50 Prompts: AU Silmarillion by Urloth

Prompt: Reunion (Eol, Original Character)

Is connected to Prompt: Sisterhood

The moon, though young, could bring about old memories. Eöl watched it gently move behind the stars and pondered its silver radiance and how it and the cold gleam of stars reminded him of a woman long passed over the sea. The dark places between the stars and moon called out to him in rebuke, reminding him that they existed also, as had another woman, once upon a time.

How long had it been since he had seen their faces, alike in form though curtained in such different hues?

As if to answer his question, a guard knocked politely on the side of the opened balcony doors, alerting him to his presence.

“My Lord there is a woman at the gates, she seems to have found her way here alone and seeks audience with you. She claims that you and she are close kin.”

“How close?” he asked idly.

“She claims she is your sister My Lord.”

Eöl ran.

-

She had changed. Not her face and not her form but what lay beneath all that; her fae, the most important part of her had changed.

There was radiance to her that he associated with the kalaquendi.

There was deep sorrow upon her that he associated with Elu Thingol’s relatives of the aforementioned group.

And madness like that of the Fëanorion’s glowing in her lamp bright eyes.

“Brother,” she crooned and opened her arms. Her dress was nothing more than tattered rags near her feet but the bodice was sound, the black cloth adorned with white vined embroidery, “I have missed thee awfully!”

He looked into those eyes and he saw a woman with hair like gold, surrounded in a golden light. She stood there, radiant with youth and love, bathed in that light… no not bathed, consumed. As he watched the light turned to fire and her smile turned to a voiceless scream of agony.

“What have you done?” Eöl asked.

“Only what was necessary. Tis the moon that rose first, and try as it might the sun will never blight its realm though the moon is freely seen during the day,” she replied in coherently and reached for him, grasping his shoulders with a fearsome strength.

“Have you not missed me brother?” she asked him pitifully; the feminine embodiment of the corruption of the Valar’s touch.

He thought of her, the younger sister, the devoted sister and the innocent one. He wrapped his arms around her reluctantly and she fit against him like she had always fitted. She sighed and relaxed, as trusting as a child.

“I have missed you Mírandel,” he reassured her as she fretted with a button of his tunic and repeated her question.