Three Sentence Fics 2018: Tolkien by Zdenka

Chapter 1

any, any or any/any, the shadows come out to play

Ilmarë sits perched in a tree just within the boundaries of the dark wood. Time passes; clouds hide the moon, and she can feel the shadows gathering behind her. She knows that if she turns around, the shadows will scatter at once; but if she waits, a shadow will detach itself from the other shadows, a pair of leathery wings will wrap around her, and so long as she does not turn to look, Thuringwethil's clawed fingers will gently caress her hair.

Any, any, dislike being underestimated

Celegorm looks as if he doesn't understand how it happened: how Orodreth the meek, Orodreth the dullard, has somehow gotten the better of them.

"You will leave this city before sunset," Orodreth says, his voice not loud but firm. He has never coveted the crown of Nargothrond, but the ones who sent his brother to his death will not have it.

Any, any, "dragons live forever, but not so little boys" (or girls)

Dragons are made to live forever, unless they are slain. With a black sword in his vitals, Glaurung still laughs. The grim, dark-haired boy, the shining-haired girl with defiant eyes: he will drag both of them into the darkness with him.

Any, any, I hold with those who favor fire

Somehow a late-night conversation among the Gwaith-i-Mírdain turns onto the question of which is deadlier, ice or fire. Celebrimbor declines to support either side, since both are equally deadly: "Ice like the Helcaraxë, fire as dragonfire, or the chasm where my uncle met his end . . ."

"Which would you prefer?" Annatar asks, smiling.

Any, any, eldritch

Uinen's hair uncoils, stretches through all the seas. She feels and tastes with the waving arms of a great squid in the dark crushing depths, she sees through the many eyes of a school of darting silver fish, she calls in the voices of gulls skimming over the waves. Númenor turns away and forgets to worship her; she is patient and can wait.

Any fandom, any, Starlight, starbright

Gil-galad dreams of fire, of a sword that shatters, and when he wakes he knows with certainty that he will not return alive from the morrow's battle.

He goes outside his tent and looks upward, his eyes searching out the familiar brightness of Gil-Estel. It is a hopeful reminder: that evil has been defeated before and shall be again, though he will not be there to see it.

Chapter End Notes

The name Gil-galad means “star of radiance.”

Gil-Estel: Star of Hope, i.e. the Silmaril as a star.