Author has written 9 stories for Lord of the Rings.
Anoriath, Lady Ranger of The Burping Troll -
AKA: SilliMarilli - just about everywhere else on the web
A word on muses.
Ah.. the muse. Fair-voiced Calliope to woo the poet. Lovely Erato with her crown of rose. Pleasant Euterpe with her fingers upon the lyre. Tragic Melpomene with her songs of joy. Daughters of gods and mothers of slain heroes.
I must admit, my muse is made of more mortal stuff.
Her appearance is, shall we say, less than Greek.
Hair the color of the common mouse, most often arrayed in huge, plastic rollers. You know the type with the pink pushpins that leave dents in your scalp? The ones your mother used to use? Those.
Her figure? Uhm, hard to say. I don't think I've seen her wear anything other than a rather battered silky, pink, quilted housecoat, the kind that obscures all curves. Perhaps that is best.
Her habits do not recommend her, either, nor do her tastes. She prefers menthols and has a bad habit of leaving lit cigarettes in ashtrays, if she is feeling chipper, or anything else, when she is less than pleasant.
Her mood is most often sullen and she brings little joy. She may go hours, days, weeks without speaking. She turns a deaf ear to my pleas and chain-smokes silently, kicking her fuzzy-slippered foot as she watches reruns of Jerry Springer into the early hours.
It is hardly a marriage of convenience, as she does not cook. Or clean. Or produce anything that could be considered of any use. Indeed, she is free with my paycheck in ways that are so shocking that good sense tells me I should throw her clothes out onto the porch and lock the door.
Yet, I cannot bear to part with her. She is mine. And those moments that she deigns to give me a small glimpse into my own soul's debt to the human race and the wonder of the stars are more precious than diamonds, though they be as rare.
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