The Ten-Drabble Challenge

Ten Songs, Ten Drabbles

So, the basics of this challenge are:

1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.

2. Turn your music player on and turn it on random/shuffle.

3. Write a drabblet/ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterward! No matter how whacked out your drabble is.

4. Do ten of these, then post them.

NOTE: "Drabble" is used in the sense of a short story, not an actual 100-words strictly or anything like that.

Author's note: I got this challenge from a writer friend of mine, and after failing miserably at trying to write an update for Running for My Life, I'd decided I'd try my hand at this.

KEY:

#. Title (Author) – Length: m:s

Hero (Skillet) – Length: 3:06

This was supposed to have been easy. They were supposed to show up, arrest the outlaws, and go home. But somehow, none of that seemed to matter now.

Will was pressed up against a wall, coughing from the smoke and flames, a hard cold knife against his throat. The brigand standing before him didn't seem to pay any heed to the smoke that suffocated the air out of the small hideaway, but Will's eyes streamed with tears from the irritation.

The young apprentice squeezed his eyes shut against the blackness, and tried to think of what to do. His weapons had been lost a while ago – in fact, it was his own saxe knife that was against his throat.

Come on, Halt. Will thought desperately. Help me! He knew his was bleeding from multiple wounds. He couldn't see, could move, could do anything. Halt would have to save him.

"Don't try and be a hero," Halt's words echoed in his mind.

"I didn't." Will insisted to no one. "I didn't."

A/N: Well that made ABSOLUTELY no sense. I'm embarrassed to post it, it makes so little sense. But that's the fun of these things, no?

2. The Righteous (Epic Score) Length: 1:40

It was disgusting. Horace couldn't believe that anyone could do what Tennyson had done. How could anyone be so heartless? So careless with human lives?

As he looked down at the scorched corpses buried beneath the rubble, Horace knew that each one of them had a name, once, with a family and friends who loved them. No more. They were just burnt skin and bones.

With a determined glint, Horace fixed his face in determined steel and looked at the horizon. He would avenge these helpless victims. Tennyson was not righteous.

A/N: GAH! It doesn't make any sense, either! Now you all get to see what my writing looks like when I don't have hours to tweak it! Ewww… Bleh, I don't like it. Anyway… Moving on.

3. Lion (Rebecca St. James) - Length: 3:49

Will couldn't bring himself to move to look around, but he could hear it. It was a heavy breathing, like one that he'd never heard before. It was hungry. It was strong. It was drawing nearer.

Lion, The word echoed in his mind. So this was how it would end, then. At the teeth and claws of an alien creature, a cat of power that he'd never seen. His body, mangled and eaten beyond any hope of a proper burial.

I wish I'd gotten to say goodbye, Will thought to himself. I'm sorry, Halt. Maybe he'll find my oakleaf. Will told himself. Maybe at least he'll know that I died in relative peace – eaten in my sleep. It was his last conscious thought before he slept.

Unbeknownst to the ranger, Arrow was already charging when he lost consciousness. By the time the horse's carcass was stripped clean, the lioness had already moved on, it's hungry stomach filled for the time being.

A/N: MORE NONESENSE! This is driving me insane. I'm not sure if I like this.

4. The One I'm Waiting For (ReliantK) – Length: 3:02

Cassandra glanced at him sidelong. The picture of chivalry, the utter personification of dignity, Horace stood straight at attention at her side. Since becoming her champion, Horace had grown even more handsome and noble than he had been before. She considered his nobility as she looked at him, and sighed in admiration.

He fidgeted, and the picture was ruined.

Inside, Cassandra giggled. She wouldn't change a single thing about Horace even if she had the choice. She turned back to her plate of birthday-feast food, and nibbled at the toast. Horace, she'd decided, was a very fine knight, a finer man, and the finest friend she'd ever known. And now, glancing at him, trying to imagine a crown perched on his head, Cassandra decided that he just might be just the one that she'd been waiting for all this time.

5. The Fight Begins (Tom Salta) – Length: 1:13

They'd come out of nowhere. With that unearthly howling and those horrid eyes, the Kalkara had descended upon the Gorlan ruins without warning.

Halt had hung low at first, but they'd spotted him somehow. Sweat dripped form his brow. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up. This may well be his final battle.

He thought first of Will, his young apprentice. And then of Pauline. And of friends.

Then, he saw the torches.

His hope was rekindled.

6. You Can Always Come Home (Jason Castro) – Length: 3:20

Will was soaked. Wet, tired, and weary of the road, he trudged up back the dirt path with squish-squashing sound. Tug hung his normally perky ears, and after helping the horse settled into the stable, Will sighed against his soggy cloak. His shoulders slumped, he dumped his boots by the door.

It had been a long, hard day. There were mounds of work to attend to still, and on top of it all, he'd caught the sniffles. Oh, what a day.

He entered the cabin and dropped his prized weapons with a 'thunk' and shuffled into the living room.

And up from the couch, the last person he'd ever expected to see looked up.

"What on earth happened to you, Will?" Halt asked him calmly.

Will couldn't speak, but instead just stared. What was Halt doing here?

Halt just shook his head. "Welcome home, Will."

The smallest of smiles touched Will's mouth.

A/N: I am so sick of this nonsensical writing. I'll be surprised if anyone actually enjoys this!

7. Worth It All (FFH) – Length: 4:29

Two thousand, one hundred, ninety-one days.

Four bows.

Seven hundred, forty-eight arrows.

Seven cloaks.

Ten thousand, five hundred, sixteen (and a half) questions.

Nine hundred and twenty useful questions.

Eight-hundred pounds of coffee grinds.

Twenty-two infirmary visits.

Sixty-four bandages.

Six hundred gold pieces for food.

Another two hundred for clothes.

Oh, and don't forget fifty for that silly lute.

Seven barrels of apples.

Sixty-seven thousand, eight hundred and ninety buckets of water.

Fourty-six trips to the Redmont Diplomatic Service. For no reason at all.

Three haircuts.

Two knives.

One apprentice.

The silver oakleaf was lowered over Will's head with some ceremonious care, and the crowd cheered at him. Halt stood away in the back, watching as the sum of the past six years came to a close. Somehow, despite all the costs of having an apprentice, it had been worth it all.

8. He's My Son (Mark Schultz) – Length: 5:39

Halt buried his face in his hands, trying to ignore the hot tears that poured down his cheeks

Lying on the bed, Will was unconscious and unresponsive. His face was scraped raw and red, his head twisted off to one side at an odd angle. The breaths that racked his frame were quick, short, and entirely too shallow. The white sheet that covered Will's torso saved any passer-by from the sight of the injury that sapped the lifeblood from Will's features.

There had been so much blood. Halt couldn't see anything else but that blood, the blood and mangled flesh. He'd seen such gore dozens of times before, but this time it was different. This time, he'd known him. He'd seen that boy, body rocking with laughter, collapsing in exhaustion, drifting through the trees as if he was born for it. The same body, now mangled and bleeding. Now, it was a white ghost of what it was supposed to be. That lifeless face was not Will.

Pauline placed a hand on Halt's shoulder. He turned to her, and something broke inside of him. He couldn't stop weeping if he wanted to. Pauline let him, and sat down next to him before bringing him into a rare hug.

He didn't resist. He simply shook his head against her slender shoulder, tears streaming.

"He's my son," He told her through the tears. "He's my son."

9. Surrender to Hope (Immediate) – Length: 4:52

Halt glanced around at the figures surrounding him. Every one of them were strangers to him, except the one who'd found him. Shouldering his pack, Halt advanced across the courtyard slowly, glancing up at the tall towers spiraling above him. Several guards passed him, giving him strange glances, and some asked him questions. Thankfully, the girl leading him answered quickly. He was grateful. He didn't want his Hibernian accent to be heard in this strange country. He wasn't sure how Araluens felt about their neighbors across the west sea.

"We're almost there," She told him. He tried to recall her name. Ah, yes, Pauline. She was young, about his age – seventeen. Suddenly, they were in a huge room. An older man, who was apparently Pauline's mentor, spoke with her in quick voices. Then, he was following them into an even larger room. A throng of guards came towards them, and a young man – barely even twelve, emerged from amidst them. Dressed in fine clothes, he was obviously royalty. Halt shrunk inwardly.

"You're Prince Halt, then?" The young tween asked kindly, his green gaze emitting a strange amount of wisdom for one so young.

Halt looked to Pauline, but she nodded for him to answer.

"I am." Halt said, his voice dripping with an uncomfortably thick accent.

The young man smiled at him, and extended a still-growing hand.

"I'm Prince Duncan." He said. Noticing Halt's discomfort, he smiled wider. "Don't worry, Halt. You don't have to worry about your brother and all that here – you're safe." He drew his hand away from Halt's, and nodded positively. "Welcome to Araluen."

In that moment, for the first time in years, Halt felt an inkling of something that almost – almost – made him want to smile.

It was hope.

10. The Change (Stephan Curtis Chapman) – Length: 3:46

By the time Duncan had heard, the entire royal family was ecstatic. By the time the whole castle had heard, the amount of congratulations was deafening. And by the time the whole country had heard, well, it was an excuse for a nation-wide celebration

Cassandra had been beaming for days. Duncan had actually thought she might be a bit challenged by the change, but she seemed to take it gladly in stride.

Horace had been bombarded with all kinds of comments and questions and congratulations to the point of closing himself in his quarters to avoid the sudden attention.

However, after talking with the man, Duncan knew that Horace was probably the most exited man out of everyone in the entire country.

The king frowned thoughtfully as he picked up yet another gift box addressed to Cassandra and Horace. He opened it, and pulled out the contents with a smile. He left the small white baby slippers off to one side, to give Cassie later.

As he regarded the two small shoes, Duncan decided that for however drastic this new change in his life was, it was definitely a good kind of change.

"Hmm…" He spoke softly to himself. "'Grandfather.'" He tested the word.

He smiled.

Author's note: THE INSANE NONESENSE COMES TO AN END! I promise I did not edit any of these, beyond any faulty punctuation or formatting that escaped me. All of the words are original. (and totally nonsensical)

I must be crazy for posting this garbage.

Somehow, enjoy. Let me know which one you thought made least sense via Reading and Reviewing.