Sunship
Nerdanel places the final cog in the sunship as an act of resistance. A 150-word ficlet for Jubilee instadrabbling, for the prompt "Hunger" by Robinson and Rohe:
Though the ink is running dry, we still insist to write upon the sky
Oh, this spacious sky Is not poetry enough for our swelling lungs
We must write a thousand songs to carry on our tongues
Our thoughts will burn so bright we can white the stars out from the sky at night
And we wonder if our love will endure the certain pain
And if this land can withstand the endless strain of our hunger
Nerdanel lifted the brass cog into place. The others had stepped conspicuously back, recognizing the symbolism of the moment, and she thought to scold them but the cog was heavy and her arms on the verge of trembling, so she tolerated it.
She ordered: "Flip the switch," and the engineer obeyed.
The sunship came to life, cogs and wheels tumbling against each other, catching and casting the light of Arien's eyes like darts, like daggers, like caltrops—wounding and then wounding the wounds. Arien, at the center, her fire rebounded, redounded from the faces of the metal. Everyone looked away.
Not Nerdanel. Manwë was intoning about the power of the Valar manifest ever in the sky against their fallen kinsman, but Nerdanel and Arien shared a thought that collided with such force that its origin (which woman? hurt but still standing?) could not be discerned:
Fuck that. Each defeat, we return, brighter.
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