A Sense of History: Straight Road
The next in a series of articles about ships passing to and from the West, Simon uses "The Fall of Númenor" to attempt to arrive at Tolkien's reading of the exordium to "Beowulf."
In response to the March 10 entry at the B2MeM 2011 challenge. Start a story or poem with Charles Dickens' famous opening line from A Tale of Two Cities: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
It was the best of times. Makalaurë woke up with a song thrumming all the way through his veins. He hummed it in rhythm with the passing heartbeats of valinorean life. Sometimes, during the mingling of the lights, he sang it out loud, and if his brothers joined him for an impromptu concert and Nelyo took the harp and Curvo the wooden flute while Moryo watched silently, well, then, that was good, that was perfect. Still, the thing about concepts such as 'the best' is that by their own definition what follows must necessarily be worse. Makalaurë should have been wise enough to realize as much, but 'the best' tends to blind to any and all traces of darkness – or maybe that was the light of the Trees.
It was the best of times. Makalaurë's parents stumbled together for breakfast, smiling and bright-eyed, and Ambarussa groaned a worn-out "Oh, for Eru's sake, not again – mother, you're old!" in embarrassed twin voices. Come night best took a turn for worse, and Nerdanel retired with a frown while her husband hammered away in his forge.
Makalaurë's wife was the best, but the growing unrest amongst the Noldor had driven her back to her parents, and that was the worst, as was seeing his brothers in the same situation. Nelyo smiled, and Findékano smiled back, and that was the best, but then Findékano's father plotted against Nelyo's, and that, Makalaurë reflected as the malicious rumour reached him, was the worst. Cousin Irissë rarely visited anymore, and while it left Turko free to his best pursuits through wild forests, that, too, was the worst.
It was the best of times, and Makalaurë was happy. It was the worst of times, and happiness was but a dimming illusion.
Or maybe it was simply the light of the Trees.