Writing Samples

Scriptwriting

This film never made it out of pre-production due to external issues. The script shared here is eternally a draft.

Tolkien

Acorns & Oak Trees Derivative Project

Elurín's view of the burning night sky blurred. Why wasn't Eluréd here? Why wasn't his mother here? Why wasn't his father here?

His head was yanked back by a handful of tangled braids. Never tied, one fell loose. Through tears, he couldn't make out which of his captors loomed over him. A weak hiccup tore up through his throat.

"Oh, young prince," the soldier crooned, "do not be afraid at your end. I give you freedom."

A blade kissed his throat, cold as ice, cold as death. Elurín trembled, mind blank with fear. He could not struggle. He could not scream. He was going to blink out of existence, silent and senseless.

>---|-

The soldiers left him on the ground.

They didn't provide company -- any company -- in his final moments, didn't speed along a slow process.

The sun was rising. Or had fire reached across the forest to lick at his eyelashes? No, the sun was rising.

The sun was rising. The sun was rising.

The sun was rising.

Pulling in deep breaths that cut harsh like ice shards, Thranduil removed his gloves. One breath, one finger; meticulous, grounded.

Tucking the gloves inside his bag, he exchanged them for a waterskin.

"I brought you some wine, melleth. I know the birds drink it, but it is hard not to share it with you."

He poured wine from the waterskin into two wooden cups and set one on the highest stone of her cairn. A ritual. Burning a track down his frozen face, a tear fell from his chin to melt a tiny concave in the snow.

"I hope you are content in Valinor." Thranduil drank from his cup; the wine was spiced, settling warm in his stomach. "I struggle to be."

He let out a breath, watching the cloud dissipate in front of his face. His breath was hot thanks to the wine; red sunlight caught it, so that it seemed to be aflame.

Curious as a cat, Alphes peered at everything, young light gliding over her form as she moved about. Her mere presence brightened the space, warmed the sun. Tauriel watched her from the doorway.

"This house looks so different with you here."

Diverting her attention from an obscure carved figurine sitting on the mantle, Alphes glanced her way. Blue eyes caught a ribbon of light, melting like silver.

"In a good way or bad way?"

"I'm not sure yet."

Alphes hummed and toyed with a different figurine of a posing deer. "It's nice. This is where you grew up?"

Tauriel shifted her weight. "Yes."

"Before you lost them."

"...Yes."

"And now you're back, hiding here."

Tauriel did not give an answer. "Why did you come?"

"Everything is different now," Tone softening, Alphes pulled in a shuddering breath. "I-- so much has changed, I thought at least I would have you. I thought I'd at least try."

She turned away, clutched her arms. Short sleeves lifted with the stretch of her embroidered blouse, revealing the edge of a pale ridged scar.

Disturbed by memories, Tauriel fought with stubborn words. "I am here, aren't I?"

"If you say so."

"I do."

Baldur’s Gate 3

Tav Character Exploration

Niko gasped, air expelling from her lungs as the wolf slammed into her.

It was a miracle (a curse) Shadowheart heard anything over the thundering roar of her heartbeat in her ears, but Niko's desperate cries were piercing.

Nothing, nothing in the world could have drowned them out. She'd be hearing them echo around her head forever.

Heavy paws pressing down on her chest, Niko's whimpers competed with the wolf's snarling.

Her face twisted in terror and panic, one straining arm pushing against its chest, staving off snapping jaws by mere inches. Hot breath and slobber assailed her face, wide eyes glistening with tears.

Her other hand was folded beneath her torso, flexing as she writhed fruitlessly.

Then it swung out to her side.

Shadowheart saw the flash of metal before she heard the yelp or saw the blood.

Her fingers twitched with the urge to move, but proved too numb to respond. Her heart leapt into her throat instead, fragile hope clawing to escape.

Seeking to kill, to kill, to taste blood, the wolf didn't let up.

Niko struck again, crying out, fighting its attempts to close its jaws around her neck.

Again. Again. Again. Again--

The helmet -- an old Waterdhavian military style -- implied plans to play pretend. Yet, stroking its bolted visor, Niko crawled back into her bed and sat against the mahogany headboard. She placed the candle on a copper dish bolted to the wall. Something in her young eyes steeled. She tugged the helmet down over her curls.

It was a loose fit, sitting a little lopsided, but seemed to suit her intention. Raising the blanket to her chin, she settled down against the pillows and laid still.

Gale smiled and shook his head. ''Dreaming big dreams, huh?''

Manifestation was a powerful thing, his oneiromancer friend promised. Niko had certainly managed to fulfill her goal of becoming a warrior, now a formidable paladin in the waking world. Had she made a habit of this as a child?

First: a great boom, like the heavens themselves were splitting open.

A beat: a flash, missed in a blink, a shutter closing on the world.

Half a breath later: an ear-splitting crack and a shower of sparks.

Gale knew it was a dream. He still flinched.

Niko, the dreamer, cried out and pulled the blanket over her face, over her helmet. Hells, she was just a child. Just a young, scared child fresh off a horrifying story about a man killed by lightning.

Shallow gasp escaping him, Astarion slipped behind a tall stack of firewood instead of following. Something in the back of his mind called out in concern for Niko -- of course she was fine, it was ridiculous to worry, this was the past, for crying out loud, a vision of things already done--

Very slowly, he poked his head out from behind his shield.

The griffon was lowering its head, turning a little to fix one intense auburn eye on the girl. Heart hammering in his chest, Astarion waited for the lunge toward her vulnerable neck. He knew intimately what drive dominated the minds of predators.

That beak held so much power, and she was right there, so open, so unassuming.

But when Niko's fingers carded into the feathers by its head in the same rhythm she used with Scratch, it let her, and did not lunge. In fact, a low rumble sounded from its chest, and it closed its eyes. …Could griffons purr?

''It's been a while, hasn't it, Zenith?'' Niko murmured, foolishly leaning in. ''I'm sorry about Grandpa.''

The griffon blinked at her. A shine in its eyes said it understood what that meant, and felt the sadness in her voice.