2. The Architect
The Noldor are eager to build a city for us, equal in grandeur to Tirion. They are my friends, and so I accept. It would be ungrateful of me to renew my long friendship with Finwë by insulting the talents of his people. But I have no qualm with our frail huts by the sea—better to hear the songs of the waves playing upon the crystal shores. Stone muffles, subdues. Isolates.
Finwë brings his most skilled architect to Eldamar. He leads me eagerly to meet him. The boy is young and carries himself as though his spine was poured from steel. His eyes are the same deadly silver found at the base of blue flames. He might be a statue, such is his beauty.
They would become steel and stone if given the choice, I think, these Noldor.
"King Olwë," says Finwë, with a quiver of pride in his voice, "I bring you my son Fëanor."
Author's Notes: This drabble was--again--inspired by Marta's birthday request.
The premise for this drabble arise in the chapter "Of the Flight of the Noldor" in The Silmarillion. As Fëanor barters with Olwë for the Telerin ships, he reminds Olwë of how the Noldor once helped the Teleri in their time of need: "...[Y]ou were glad indeed to receive our aid when you came at last to these shores, faint-hearted loiterers, and wellnigh emptyhanded. In huts on the beaches would you be dwelling still, had not the Noldor carved out your haven and toiled upon your walls" (page 94, the Ballantine paperback version).
The irony, of course: Fëanor led the Kinslaying against Olwë's people. It seems their city by the sea had come with a handsome price.
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