"And it happened that when Arathorn and Gilraen had been married only one year, Arador was taken by hill-trolls in the Coldfells..." "[T]he Wise then knew that the Enemy was seeking to discover the Heir of Isildur, if any remained upon earth."
See footnote #12 at this page for context. Narwen Almiriel: Let’s see…Could I have a drabble about either a). Celeborn and Galadriel being reunited in Aman, or b). Finwë and either one of his wives (or both, even…) or c). Melian and Elwë. Please? Pretty please? Silver and Gold - Elena Tiriel (drabble pair) He comes. To some he was The Wise; the appellation amused him. To those confronting the fell hand of the argent-crowned warrior lord, he was executioner. To our daughter, he was her healer of hurts, silver-tongued story-singer, patient teacher, proud protector. To me? He was my anchor in Endor, my roots, my nourishment. Upon me alone he bestowed his ofttimes tempestuous, ofttimes tender, ever-impassioned love. Our endless separation has tattered my soul. But now, as his white ship approaches quayside, I savor the first faint brushes of his mind on mine. I clasp my gold-banded hand to hide my trembling. ~~~ She awaits. She stands in solitude amidst the throng, a pillar of white-gowned elegance bewreathed in a rippling aureole, regal in her dignity. Disembarking, I am drawn to face her. Others see the glacial magnificence of towering Taniquetil; but I alone glimpse Orodruin's perilous fires concealed beneath -- and grasp the profound cost of masking such passions behind her public guise of serenity. Her eyes betray her turbulence to me: wrath, sorrow, anticipation... despair? Did you fear I would not come, my love? I raise my gold-banded fingertip to her grave and beautiful face, then caress away the single scalding tear.
"...there is no record of the day when at last [Celeborn] sought the Grey Havens, and with him went the last living memory of the Elder Days in Middle-earth." The Fellowship of the Ring, LoTR Prologue, Note on the Shire Records Erin (Sangfroid101): Something involving the Teleri- anything. It can be a teleri reference by some LOTR characters, or a drabble at sea, wherever, whenever. I'm not picky. I just like the teleri. :-) Come Home - Meril (drabble and three-tenths: 130) Another oar-stroke, driven by weary and sun-burnt arms. Another sunrise, filtered through the mists, and illuminating the water in palest gold. Another day, spent trying to reach what seems unreachable. “Get you moving!” I heard a far-off shout, and looked up hopefully. Another illusion? Endless hours on this tiny craft, trapped by haze and eternally eddying tides, can deceive the senses. “We have a homecomer!” Another call! And no fantasy: a ship, prowed with a swan’s head, glided towards me. A woman, face framed by silver braids entwined with white feathers, and with a smile as wide as the seas, appeared at the rail and shouted something. “Are you…? Is this…?” My voice is hoarse from salt spray. “You are home, cousin,” she laughed, throwing down the rope ladder. “Come.” The Noble Task - Meril I leap lightly onto the railing, breathing deep as the salt-tanged breeze sweeps my face. Home; this is truly home. More of my life has been spent on water than on dry land. One of Uinen’s maidens, with flowing seawater hair, my father teased me as a child. It has served me well: a first-rate captain, and holder of my own ship. And no mere fishing vessel. The finest ship for the finest task, Lord Olue told me. “Captain! The Culúrien is gaining on us!” A fierce grin. “Let’s not have a crew of Noldor beating us! To the sails!” Elena Tiriel: I'd like a drabble about one or more male character(s) being heroic (however you wish to define that term -- it's not limited to deeds in battle...). My favorite races are Elves (not Kinslayers) and Rohirrim... but Faramir will do in a pinch. Or even Gimli. (Especially if he's with Legolas...) And I *love* it when someone picks out an obscure corner of canon to write about... but that's not a requirement, just icing on the (many-candled) birthday cake... Legacy of the Blessed—Dwimordene "And the Dunlendings?" Éowyn inquires. The king her brother sighs. Other matters of the realm talked out alone between them, she comes to the troublesome last. "All tales remember how they never ceased to war with us." "We've hostages still from Helm's Deep," Éowyn reminds him. "For a time; then it's war again." "What think you, Éomer?" "I think," the king says slowly, "'tis time we remembered ourselves of Cirion and Éorl—how we once were strangers here." Eowyn considers. Finally: "The court shall howl." "So be it. If they love peace, as they say, then let them live it!" Forsaken Kin - Meril The wastes of Araman, icy slopes glittering in our torchlight, are hushed as we forge back. I glance at my wife, breath creating a chilly cloud before her face. Silver-grey braids of hair are bound tightly about her head, and her eyes are grim and distant. Kin for kin. An implacable threat. Blood for blood. She would have gone after them, with oath of revenge unbreakable. I pull the cloak tighter, and force my feet to move faster across the jagged ice. Vengeance will do no good, love. I will not have blood on your hands. Not like my brothers.
But in that hour Finarfin forsook the march, and turned back, being filled with grief… ~The Silmarillion (Of the Flight of the Noldor)Faithful companion—Tanaqui Belthronding’s reassuring voice whispers in his ear as, one by one, he slays the wolf-sentinels. Long has it sung for him, companion through many battles. Its dark limbs are crafted from yew: hardiest of woods yet one which bends to the will of friendly hands, to guard and keep them safe. Does he suspect, as the last warg falls, that he will never hear his bow’s sweet note again? Why should he think it? He has faced many perils ere this, though none so great. He offers a quick, customary caress of thanks, before he steals into the orc camp. Brothers-in-arms—Tanaqui As in birth, so in death: they lie together. As in life, so in death: they guard our border. Water washes the walls of their last home; and all rivers must flow to the sea. None can make the current run uphill. Yet a chance-dropped pebble may change the course of a stream forever. Oh happy hour that brought their forefathers to our aid! We gave land to a people who lacked it. They gave sons to a land that had need of men. We sing of their valour at the river crossing in two tongues, yet with one heart. Nothing to fear but fear itself—Tanaqui The Warden’s news grieves him, but he doubts the course his feelings urge on him. He suspects now the Lady’s favour lies elsewhere, though there have been moments that gave him hope it was otherwise. Will he add to her sorrow if he brings news he suffers as she does: offering a gift to one who does not wish to receive it? Or simply increase his own burden, no longer able to guard against past hurts with scarce-acknowledged dreams for the future? Faint heart never won fair lady. His brother’s laughter echoes in his ears. He rises from his desk. Vistula the Dunedain: My birthday (the BIG 40) is March 20th and I would LOVE drabbles that have YOUR favorite character somehow interacting with MY favorite character. For those few of you who haven't already guessed who THAT may be, the answer is, of course, Sam. Anytime, any place, any situation is great! (And I don't mind slash either, if you are so inclined.) The End of the Road—Dwimordene (quadruple drabble—slightly too large for me to post the words here) Strength to Save - Meril (double drabble) Sam had spent a week wandering the city of Tirion, among magnificent streets and houses, blushing at how elven-folk honored him at every turn. On the last afternoon, he lost his way in a web of narrow alleys, and finally stumbled into a statue-filled courtyard. “Master Hobbit?” He looked about wildly, and saw an elven-woman emerge from an open door. Her face was stern and angular: she had little of the beauty of the silver-haired Lady of Tirion. But there was something so striking, so arresting about her starkness that he found himself speaking. “My lady, I never meant to come here, please forgive me,” he stammered. “Should’ve stayed to the main street—” “You are Frodo’s companion,” she interrupted, studying him. “He spoke of you often, before you came. He says you saved him from a terrible fate.” Caught off guard, he mumbled, “If I’d been stronger, I could’ve saved him for the Shire.” She smiled, and her expression was all at once despair and a thousand reborn hopes. A vague thought took shape. That’s like my smile. Who couldn’t she save? “Let me tell you of a King’s son, and the smith’s daughter who loved him…” A pert servant—Tanaqui The Halfling speaks boldly, yet there is no impertinence. Only the love for his master, that draws him along this dreadful road. Even in our short hours together, I have seen many small proofs of how he seeks to ease Frodo’s burden, keep him safe. I think the men of Gondor do not treat their lords so. Which of them would make such sacrifice for me? I envy Frodo this servant – nay, friend! – who offers fierce affection and would lay down his life for him. I smile in answer. “Master Samwise. The praise of the praiseworthy is above all rewards.” Tárion Anaróre: I would reeeeeeeeeeeally love something with the sons of Feanor. Especially the younger ones, if you're up to it! I'd also take anything with Elladan & Elrohir if you don't want to do kinslayers (I love them to death). (Just no slash please!) Meril (Allie): I'm incredibly indecisive. I want (a) a happy moment between Feanor and Nerdanel, or (b) anything Houses of Healing, or (c) Galadriel and Celeborn anywhere. If you incorporate all of those (definitely not required!), I'll drop dead from shock. Spirit of Fire—Dwimordene Where he sought hands to do his will, she sought hearts to know them. Hence at the forge (so halved by absences, Séno couldn't riddle it whole) she works the patient flame anew. Bellows heave, metal flows—liquid lead, burning in the belly, his rages that she couldn't quench. Etch carefully, swallow acid resentment—nevermind the pain. One day she'll vomit wisdom; she's but to sicken of love—or not, it doesn't matter. That's the consubstantial catch that forging teaches:
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.