1. Art And Beauty
Art And Beauty
I stare with wistful eyes as the artists of the city unveil their latest grand work. I think that it shall never cease to amaze me what wonders can occur in the mind of an artist, such as this latest statue, and it shall never cease to dismay me that I am no artist.
Sliding out of the crowd with a distressed sigh, I wander away, but the pain grows no less. I am a warrior; things of beauty are not within my grasp, and never shall be. The splendour of Gondolin surrounds me, mocks my inadequacy, and I walk.
Finding myself at the walls of the city, I climb, and stare out. It comes as no surprise when I am joined by another, who also leans against the wall; he often senses my moods, as I sense his. We stand in silence, the need to talk long ago removed by years of companionship; against that, what words are needed?
He is first to break the silence, but what he says is not what I expect at all.
"Why do you torment yourself over such ridiculous things?" His tone is mild but when I turn, filled with righteous annoyance, I see that his eyes are twinkling with mischief. Even knowing that he is only teasing, I cannot help but rise to the bait.
"It is not ridiculous! Not to me, anyway. To make something so striking and to know that you made it…" I shake my head, lost for words. A low chuckle shakes me out of my brief reverie.
"You are an artist! You, too, create things of beauty; you simply use a different canvas to create a different kind." He goes quiet for a moment, and then blushes before saying, "And one as beautiful as you should not worry about creating beauty."
I silently curse my pale skin as I feel the heat creep up my cheeks, turning them a vibrant red. How is it that after all these years he can still make me blush? It is beyond belief, but he can do it every time.
"It is not the same," I mumble, looking at the floor. He raises my chin with a hand until I am looking into his face. He has become serious again.
"I am speaking truly, 'Thel. The songs that you write; they are a kind of art. The music you write – each piece is a piece of art. It is full of all the beauty that the other artists put into their paintings, or their statues."
He folds me into his arms, uncaring of who can see, and kisses me soundly. When he releases me, I take a moment to catch my breath and say quietly but sincerely, "Thank you, 'Fin."
He blushes again, uncomfortable with praise, and then grins wickedly. "Besides, there are other ways to create things of loveliness – many of which we know! But I think we need the extra practice."
He turns to face the stairs, and I follow as he walks, trying to control my blush before we meet anybody. We stop at the stairs and I scold him;
"You are incorrigible, you know?"
He winks at me, and replies, "Let us go and create some beauty, eh, 'Thel?"
I cannot help but laugh and reply; "You are a dirty old goat, 'Fin, and with terrible pickup lines to boot!" I lean forward and kiss away the shock on his face, and, wrapping my arms around him, I lead him away. I have found my art and beauty.
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.