Elwing's Soliloquy. by hennethgalad

Chapter 1

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   "Yes. Be still, Ulmo awaits, his mighty arms hold Eärendil in trust
And I, Elwing, daughter of Dior son of Lúthien, say to thee, accursed
Red-handed sons of scornèd Fëanor: Begone! Thy claim is forfeit
Thy rash and bloody deeds have made thy name a hissing in the street
Thy wretched father’s vanity, who shouldst eagerly have offered forth
Light which came from those long mournèd Trees, yet shut his bitter fist
Thenceforth but darkness fills thy thought. And here is the long-sought Light
But thou canst scarce draw near, wretched fools, for thou knowest, in truth
This blessed wellspring shalt burn thee truly, more even than the desire
Which burns thy black hearts.

Thy claim is void. Thine own oath cursed thee, and the first deed of thy quest
The first foul slaughter, slaughter of my own, helpless kin, when thou and those fey
Dogs who didst heed thy call to arm, whether fey or blinded by loyalty to thy name
What horror... To kill on order, without question or reason!
Heed my words, sons of Fëanor, these are the deeds of the Enemy, driving slaves with whip and fear,
Slaves who do not question. For thy forfeiture was enacted with thine own hands
Thy father’s claim, this gem being of his own devising, therefore his, is Forfeited
First by thy seizure of the fleet of swan ships, and twofold for their burning
And, for myself, for the murder of my kinfolk, both in Alqualondë the fair, and Doriath
Oh! By this gem! May the grace within it save me from the memories. Oh!
My mother, and my valiant father, and my brothers, whose deaths stain all Arda.

And now thou standest red-handed from killing my household, in my own chamber.
Begone! I say again. Hast thou forgotten what thou art? Is it so long since first
Thou took this cursèd path that all that was once in harmony in thy spirit is gone?
The strength of thine arm in battle gainst our foe turned on thy fellows, on thine own kin! That is treachery, black treachery. Dost thou dare to name thyself eldar?
These sleeping infants, lulled with poppy, will not face the horror of my brothers'
Dreadful death, abandoned in the forest by beasts, left to the cold and the fear!
Begone! I would that this Light in my hand were a weapon with which my wrath
Inflaming the gem to potency in balance with the dread toll of thy murders
And THUS with fiery blasts scour clean the face of Arda from thy wretchedness.

But this is no gem. It is a vessel only, meaning nothing. Were the secret not lost
Perished with the cursèd Fëanor, then perchance it might be unmade
The Light at last released, and thou also, freed from thy false Oath.

Begone... There is naught for thee here. Thou shalt not touch the Light
Rather I shall follow my beloved, my Eärendil, putting trust in the hands of Ulmo
The sea calls me home, the sea calls the Light home, here the Music is clearest
Here we were at peace, with the sails of the ships and the wild calling gulls
Here we watched the foam roll endless under sparkling sunlight and glitter
Beneath the silver stars. Here the path of Tilion beckons across the slow black swell

Begone! Or I shall go to Eärendil, with love in my heart. I see thy disbelief!
But thou hast murdered my kinfolk whether we had this gem or no.
Five generations of my blood, and yet more, dripping from thy foul hands!
I have bid them farewell, brave Elros, and my clever Elrond. I ask only this
Slay them while they sleep, let them not see the sword, the red, filthy swords
Neither in thine hand nor thine eyes. They are innocent, my poor young otters
They cannot harm thee."