New Challenge: Potluck Bingo
Sit down to a delicious selection of prompts served on bingo boards, created by the SWG community.
Disclaimer: This is only a fanfic derived from the respectable original work of Professor JRRTolkien. The Silmarillion belongs to the Tolkiens.
My vision is faltering. The fire that had ever spurred me on is now too hot for my weakened flesh, and soon I shall perish in flames. Still, the voices of my sons hold me awhile. I hear Russandol, who pled for your house at our last glance toward Araman, and I think of you.
I recall the first time among many you came to my forge, when I clasped the newly wrought jewel around your neck. Green it is, a token of hope, burning with a gentle fire. And though the shadow of the Broidress lay on me heavily even at that time, it faded under the starry light in your eyes. Since then we doubted often the path we trod, but went on anyway, for what else should a Quendi follow, except for the starlight and the fire kindly kindled before our coming? No, doubt and fear would not be our downfall, but pride was.
Possessing the twin lights, I thought myself unsullied by darkness, but you saw it and contended against it by dissuading the people from my ill-informed lead. It was our folly, and lies came in so many guises that in the end, we allowed pride to overcome what had been between us. The Elessar I took back, as well as the very fire set in the core. You turned cold, and I was left to be consumed by it. In this matter our children are wiser, though bloodstained they both have become after the kinslaying, for be it light or darkness, virtue or sin, it is meant to be shared.
When I set fire to the ships, I thought to make you turn back in humiliation to Aman, which has become a shadow-land with neither light nor warmth, but now I foresee your coming. Ice will forge you instead of fire, steeling your character and adding to your wisdom. When you die – for it is the doom I have brought upon all of us– it will be in effulgence unmatched by my hasty end. Yet even so, the green lost to the ever-cold cannot be compensated, and new life will not come out of ice alone.
My time is running out. Soon, I, not you, will become the first to return to our foster-land in bitter pain, but my people shall continue to defy the darkness. You will not know my belated regret, but the Elessar shall pass down to my eldest, and then to your son. The feud between our houses will be healed by their union; love renewed; hope and new life brought back to all.
And till you come, I shall wait with extended arms.