They Went in Haste by Dawn Felagund

Cirth

Prompt: binomial, chocolate, world, tree

Pengolodh sneaks off to hear Daeron speak of how he won the Cirth. With a nod to one of my favorite tales from Norse mythology.

Pengolodh waited until his tutor nodded off—nails set in palms, barely awake himself—and abandoned binomials and stoichiometry for the starlit beach.

A crescent of eager listeners crowded the Doriathrim scribe’s knees, a priceless gift of chocolate from Aman forsaken so he could sketch his stories in the air. Behind him, even the sea seemed to lie down and listen.

Pengolodh lingered beyond the lanternlight.

“Upon the world-tree, for nine nights I hung, my dripping blood upon the stone my price and …”

Producing a stone, wounded by his words, a tale even the sea would struggle to efface.