after six o’clock one evening just before Halloween, 1968. My friend Tim Rogers and I had been listening to WAKY on my transistor radio and reading comics in my room when the doorbell rang, and Dad, who’s... Continue Reading →
