Morning Mist and Silver Sun by StarSpray

Olympic Drabbles

These drabbles are not all connected, but were all written for the August 2021 SWG Olympic instadrabble session.

Boat Race
miss, mountain, bay, nineteen

There was a race on in the Bay of Eldamar, with more boats taking part than Frodo could count—he lost track after nineteen, though there were many more than that, speeding about with sails as colorful as butterfly wings. Some also sparkled, and he suspected that gemstones had been woven into the canvas.

"I missed this," Galadriel remarked beside him. "I used to win these races more often than not." She was smiling, looking young and radiant in the bright sunshine, with the mountains rising up behind her.

"Nonsense!" laughed Finrod on her other side. "I used to win!"

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Work in Progress
Symmetrical, bread, ribbon, fall

Nerdanel stepped back to survey the sculpture, brushing off her apron, dust cascading to the floor. A young woman holding a basket of bread, caught mid-twirl with her skirts flaring, her hair falling about her shoulders and held back from her face by a carefully chiseled ribbon. Nerdanel tilted her head, narrowed her eyes. Something was not quite right. This statue did not look as though she might spring to life.

Oh. That was it. It was all just too symmetrical, too perfectly balanced to look real. She picked up her chisel and went to work on the hair again.

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Wartime
Brave, lift, insight, strategic

As the war stretched on it was impossible to gain any insight into the stratagems of the Witch-king. Or maybe all too easy—maybe it really was just as simple as terror and icy despair. Elrond stood at the edge of the valley and watched the twilight of dawn lift with the rising sun, though his thoughts were far away in Arnor, remembering when Elendil had come and raised the towers of Annúminas, gleaming on the lakeside.

Brave Men remained in Arthedain but they dwindled. Arvedui had not been seen in months.

Yet Gil-Estel still glimmered in the western sky.

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Swan Lake
green, bridge, swan, arch

The bridge arched gracefully over the clear pool where the waterfall fell. The stones were green with moss and damp from the spray. When the sun emerged from behind a cloud a dazzling rainbow appeared, mirroring the bridge as it leaped up out of the foam.

Eluréd leaned on the railing and watched a swan slip into the water, followed by half a dozen awkward goslings. He grinned to see little Estel appear on the bank. "Careful," he called. "Swans will bite!" Estel paused, and when the swan looked his way he fled back to the bridge, Eluréd's laughter following.

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Keep Them Secret, Keep Them Safe
artistic, rings, balance, tumble

The rings lay in a row across the table, all but two of the Seven that had already been given away. A mistake, Celebrimbor knew now. His greatest artistic feat, he had thought this project. Still thought, of the Three. But even they were not safe. The balance of power was tilted in Annatar's—in Sauron's favor, and he did not know how to fix it.

He tangled his fingers in his hair, feeling as though the world were crumbing again and he tumbling down along with it into the darkness. Sauron was coming. He would take Eregion, take the rings.

Not all the rings. Celebrimbor swept up the Three and strode from the workshop. There was still a little time, though it dwindled swiftly.