Solstice instadrabbles 2019 by NelyafinweFeanorion

Sam knew Mr. Frodo kept the star glass in a safe place--wrapped, cushioned, tucked deep in his pockets, far away from any prying eyes.

He kept it as hidden as he did the Ring. 

Good thing.

Precious things were far too fascinating. They’d learned that lesson the hard way.  

It was special, that phial Lady Galadriel had gifted to the Ring-bearer. Knowing it was there, even hidden as it was, gave Sam a flare of hope. 

Sam’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at their treacherous guide. It would only cause more trouble if he knew of it.

It never went well, Maedhros thought, when alcohol was plentiful and his brothers brooding.

They were often brooding, since he’d passed the kingship to his uncle.

Eliminating their House from the succession was the only good decision he had made since setting foot on these Valar-forsaken shores 

That and agreeing to bring together the estranged scions of the house of Finwë for this feast of reuniting, reaffirming bonds of family, kinship and cause.

He looked around at the disparate groups huddled at the tables. Brothers, cousins, silent Green Elves and the isolated two that had come from Doriath.

Afternoon faded into evening, then evening to past midnight. Erestor knew he should stop, put the old parchments away, but the pull of the words inscribed in that hand he knew so well was far too strong.

How long had it been since he had laid eyes on that inimitable script?

He recalled long nights of practice, as the Himring winter temperatures made Maedhros’ fingers uncooperative and stiff.

The scratch of the pen nib, the spills of ink, muttered curses, and flares of temper. The determination to make the left as skilled as the right and even more so.