Conversation Overheard in an Avallonë Cafe by Lferion

Conversation Overheard in an Avallonë Cafe

Celegorm sings, you know. They all do. It’s kind of terrifying. Maglor is the most terrifying, being who he is and all, but they're none of them slouches.

Smallest team ever, and they win all the time.

Smallest because if it were any bigger, no one else would ever even have a chance. Imagine what Fingon in their number would do. Oh wait, you don’t have to — there’s good reason he’s not allowed to sing in competitions with them.

Yeah, no-one wants a repeat of that particular performance of The battle of Alqualondë: The Catalogue of Swan-ships. Or the aftermath.

Laurësirya bent her head over the beer-taps, polishing the brass carefully. She'd been in that performance (she'd been in that battle); the speakers weren't wrong, but they hadn't had steel in hand (weapon-sharp, prop-dull), ships so close (carved feathers, canvas wings, breath swept away by wind, by wave-roar), Song billowing, buffeting, Naming each Ship, each captain, each of the kinfolk slain. The quay ran red in both memories, but only in one did she drown in the iron-and-salt of blood and black water. Serving beer was much less challenging, but someday she would take her place at Caranthir's side again.

Chapter End Notes

Laurësirya - Caranthir's wife is not named in canon. The name I gave her means Flowing Gold (as in light or color, not the metal).