Lockdown Instadrabbling by Lindariel

Chapter 1

This belongs after my story The Fairest Vessels that Ever Sailed, in the On Secret Looms Entwined series.  The prompts were "elegant, response, danger, eyes."

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Russandol greeted her, elegant and diplomatic as always. "Dear cousin! We had not thought to see you here unsummoned, but you are welcome."

Alatáriel bit off her first response unspoken and replied "after seven years among the Falathrim, I thought it time to travel. My brother tells me you are planning a council?"

Carnistir cut in, his eyes flashing with danger. "You didn't bring that, that sailor with you, did you?"

Alatáriel replied smoothly, "of course. Teleporno needs a change of scenery as much as I do." A spark of danger kindled in her own eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Chapter 2

This story falls within the timeline of my The Fairest Vessels That Ever Sailed story.  Prompts:  sunlight, quiver, bowl, luscious

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One thing was certain: these Elves knew their archery. This Falathrin bow, just a stick really, was better than any Noldorin bow Alatáriel had ever handled. She retrieved her arrow from the straw target, then walked the 144 paces back to the line where Teleporno stood with a wooden bowl full of freshly picked berries. She smiled broadly as she came to meet him, and he popped one of the berries into her open mouth. Luscious!

"You are shooting well today," he said, unslinging his quiver.

"It is easy to shoot well when the sunlight is this bright," she replied.

Chapter 3

Prompts:  rock, color, abode, carry.

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The mountain pass was very steep and stony, but Thorondor found a flat place to set down his burden. Idril located a small stream nearby and set to work, gently washing the marks of battle from the hroa of her friend. Tuor instructed each of the survivors to find and bring back a rock as big as they could carry.

As the cairn for Glorfindel rose higher, Idril began to sing. Sweet green grass sprouted on the bare rock, then tiny flowers the color of his hair. Thorondor bowed low to the cairn and returned to the Abode of Eagles.

Chapter 4

Prompts:  nonsensical, weeds, thought, house.

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The Dwarf frowned. "Weeds for iron? That is what you offer? Nonsensical!"

Eöl's lips thinned. "These are not weeds. This is athelas, the most potent healing plant the Elves know." He gestured to the six clay pots. "If you plant these outside the gates of Nogrod, the House of the Firebeards will never want for health."

Gamil Zirak thought for a moment. "I will give you half the fallen star for those six plants plus another six the next time you come."

"Done!" agreed Eöl. He eyed the great pitted chunk lying on the anvil and thought of black swords.

Chapter 5

Prompts:  lighthouse, glass, star, waters.

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Barad Nimras was not a lighthouse, but its topmost floor was walled with glass nevertheless. Galadriel slowly traversed the circuit, appreciating the view.

Her ósanwë had always been strongest with her brother, before Celeborn of course. She did not bother to speak, knowing Finrod would hear her anyway. "This is well done," she thought. "Ataryo would be proud." She kissed her thumb reflexively at the thought of her father.

"I have never loved the Sea," Finrod thought back. "But from here I see it differently. The reflection of a single star on those waters is as beautiful as the firmament."

Chapter 6

Prompts:  dust, brighter, untouchable, world.

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Eärendil climbed the giant hill, remembering the name his mother had given it in stories: Túna. Somehow he had expected it would be a brighter, lost, untouchable place, more in keeping with the sad tales his mother had told him of the Darkening. Then his eyes fell on Tirion, the largest city in the world, more achingly beautiful than anything he had ever imagined. Graceful arches soared from tower to tower, innumerable fountains of stone and silver plashed in green plazas. Star-white dust clung to his feet as he moved in wonder through the silent boulevards planted with fragrant trees.

Chapter 7

Prompts:  airs, great, traverse, realms.

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Anganappa writhed on the thin cold wind, matching her speed to Ancalagon. She never felt as strong as when she rode the upper airs like this, and now for the first time in her life she did not have to be hidden or constrained. They flew south and west over the ruin of the forest realms, hurtling toward the unsuspecting enemy.

A great vessel appeared in the sky, radiating white light. Painfully dazzled, she watched the impossible thing traverse the leagues between them.

"My children!" she cried, banking away.

Ancalagon, already engaging the light, roared back "protect them!" She fled.

Chapter 8

Falls in my The Fairest Vessels That Ever Sails timeline.  Prompts:  sausage, sweets, fish, cooking.

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Old Maitanor paused, his hands up to the elbows in raw sausage meat. "Ah, good. Would you just drop another handful of the sage into this for me?"

He watched Alatáriel carefully as she reached for one of the seven herb pots on the worktable, then nodded as she added the sage to the bowl. "You do know something about cooking!"

"Not much, but I know a lot about plants," she laughed.

"Now, what brings you here?" he asked. "Looking for sweets?"

"No," she replied. "But may Teleporno and I have another pot of those little fish packed in oil?"

Chapter 9

Prompts:  mountains, gate, knee, hundreds.

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It had taken a long time to reach the mountains looming up across the plains. But at last he approached the gate, disregarding the greasy smoke still curling from the riven doors. When he approached the gate at last, he struck his knee on the high carved lintel. Filthy Elves, he thought, always putting stumbling blocks in the way of others.

He moved cautiously until he found the abandoned lair. Mîm ignored the noisome stench, worse than burnt Elves, that still clung to the heap of metal as he climbed atop hundreds of gold cups and claimed Nargothrond for himself.

Chapter 10

This falls within the period of time covered in my story Out of the Darkling West.  Prompts:  grass, shell, woke, frittered.

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Alatáriel woke from a dream of Feänorean lamps to find the great new star risen again, to her inexpressible relief. Its bright light silvered the path she picked toward the clump of long grass atop the dune. She sat down facing the sea so she could see Canyalqa drawn up onto the beach near where Teleporno still slept rolled in his cloak.

The light caught on a small pink shell nearby. She picked it up, recalling the swans and the voice of Ulmo. "We have frittered away enough time," she thought. "Now we must take hope and find this Eglarest." 

Chapter 11

This is part of a story I have outlined but haven't begun to write yet.  Prompts:  slate-grey, frayed, glass, egg.

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The egg was almost spherical and larger than a melon. Frayed tendrils reached up from the surface, waving as if in a light breeze through the meshes of the sturdy net. The Elf shifted the burden, holding the net at arm's length from her body.

Alatáriel still could not account for how difficult it was to focus on the details of the egg. Shiny as spun glass, at the same time it seemed to emanate a slate-grey shadow.

"This is it?" she asked the Elf holding the net. "This is the secret?"

"This is where it starts," replied the Elf.

Chapter 12

Prompts:  tarry mischance pearl embrace.

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The elfling in his embrace wriggled as he put her down. "I must not tarry, hinya. Master Círdan wants to send these with the messenger, and I must pack them quickly," explained her father, shoving pearls into leather pouches while counting on his fingers.

"But I am not ready to let them all go," she protested.

Her father paused a moment, considering. He knocked one of the pouches askew, spilling many pearls. "Ah, such a mischance!" he sighed, gathering them again save for one. "There, got them all!"

He turned his back, thinking "what is one pearl less to Doriath?"

Chapter 13

This story falls more or less at the beginning of my story The Fairest Vessels That Ever Sailed.  Prompts:  alone, elements, rule, room.

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By the standards of her father's houses, the cosy lodgings given to Alatáriel barely counted as a room to herself. But this small suite -- a room apiece for sleeping, working, receiving visitors, and bathing -- in the House of Círdan seemed palatial after her years living aboard Canyalqua. She could be alone whenever she wished, and she was fed and protected from the elements. Best of all, she knew she was a valued guest (being vital to Círdan's future plans) and under no one's rule.

If only her rooms were next door to Teleporno's, they would be perfect.

 

Chapter 14

Prompts:  summoned, winter, ruins, familiar.

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Tuor blinked at the familiar mountains ahead of him. Had he not searched this area a hundred times already? Yet the Lord Ulmo had summoned him to look here for the Annon-in-Gelydh, the very escape route he had been searching for all these years.

The light reflecting off the winter snow dazzled his eyes, and he blinked again. Had that been a gap he saw? He approached the cleft in the rock face and followed the path behind it. Ruins of stone and steel towered above him, and he knew he had found the Gate of the Noldor at last.

Chapter 15

Prompts:  brimming, white, joy, flowing.

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Water welled up from a stone basin in the shape of a water-lily set in the floor of this chamber. She walked along the channel that conveyed the flowing water until she reached another chamber. Here the water fed a raised fountain built of white marble set among sweet-smelling grass, overhung with trees cunningly carved of tan and green stone. Living water-lilies surrounded by spears of ninglor grew in the brimming pool.

For the first time since the Darkening, Alatáriel let go of the homesickness she felt for Valinor. Here in Menegroth there were both joy and art to spare.

Chapter 16

Prompts:  colors, fog, forest, hunt.

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A sudden fog curled up from the river on his right, pouring over the starlit path laid down on his last journey until it vanished along with everything else below his knees. To his left the forest loomed in colors of green-grey amid pools of shadow. The fog seemed to press him southward, away from the river. He paused, thinking of the friend whose companionship he sought, then stepped closer to the trees. He could see his feet here.

The trilling of nightingales wound out of the air. Elwë turned from the river to hunt their song into Nan Elmoth.

Chapter 17

Prompts:  fruit, blood, taverns, forbidden.

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Findekáno walked along the makeshift path between the stalls of the Grey-Elves all striving to outdo one another in their hospitality to the newly arrived Noldor. Their offerings of fruit, flower tisanes, and vegetables wrapped in pliant flatbreads were a far cry from the savory riches of the taverns of Tirion, where he and Russandol had spent so many hours working their way through every menu, every wine, every song.

He drew his cloak closer about his shoulders against the chill off Lake Mithrim and reminded himself once again. The blood spilled in the Crossing had forbidden him those memories.

Chapter 18

Prompts:  vagrants, testimonies, free, resolute.

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Thingol frowned from his throne. "And who are these vagrants for whom you speak?"

Finrod spoke persuasively for nearly half a day, giving testimonies to the resolute Secondborns' opposition to the Enemy. Every time Thingol sought to cut him off, Melian gestured and Thingol subsided. At last Thingol looked at Melian, and she nodded. "Very well, cousin. They may live in Estolad," he said. "Let the Fëanorions look to them."

Galadriel mind-spoke to Finrod from her spot behind a carved tree. "He offers land over which he has already lost control."

Finrod nodded, answering both. "Yet they will be free."

Chapter 19

Prompts:  crucible beginning fire new.

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Rog turned from his anvil, restless for a project other than the usual swords and spearpoints. Into his smallest crucible he dumped the last of his ilinyaisa, then set it in the fire.

With the steel beginning to melt, he sketched absently. This small knife would gleam blue near the Enemy's creatures. He would gift it to young Eärendil on his next Begetting Day.

Rog saw that he had drawn Orcs of many types, and spiders, and a small sinewy creature -- neither Elf nor Orc, but something new -- splayed froglike before the point of a knife. This knife.

Chapter 20

Prompts:  tree, silver, staff, diamond.

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The steel scepter rested on a pillow of silky Grey-Elven cloth like a bolt of silver atop a thundercloud. Wrought in the shape of a miniature tree branch, it bore blossoms of diamond, opal, and pearl. A light dust dimmed its gleam, for none had touched it in over a hundred years, not even the king, though it lay ever ready to his hand.

Turgon frowned at the Dark Elf in front of him. Father of my nephew or not, he thought, this challenge cannot stand. He sat back down upon his throne and reached for his Staff of Doom.

Chapter 21

Prompts:  ocean star song discover.

At only 97 words, this one's not strictly a drabble, but I'm hoping the format makes up for those three missing words.

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Fair Elwing in a sea-mew's hame flew up and down the ocean cold

in search of Eärendil's ship, a-bearing of a star so bold.

She cried a song of Silmaril, of dying kin and riches staked,

as ice upon her wings built up and foam upon her beak it caked.

She dived toward the silver planks of Vingilotë's birchen deck.

He took her to his bosom then, until she woke upon his neck

changed back from bird to help him (in her shining Elven form again)

discover Tol Eressëa and bring back hope to Elves and Men.