Three Sentence Fics: Tolkien by Zdenka

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Chapter 2

I. A Flame Refused

Any, any, What is ice which gives you fire and which your fire freezes still more?

"It would please me, cousin, if you would accept this," he falters, holding out a circlet of gold (his own work, and he thinks it well done, though it cannot match the glorious gold of her hair).

Galadriel meets his eyes and lets him see: the flames of Losgar reflected across the water, the bitter and deadly cold of the Grinding Ice.

Celebrimbor bows his head and can find no words.

 

II. To Rekindle Hearts

Any, any, What is born each night and dies each dawn? Hope.

Celebrimbor has never forgotten how his father's words left the people of Nargothrond stricken with cold fear: how they trembled and turned away from their king, not meeting his eyes, how Finrod's face grew bleak as he cast aside the crown.

Celebrimbor has never had his father's or his grandfather's eloquence, to kindle hearts with flame; but he has the skill of his hands, and perhaps in this new Age that has dawned, he can turn that skill to good, begin to mend what is broken. He cannot fully atone for his own silence on that day and for all those he failed to save; but with his greatest work completed, the Ring of Fire lying warm in his palm, he can finally acknowledge his own secret hope.

 

III. Death is One

Any, any, What flickers red and warm like a flame, but is not fire? Blood.

Celebrimbor's vision is dazzled with gold, that shining circle marked with letters of flame; he can feel how his blood trickles over his torn flesh, warm as fire. The fire of his spirit is nearly spent, guttering lower with every beat of his heart; but he has enough left in him for this. One more time, he raises his head to face Annatar -- his friend, his betrayer -- and says hoarsely, "No."

 

 

anonymous prompt: Any, any, this was a triumph. I'm making a note here: huge success.

Except the Ones Who Are (Un)dead

He who was once a proud King of Men had faded into a wraith; hating the sunlight, bereft of love or memory or hope, holding nothing dear but the precious Ring that Sauron had given him. So far it worked as Sauron had anticipated: the wraith's spirit enslaved to one of the Nine, that was in turn bound to the One Ring he bore on his own hand; but there still remained the final test, to see if the last spark of his will was extinguished.

"Give me your Ring of Power."

 

 

prompt from silvr_dagger: Any, any, I wish you flying dreams

On the shores of Númenor, soothed by the sound of waves, Elros dreams: he is on a ship that sails through a dark and glittering sea, night above him and below him and all around him; but the golden-haired mariner who guides the ship does not turn to look at him.

In the green valley of Imladris, where the river Bruinen rushes over its stony bed, Elrond dreams: he is flying through the air, while a white gull with Elvish-bright eyes spreads her wings to the wind with mournful crying.

The dream fades with dawn; but not before each of them sees a star descending earthward in a shining arc, and a couple who clasp hands at the top of a white tower.

 


prompt from silvr_dagger: Any, any, Reminding me that even prison walls/turn to dust and fall before the open sky

There beyond your walls the spring wind blows

Lúthien looks back once as they stagger away from Tol Sirion, Beren leaning on her shoulder.

In that moment when she feared Beren was dead, rage and grief singing through her blood, she threw her head back and screamed a single bright, glittering word -- and the walls of Sauron's fortress shattered and fell before her.

She can see now how the ragged piles of stone will settle, how the patient roots of vines and new saplings will pull them slowly apart and cover them with green; at last, even here, young trees will unfurl their leaves and stretch upward toward the open sky.

Chapter End Notes

The first three anonymous prompts are based on Turandot's three riddles in Puccini's opera Turandot.

To Rekindle Hearts: Title from Cirdan's words to Gandalf in LOTR Appendix B: "For this is the Ring of Fire, and with it you may rekindle hearts in a world that grows chill."

Except the Ones Who Are (Un)dead: The prompt and title are of course from Jonathan Coulton’s song "Still Alive."

There beyond your walls the spring wind blows: Title from a line in the Russian musical Finrod’s Song, translated by bunn

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