All Hues and Honeys by Dawn Felagund

Unsafety

Fingolfin rides to Morgoth's gates. A perfect drabble for IFD/Meet & Greet instadrabbling. The prompts were "lost in memory" and "running, limits, breathless, distance."

He'd pushed Rochallor to breathlessness; running hooves thundered amid the dust. In the distance, Thangorodrim edged up from the horizon, shadow metastasized.

He remembered as he rode. They'd come in dark and ice and despair, but there'd been hope too. Fëanor wasn't the only one who pondered what self-governance might bring their people. His journals from the Ice were filled with bureaucratic musings, safety and order to busy his mind so he did not fear which step might shatter the ground beneath him.

He came to the limits of his world. The gates before him were the sky. He shouted.