A Short History of the Easterlings by Himring

A Short History of the Easterlings (drabbles)

Drabbles written for the Fellowship Challenge at Tolkien Weekly on LiveJournal.

This sequence may be going to be expanded later--either continued as a second drabble sequence or embedded in a frame story (or both).
However, currently any such plans are on hiatus.

[ETA: actually I ended up writing "In the Shadow of the Forest"--but it's still possible the other continuations I was considering might happen as well, at some stage]

A Beginning
(Ally)

I came seeking for allies. I had no Long Peace to offer them before I asked them to fight under my banner. When I followed my brother’s call to meet the new arrivals, I was hoping for a second Hurin, perhaps, but they were not like the Edain.
‘Come with me’, I said nevertheless, ‘and I will share goods and lands with you. But I warn you—we will have to fight to keep them.’
Bor gave me a long look. Then he turned his head and spat, accurately, northwards.
‘Show me your enemies. I’ll make them mine,’ he said.

A/N: "northwards", i.e. towards Angband.
The Edain arrived in Beleriand during the Long Siege of Angband, but by the time the Easterlings arrived, it had been broken.

Sharing Bread
(Companion)

I asked them to dine with me and served them the best I had—I could do no less—the whitest of breads, spiced venison, dried fruit from the South. They perched stiffly on their chairs and took cautious bites, warily sipping Cirdan’s choice vintage.

The next day I visited their camp fire. They fished a flatbread from the ashes, wrapped it around a scoop of indefinable stew and handed it to me. They were visibly relieved when I bit it into it without hesitation and chewed appreciatively.

‘It’s none so bad, this white bread,’ said Borlach, months later, surprised.

A//N:The original sense of "companion" seems to have been "someone who shares bread with you".
I've observed that people's tastes in bread are often conservative. Emigrants sometimes miss the bread at home more than any other kind of food.

Shared Spaces
(Comrade)

Bor sent his son to me to learn our ways. I put Borthand in my best guest chamber, but in my nightly wanderings I kept encountering him in corridors and on the walls. In daytime, shadows grew under his eyes. There was nobody else quite that young in the place, except dogs and horses.
I put him in my own chamber, in the truckle bed my last page had used, and stayed in bed at night, watching to make sure he slept. Soon, he insisted on taking on a page’s duties. Hesitantly I agreed. He seemed happier and learned quickly.

‘We were puzzled at first when you did not offer a hostage in exchange—not even the least among your people,’ said Bor to me later.
By then, we were speaking more freely, sorting out misunderstandings.
‘Did you think so little of us, we wondered? But then you put my son into your own chamber—and when you brought him back you spent the night in our midst—you yourself, alone, sleeping without guards…’
Borthand watched the expression on my face with amusement. How quickly he had matured, moving with confidence, as among comrades, among Elves as well as Men!

A/N: I hadn't intended to inflict another etymology on my readers but "comrade" itself didn't seem to do it for me, so I checked the etymology and apparently it's related to "chamber" and the original meaning may have been "room mate".
Borthand previously featured in my story "Uldor". In that story, he tries to befriend Uldor in Himring but Uldor suspects Maedhros has put him up to it. So, in a way, this piece could be read as prequel to "Uldor". Also, in my 'verse, Maedhros suffers from chronic insomnia, although in this drabble you could just read it as elves needing less sleep.

An Older Relative
(Friend)

‘I had a friend who died of old age,’ I told her.
‘Ho!’ She laughed so hard her belly shook. ‘Just one?’
Her braids gleamed white and her face was wrinkled, like ripples on the seabed.
But when I began to tell her about Amlach of the second House of the Edain, who died two score of years before the Dagor Bragollach, she looked thoughtful and said: ‘That would be quite something, to be remembered as a friend by an elf, generations after you are dead.’
I remember all my friends, Borgun. Too few of them died of old age.

A/N: Amlach is canonical and is the subject of my story "An Intense Dislike of Elves".
There is no particular reason why, so far, my invented names for Easterling women seem to end in "-un"

A Chant of Victory
(Mate)

The enemy looked down over Aglon.
From Ladros they came, destroying cattle.
At night they came, bringing death.

‘We will not suffer it,’ spoke Bor.
‘We will end it,’ said the elf lord.

Maedhros and Borthand drew sword together.
Like a falcon and his mate, from Himring, they stooped for the kill.
Bor raised his spear. They attacked the foe.

They howled, the devourers of men,
grim night raiders.
Before us, the din horde fell and fled!

We drove the enemy back.
We pushed the enemy back.

Later, those wise after the fact said we showed our strength too soon.

A/N: For Zdenka, whose comments on this sequence were much appreciated.

Chapter End Notes

Apologies: the double drabble on Borthand does not really fit the terms of the Exchange Student Challenge, but I did have it in mind as I wrote, so I linked it anyway.