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You snagged me I am reading it again. I remember every word almost. Love Nerdanel and Feanor fighting. You nailed it. Carnistir is such a little horror and so smart and sweet--he really does remind me of my autistic granddaughter. Baby Fingon has some of food disorder symptoms--I keep feeling like he ought to have outgrown it by now. I may read BF this part and see if he can relate.

It's interesting ... so many people have mentioned the idea that Carnistir might be autistic (you were the first!), and that was in no way on my mind at the time. But I find myself liking the idea, in retrospect, thanks to a little cousin and the children/grandchildren of so many friends who have been diagnosed on the autism spectrum.

Writing the "feeding Carnistir" scenes was always such fun. Probably why there are so many of them! :D

Congratulations, Dawn! I'm so happy you're posting AMC here! Such an enjoyable story!

Besides introducing the idea of baby-mindreader-Carnistir with eating disorders, the way you show  Maedhros also marks a before and after in how he is viewed - from the violent madman of older stories to tragic heroe/frustrated intellectual/budding politician. And always soooo handsome!

(*starts rereading*)

Thank you, Angelica! It's an exciting point for me too, as I can finally put this story to bed after, what? Seven years, I think? Eep! To say nothing of the fact that putting it up here was long overdue. :)

The interpretation that the Feanorians were merely crazy ("fey") was one that particularly irked me before writing this, perhaps because the ink was still drying on my psych degree, and I still hadn't ruled out a PhD in clinical psych. My guiding principle for writing characters is that each must sleep at night, so even the most heinous actions are pardonable in the mind of he who commits them, provided he doesn't see the wrongness of/experience guilt from his actions. The human mind goes through all sorts of acrobatics to restore one's sense of rightness after doing something wrong. That's what guided all of the characterizations in this story (and still does!) It still amazes me in a totally delighful way that that spoke to so many people. :)

A belated comment to tell you how glad I am that you are (at long last) posting Another Man's Cage here.  To reiterate, it was your novel that, when I read it over the Christmas and New Year's holidays in 2006 (almost five years ago!) completed my reactivation of my interest in Tolkien, and furthermore, prompted me to try my own hand at fan fiction.

I don't think that the importance of Another Man's Cage can be overstated.  This is a defining work in Tolkien fan fiction, one that portrays Fëanor and his family in a humanistic way.   And although you may be critical of what you wrote seven years ago (I know we are all criticial of our earliest works, but hey, that's the beauty of the digital medium — we have the option to tweak if we are so inclined :^D), the novel reads beautifully, particularly with its superb characterizations.

Thank you, Pandë! It was long overdue but, perfectionist that I am, I couldn't bear to put it up here with some of the egregious mistakes that were in it. It's going to be hard to resist, once it's posted here, overwriting the chapters on other sites where it's posted as well. That's definitely one of the advantages but also perils of online publishing! :)

This story is really amazing to me in how it not only introduced me to so many readers who later became good friends but in how it really did change my life. I probably would not be sitting where I am right now--doing a job I love, pursuing a Masters in Humanities--if not for this story.

The characterizations ... this is what has always fascinated me about the Fëanorians, that I think many authors miss: that Fëanor was considered the greatest of the Noldor and yet brought so much ruin upon his House and his entire people. How did one go from being a favorite of Aulë and the greatest craftsman of the Noldor to being a kinslayer and [somewhat] misguided rebel? What provoked that fall has always been most interesting to me, which I strongly suspect you understand. ;) What convinced all of his sons to follow along with him is also fascinating to me.

Thank you again for the comment ... really, for the support you've always given this story! :D

So, here we are. A few days ago, pottering around, I saw that you'd begun uploading this here and I cheered inside, because it's Dawn and AMC and the SWG, and that reads like a list of a few of my favorite things. But, I didn't do more than that because the characters were calling (never drop out of the fandom for six months. Everyone is talking to me. There aren't hours in the day...) and I'd already started rereading AMC over on FFN in preparation of introducing it to my roommate within a week. (My roommate was badgered into reading The Silmarillion based solely on my continued laments about not having a Tolkien-literate real life friend and raving about AMC.)

And then I realized that editing AMC was on your to-do list, and that seeing it here must mean that these parts had been edited, and that seemed like a good thing to waste my time on, and several things jumped out at me.

1) This remains the best thing I've ever read, ever in all of history, and I will say so to anyone who asks.

2) Tyelcormo [which I just noticed we spell differently]'s statement in chapter one that he asks for what he knows he cannot have in hopes of getting what he would be content to have suddenly cast Beren and Luthien in a whole new light for me. Maybe demanding her hand in marriage was a ploy to get Thingol to surrender his claim to the Silmaril? *fridge brilliance, whether intended or not*

3) THIS CHAPTER. OMG, THIS CHAPTER! I'm literally almost crying over the brilliance of what I missed when I first read and reread this years ago. Because, hey, your Carnistir is somewhat precognizant. And, hey, he's sitting in the bathtub playing with model Telerin ships. And, hey, he's speaking in formal diction out of his usual speech patterns, pleading with Ulmo and Uinen to restrain Osse. And, hey, doesn't this sound like a certain ship-stealing incident far off in the future at this point? "I wonder sometimes where Carnistir, who cannot feed himself in a civilized manner and still cannot discern between toilet water and bath water, learns such silliness."

You are evil amazing. I'm not even going to go into the heart-wrenching-ness of Nelyo declaring no one will ever hurt his little brothers. I'm not capable of going there at this moment. But it's moments like these that make me think, "I will never be able to do this," and be one hundred percent okay with that.

So... I guess, I'm really grateful you decided to share this novel after all? And that you're re-uploading it here, inspiring me to read again and be completely re-bowled over by the delicacy with which you foreshadow/allude to future events. It struck me back when I first reviewed on FFN, and it's striking me again years later. =D

I apologize for taking a little while to reply. I have been out of town and had friends visiting from out-of-country and, honestly, I was rather bowled over by this comment, and it took me a while to muster up the words for a reply. I know, right?? :D Because ...

"This remains the best thing I've ever read, ever in all of history, and I will say so to anyone who asks."

What writer doesn't dream of being told that?!

Thank you for telling me that. I sometimes think of it at random moments and still get little shivers, like I can't quite believe anyone would say anything like that about one of my stories! :)

"Maybe demanding her hand in marriage was a ploy to get Thingol to surrender his claim to the Silmaril?"

That was definitely not intentional but I always say that I in no way get the final say in what my stories "mean." It's a cool idea for sure! Honestly, I don't think too much about Tyelko (Tyelco? :) and Luthien, because I have a hard time wrapping my brain around the whole Luthien-and-Beren story in any meaningful way. I'm hoping said brain-wrappage will occur before I reach that point in the story. At the rate I've been writing lately, I might well be 80 years old by that point, so there's hope.

"And, hey, doesn't this sound like a certain ship-stealing incident far off in the future at this point?"

Now that was totally intentional! :D

"So... I guess, I'm really grateful you decided to share this novel after all?"

And I'm really grateful for this comment. It's definitely on the short list of those that didn't just make my day but rocked my whole freaking week.

Thanks so much for reading again and commenting again and being so kind. :) I'm trying desperately to get my writers' legs back under me after years of giving my whole self to my teacher training, and this was such a nice boost of confidence.

OMG, Dawn! I read these chapters and as one of a family of seven children, including brothers, and cannot believe that you with one sister understand them and the large family dynamic so well. Shame on Maglor! I cackle when I read sentences like this one: “Macalaurë gives me a guarded look, and I know that he is also thinking of the two children in his tales—one fair and one dark [great detail—that wicked, wicked boy!]—who were killed when wolves jumped into their nursery late at night.” That is my brother Jerry, next to me in age, six years older, speaking. It rings so true and vividly clear! He grew up to be a good and decent man. Guess there is hope for Maglor.

Love this chapter, with the doctor and Fëanor acting as tutor. And how gracefully you include the details of Celegorm’s birth and distinguish Fingon’s intelligence and courage from that of the more aggressive and superficially self-confident Celegorm. And I love the conspiracy of Celegorm and Maglor at the end--brothers against the world; that is also how it is with siblings, or at least it is in my experience: "That will be our secret, Tyelkormo, and it will go with us until the ending of Arda."

I fall in love with all of them all over again, every single time I read this novel.

I only have one sister, but I have several same-age cousins with whom I was close when I was a kid. So I had some of these experiences, notably my cousin Jenny--one year older than me, minus a day--telling my sister and me when we were kids that there was a bear in my parents' woods that would eat us. Then, another time, we spent the night over her house for a birthday party, and she told us that there were violent gangs roving the neighborhood (in rural Maryland--but we believed it) that threw beer bottles through the windows if they saw a person walk by inside the house, and that my uncle was a sleepwalker who would punch us in his sleep if he happened to stumble into the living room. We slept in a pile as far from the door to the bedroom hallway as we could, but my younger cousin Jamie fell asleep first, right inside the door to the bedroom hallway, as it were, and I remember panicked, whispered deliberations on how to cross the room to rescue her without triggering beer bottles through the windows and without incurring my uncle's somnambulist wrath. (I think we took the cowardly route and just left her. Poor Jamie.) Maybe this is where I get my penchant for horror stories? Even in the midst of terror, there was a certain delight in this.

Jenny turned out a lovely adult as well with three kids of her own who are on the short list of small children I actually look forward to being around.

It's funny because I never would have thought of that experience as the potential source for this scene until you mentioned your brother Jerry. Of course, I use to scare my sister too, as often as possible.

"And I love the conspiracy of Celegorm and Maglor at the end"

In Felak!verse, they're simultaneously the least and most alike of the brothers. In terms of temperament and talent, they haven't much in common, but they share that they both strongly doubt that they are adequate in Feanor's eyes, even that he loves them. That comes from life too: As crazy (in a fun way) as my dad is now is as difficult as he was to grow up with. I remember discovering, with my sister, some horrid art project we'd made for him when we were small, and we'd both been surprised that he'd been sentimental enough to keep it when it clearly was nowhere near his standards. (He's not an artisan, but he was a printer--a very successful one--for a living and therefore extremely picky about minutia like handmade cards being folded straight or appropriate fonts being selected.)

Another wonderful chapter loaded with Felak!verse. I loved the characterization in this paragraph,

"Tyelkormo is excellent—not surprisingly—and fearlessly athletic, bouncing from trees and rolling across the ground to assault Nelyo at new angles. Carnistir—even at the tender age of four—also shows promise and fights like a whirlwind, descending mercilessly on his opponent, bludgeoning Atar's sword aside with relentless tenacity. Findekáno has begun with the rudimentary attacks and defenses, but now, Nelyo is working to 'open his style,' he says, and I can see that one day he too shall easily beat me."

Poor Macalaurë! He was so totally me. I was always one of the last picked for teams in school. My sister was an athlete, so I was super-cognizant of my own incompetence. (That changed a lot when I started skating, which I was actually really good at. Heh. I'm discovering all kinds of connections between AMC and my RL today.)

I sigh and turn. Macalaurë stands in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame, his fingers curling and uncurling nervously. "Amil, I'm sorry," he says. Macalaurë, I suppose, understands the fleeting gift that is inspiration better than his brothers

Know that feeling all too well!

and I wonder, in an irksome little voice that I try hard to suppress, why it is considered virtuous for a child of royal blood to grow up inept in all practical matters.

I remembered the nanny I hired for Laura our first summer in Mexico. A girl from an upper, middle-class family, highly recommended because Laura would supposedly learn good Spanish from her. The girl could not make them a sandwich and had no idea of how to wash a plate and a glass when they had finished. I was stunned. Everyone told me I was naive--that I should have expected exactly what I got.

I am amazed at the quality of your writing. Truly. I love the way Carnistir sees things in colours- there are some autistic children/adults who see things this way and it is so interesting to read. But the fight is just incredible- like two giants clashing- the violence and passion and then the love...

Thank you, Ziggy, for your kind comments on this story! It's one of my oldest pieces, so it's great to know it still interests people all these years later. :) I'll have to get on the ball to finish posting it here; I was posting it a few chapters at a time but haven't updated it in a while.

Several people have noted that Carnistir reminds them of a child with autism. I find this interesting since it wasn't what I intended while writing it--at least, not specifically that he was autistic but definitely with a different way of experiencing the world--but I'm very glad that he presents a sympathetic portrait of a maybe-autistic-but-definitely-different child. I'm a special-ed teacher in life, so honoring differences is important to me.

"Like two giants clashing"--I love that description! And it's Feanor and Nerdanel to a tee.

Thank you again for reading and reviewing! I hope you continue to enjoy the story. :)

I need to stop again and tell you ,again, how sublime this is, laced with tragedy of course, we know the ending. And your lovely and perfect characterisations which outshine Tolkien's own pencil drawings. That is not a disrespectful comment on Tolkien because he focused on the narrative but I am sure, if he read htis, he would feel you have brought his characters to life.

I find your comment very interesting, ziggy, because on other sites, this story has been characterized so many times as likely to cause Tolkien to roll in his grave! :D It's refreshing to hear the opposite. I agree that JRRT and I have very different goals: He is presenting a mythology/history that spans thousands of years; I am taking one year of that time (which isn't even mentioned explicitly in the book, which always makes the "Tolkien rolling in his grave" contingent fun to respond to ;) and exploring the motives of the characters within it deeply. I embarked upon this story with the question of how one as great as Feanor (and his family, by extension) could fall so far. The Silmarillion is fun to write fanfic about precisely because the characters are pencil drawings, leaving a lot of room for interpretation and invention, which I find very fun. :) I'm glad you're continuing to enjoy the story and thank you for the comment!

Oh, I LOVE the way you write Carnistir and Tyelkormo and that lovely moment of thanks. I have never thought much about the younger brothers but you are giving them this gorgeous depth and affection. They are so vibrant and funny, and love their Nelyo.

(Did you know you have repeated one section at the end?).

Yikes--thank you for catching that mistake in Chapter Ten! I've fixed it.

This story started as a characterization exercise, and I started with Tyelko and Carnistir for precisely the reason that I hadn't thought much about them! :) The "3Cs" do so much wrong later in their lives, I wanted very much to understand them as children, to see how their lives could lead from being born into the greatest house of the Noldor to villainy. They've become favorites of mine in the process.

This story has apparently made a few Carnistir fangirls! :D He wasn't written about very much before I started this, aside from being used as an understood villain. I think he is a fascinating character: What in the world would cause an Elf of Aman to earn the epithet "the Dark" (and a similar father-name)? Although it matches his appearance, I can't help but think that something about him made it appropriate to assign a name with such negative connotations to a child. That, and his animosity toward the House of Finarfin, guided my characterization in this story.

I am glad you like Maitimo too--I catch a lot of flak for him! :)

Thank you so very much for such kind comments. They have been a bright point in my week so far!

Carnistir bares his teeth and prepares to bite Fëanáro on the neck, but Fëanáro quickly says, "What did I say about biting?" and Carnistir pauses with his lips skinned back from his teeth like a rabid dog and his eyes crinkled into a pout.
"But Atar, I love you. I won't make blood come this time, I promise."
"How about a kiss instead? Kisses don't hurt."
Macalaurë pops one of the brown lumps into his mouth, even though it is still so hot that his face pinches with the heat and he has to bounce it between his teeth to keep from burning his mouth. "These are good, Atar? What are they?" he asks around the lump of hot food rolling around in his mouth.
Carnistir pecks Fëanáro on the lips, then bites into one of his braids when he turns to acknowledge Macalaurë. "They're snails," he says, setting Carnistir on the floor to help Nelyo remove them from the baking sheet. "A Telerin delicacy."
Macalaurë retches and spits the half-chewed snail onto the floor. Carnistir scrambles over to it, and before I can say, "Ah no, Carnistir, don't!" pops it into his mouth and chews with a contemplative look on his face.
"Maybe we've found the secret to getting him to eat," Fëanáro says, scraping the snails from the sheet and into a big ceramic bowl. "Maybe we have to half-chew his food for him."
"This is good, Atar," Carnistir tells him earnestly, chomping the snail in his back teeth. "They taste better cooked."
"Have you eaten them raw?" Fëanáro asks casually, without looking at Carnistir.
"Yes, Turko told me he'd give me a gold necklace if I ate one. It was slimy except for the shell. That was crunchy, like eating a bug."

 

 

This made me laugh so hard, I choked on my breakfast!!

 

You have this wonderful sense of humour that creates very real family scenes but exagerates them just enough for elvishness to be credible. Such a gift- I have not written or read anything since i startd reading this and often puase in the hard working day to think about this fic. I dont do that often.

Back in 2005, when I first posted this on LiveJournal, there was a request for a beverage warning for that very scene! :D Actually, I think this exchange here might be the most commented-upon in the whole story.

And I see you're on Chapter 19, which means I need to get on the ball this weekend and get some chapters added! The story is complete and has been for a long time, but I only started adding it here relatively late. It seemed silly not to have my best-known story on my own website. :)

Thank you for your kind compliments. It is truly an honor, to have one's work appreciated like that. I hope you continue to enjoy it!

These last few chapters have had me completely enthralled- I LOVE that Tyelkormo can talk to animals and its finally revealed - and of course that will be why he is beloved of Orome later. Just love that Fingon protected our little Carnistir and I always love Maitimo. You have just got this so completely utterly right. I keep admiring your writing but am absolutely lost in it too- and then the little nuances and foreshadowing hits me like a wave. Those nightmares Carnistir has, the finding of the Orc drawings, Rumil, and Maitimo's fear now of what lies in Angband.

I feel several strands pop free of my scalp, and it hurts! I scream, and he tries to jerk to comb away, but it is embroiled now in my hair, and more strands are pulled from my head. The dull gray that is Macalaurë begins to churn and foam like an angry sea, and when he tries to untangle my hair from the comb, I bite his arm as hard as I can, grinding my teeth into his wrist until I can feel the ridges in the bone through his skin. He yelps and shoves me away, and I scamper into the corner of the bathroom, jumping into Atar's bathtub to get as far from my brother as I can manage.
"You hurt!" I shriek, thrusting an accusing finger in his direction. The comb is still caught in my hair and bumps against my shoulder.
Jaw set, Macalaurë hurls the washrag to the floor and flounces from the room, and I hear him calling for our brother Nelyo, who has been given the day off from chores to study.
Irritating Macalaurë is immensely pleasurable for some reason, like watching a pending storm stir up a flat, boring summer sky. There is a tingling pressure in my belly, and I realize that I have to pee, so I do it in the bathtub, soaking my underwear, just to hear what Nelyo will say to Macalaurë.
I hear Nelyo's heavy footsteps growing nearer, interspersed with Macalaurë's pattering ones. "The little imp is unbearable," Macalaurë says, and Nelyo shushes him. "He will hear you," Nelyo says, and Macalaurë retorts with "I care not."
"That is precisely why he acts the way he does. Because you 'care not.'"
Nelyo is irritated at Macalaurë, at having been interrupted. Turko and I have been forbidden from trying to get Nelyo to play with us on certain days of the week. Amil says that he is preparing hard and cannot be disturbed. I wonder, sometimes, for what he is preparing that could make him ignore his brothers.
Nelyo comes into the bathroom. He is barefoot and wearing a loose tunic over worn trousers. His hair is secured at the nape of his neck in a sloppy knot, and his lips are dotted with ink. He sees me crouching in the bathtub in my underwear with a comb caught in my hair, and the irritation prickling his color is smoothed by sympathy. "Carnistir," he says, "little one," and, stooping next to the bathtub, reaches to lift me under my arms. The hot, sharp smell of urine hits us both then, and he grimaces and turns his face away. Pee is pattering into the bottom of the bathtub from my dripping underwear.
"He is soaked!" Nelyo shouts to Macalaurë, who is hovering in the doorway.
"Soaked? There was no water in the bathtub—"
"He has wet himself, Macalaurë." Nelyo stands abruptly and retrieves one of Atar's red towels, monogrammed in gold with the Star of our House at the corner.
"Well, he hadn't done that when I left to get you a minute ago!"
"Did you think to ask him if he needed to relieve himself first?"
"He's four years old, Nelyo! I didn't still piss in my pants at that age; neither did you, and neither did Tyelkormo!"
Nelyo gives Macalaurë a cold look and turns to peel my soaked underwear from my body and envelope me in the fluffy warmth of Atar's towel. He wraps me too in his arms as he pats me dry. Nelyo has the same gift as does Atar: the ability to make me feel as though I am a pea being folded inside a pod, hidden and protected from the cruelty of the world beyond. I snuggle into his neck and hear myself mew in contentment.
"How do you do that?!" Macalaurë rages, and I hear him storm from the room.
Nelyo kisses the top of my head, and I reciprocate by kissing his neck, adding the tiniest of nips when I know by the rumble of laughter in his throat that he won't notice.

 

I am sorry to paste such a chunk but it makes me HOWL with laughter. I love Carnistir and his biting- horrible little troll that he is! And is makes me a little sad too because of his nightmares that is a foresigh of what is to come- strange, poor little Carnistir. And the spitting out of the hot soup made me chuckle too- but he really is a poor little thing but the idea of Tyelko blinking through the spat out soup is so funny. And when you end it with such terror, it is emphasised. Wonderful writing.

"What about you, little one?" Fëanáro says to Carnistir. "How do you fare on this lovely day?"
Carnistir bares his teeth and prepares to bite Fëanáro on the neck, but Fëanáro quickly says, "What did I say about biting?" and Carnistir pauses with his lips skinned back from his teeth like a rabid dog and his eyes crinkled into a pout.
"But Atar, I love you. I won't make blood come this time, I promise."
"How about a kiss instead? Kisses don't hurt."
Macalaurë pops one of the brown lumps into his mouth, even though it is still so hot that his face pinches with the heat and he has to bounce it between his teeth to keep from burning his mouth. "These are good, Atar? What are they?" he asks around the lump of hot food rolling around in his mouth.
Carnistir pecks Fëanáro on the lips, then bites into one of his braids when he turns to acknowledge Macalaurë. "They're snails," he says, setting Carnistir on the floor to help Nelyo remove them from the baking sheet. "A Telerin delicacy."
Macalaurë retches and spits the half-chewed snail onto the floor. Carnistir scrambles over to it, and before I can say, "Ah no, Carnistir, don't!" pops it into his mouth and chews with a contemplative look on his face.
"Maybe we've found the secret to getting him to eat," Fëanáro says, scraping the snails from the sheet and into a big ceramic bowl. "Maybe we have to half-chew his food for him."
"This is good, Atar," Carnistir tells him earnestly, chomping the snail in his back teeth. "They taste better cooked."
"Have you eaten them raw?" Fëanáro asks casually, without looking at Carnistir.
"Yes, Turko told me he'd give me a gold necklace if I ate one. It was slimy except for the shell. That was crunchy, like eating a bug."

 

Oh- I know I have told you this before- but I LOVE Carnistir. And this is one of the funniest things I have read!

I think I missed the loveliness of Findekano's song in this chapter on th efirst reading- it hit me much as it did Macalaure- with a bright and vivid image of treetops and htis deep love...to find it is Fingon's for MAedhros as they are later, is a wonderful touch - presumably the song Fingon sang in the wilds when he searched for Maedhros. It made me cry a bit at the terrible sorrow that awaits them- but then, every time I read your Carnistir, it brings that dreadful truth into this lovely scene of domesticity. Let me tell you again, Dawn, that you are a consumate writer and I have lost count of the number of times I have picked a chapter to read in a quiet moment, or thought about it.

Thank you again, Ziggy, for such a kind comment--very much appreciated in this busy weekend! :)

When I wrote this eight *gulp* years ago, stories that showed the Feanorians as villains dominated. I wrote this largely to counter that; I wanted to show that someone who commanded the loyalty that Feanor did could not have been simply a jerk. Of course, it has the effect, contrasted against who they become, of showing just how far they fell and what was lost when Finwe was murdered and the Silmarils stolen. Or, that is my hope.

This is the song Fingon sings when rescuing Maedhros. I'm glad you picked up on that--I think you might be the only person to ever mention having done so! :)

I meant to say - I liked especially the last chapter when Arafinwe recognises that he bares his neck to Feanaro like Tyelkormo did to the wolf in the prevous chapter - its a great analogy.

 

And in this, poor Nelyo- gentlest and sweetest that he should have his heart broken again- its like he is fading before our eyes. But at least I know what's coming this time and wont rush through it to make sure he's OK. The chapter beneath the stars when he proposed is really visible, tangible- very very well written and the emotions sharp and focused.

Thank you, Ziggy! I always feel like the romance in this story is one of its weak points. It's certainly what readers complain about the most! :) Being my first story, I was trying too hard to avoid certain pitfalls that were being constantly harped on at the time. So it's good to hear that the romance in this chapter worked for you. :)

"He knows that I will choose him, that I would let him hold my face beneath the water if it was what he deemed best for me. I will let him destroy me."

 

Gradually you have stepped up the sense of foreboding and the anxiety, discord increases but it never dominates and you have htis wonderful gift for showing the prosaic and normality of life. I love this relationship between Macalaure and Nelyo- but the insight you show into character is a masterclass in itself, and the delicacy of the foresight and future is superbly balanced.

Thank you, Ziggy! At this point in their lives, all is supposed to be happiness and honey, but of course, as a writer with a preference for the dark, I can't resist some foreshadowing. :) I very much love writing characters (don't ask me what happens in a lot of my old stories, 'cause I can't tell you, but I never forget a character :) so it's always a thrill to hear that this works for a reader. Thank you again for continuing to brighten my days with your comments!

Have I told you how utterly delightful Vingarië is, how sweet and how convincing she is- with her runaway tongue and slighlty gauche manner she is perfect for Macalaurë. They are just lovely together and all the time there is this underlining of the fact that they will never have the life they hope for, and that one by one, all the lovely children of Feanor will die... so sad. Beautifully written.

This made me cry the first time I read it and did again. And Nelyo's apparently irrational fear is in fact, so brilliantly, beautifully rational- not only for the actuality of what can become of 'us' but the knowledge that is is also not quite his fate but close enough to have been. Your writing is so far beyond fanfiction, Dawn. It is moving, provocative and so deeply, intensely satisfying and in amongst this lovely domestic story, the seeds of tragedy, and it makes me so sad.