The First Snow by Sirielle
Fanwork Notes
I would like to thank Mot and Nellelórë for their great help with the English translation and Tehta for the final beta-reading of the English text. Hantalë!
Reference to The Glitter of metal by Ithilwen.
I use Quenya names in the text, let me post their meanings [Sindarin name & Quenya names with nickname (epessë)]:
Maedhros: Maitimo - 'well-shaped one' - a reference to his beautiful bodily form, mother name; Russandol - 'copper-top' - an epessë given in reference to his red-brown hair; Maedhros (Sindarin) - 'Glitter of Metal', later changed into 'Well-formed (or shapely) Copper'.
Maglor: Kanafinwë - 'strong-voiced or commanding', father name; Makalaurë - ' forging gold' - a poetic reference to his skill in harping, mother name.
Amrod and Amras: Ambarussa - 'top-russet' - their mother name.
Source - J. R. R. Tolkien The Shibboleth of Fëanor in The History of Middle Earth volume XII.
filit - 'small bird' (Quenya). An affectionate nickname Maedhros has given to his brother Maglor. Epessë invited by Ithilwen.
hantalë - 'thank you' (Quenya)
- Fanwork Information
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Summary:
The First Snow (Digital painting 2008) Winter morning in Himring, the siedge of Angband time. Short look at the world with bright grey eyes. Vignette, Maedhros' POV.
Major Characters: Maedhros, Maglor
Major Relationships:
Artwork Type: No artwork type listed
Genre: General
Challenges:
Rating: General
Warnings:
Chapters: 1 Word Count: 693 Posted on 24 June 2007 Updated on 18 May 2021 This fanwork is complete.
The First Snow
- Read The First Snow
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He reached the top of the tower. Brisk, frosty air surrounded him. The landscape down the hill was covered with mist.
Winter morning in Himring.And the first snow.
The floor was already well sprinkled with delicate snowflakes.
He wrapped his thick long shawl tighter around his shoulders and slowly put a bare foot on the snow. At first he felt nothing as his skin was still warmed with the bath. He followed with his other foot, nothing. A step forward. Still nothing. Silence. Calm.Slowly, he walked to the middle of the turret. Now he was starting to feel the chill and dampness under his feet, but still it was not unpleasant.
Snowflakes were lazily drifting before his eyes. He wanted to reach out, to catch them, to hold them in his hand, but... He had only one hand. The attempts to hold his shawl with the stump nearly ended with the garment falling. All he could do was to reach out with the stump or...Turn his face towards the snow, as if towards the Sun.
He closed his eyes. The first snowflakes talked to him gently about calm and then, falling gently, whispered about change. He started to daydream... If only he could stop time, catch this frozen drop of water so it would remain beautiful for ever...
Father, what jewel would you forge if you could capture a snowflake before it reached my face?
How would you save the white frost gracing the world at dawn? Preserve a pattern embroidered with ice?Have you ever seen snow falling from the sky?
Any snow at all except that on the peak of Taniquetil?
Even in Araman there was none...His thoughts were flowing slowly; the memory of his father was not painful, not this time, in the stillness of the morning.
Stillness?
Someone's fast steps could be heard on the stairs. He knew the rhythm. He smiled to himself, sure that in a while he would hear something about common sense. The snow under his feet slowly started to freeze his skin. The turret door opened gently, and the footsteps halted in the doorway.
Without opening his eyes, he addressed his brother:'Come out filit, it's fine weather for contemplation.'
'Russandol, it is not wise! You will freeze if you stand naked there!'
Amused, he looked at his brother. 'I covered myself with the woolen shawl, what else would you desire? My feet will dry and my hair is still wet anyway.' He winked.
'Maitimo, you are insane.' Makalaurë wasn't giving up, although a smile replaced his solemnity. 'Come back to the baths and warm yourself. I cannot look at you standing barefoot on the snow.'
Maedhros sighed. So many times had he asked them not to use this name... Why couldn't they understand his aversion to being Maitimo?
'Kanafinwë,' his voice was cold, 'if you cannot bear this sight, go back inside.' After a moment, seeing his brother's face, he added in a slightly warmer voice, 'Or join me here. Barefoot. You will see there is nothing to be worried about.' He smiled conciliatorily. 'And please, do not call me Maitimo, it is not my name anymore, not with this.' He took his stump out from under the shawl.
'As you wish.' Makalaurë answered sadly and added with resignation, 'But now come back inside, Ambarussa have to set off soon if they are to make it before the storms. Surely you want to bid them farewell, don't you? Breakfast has already been prepared.' He turned away and went downstairs.
Ambarussa! It was the day! They were leaving with the first snow. Makalaurë would leave soon, too. They should stay, Himring was a safe place, and without them...
Without them it would be sad.
In answer there came a frosty blow from the north, swirling the falling snowflakes and sprinkling them into his eyes.
He went back following his traces. The snowy cover was almost intact, except for a few footprints of bare feet. In a while they would disappear.He smiled to himself and went inside
Szczecin, XII 2004
Chapter End Notes
Even in Araman there was none... Perhaps there was snow in Araman or in Losgar. For sure there was snow laying at the peak of Taniquetil in Aman. But was it falling down at the moment Fëanor was there? In my story - not ;)
The whole illustration sirielle.deviantart.com/art/The-First-Snow-cyan-94612438
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