New Challenge: Potluck Bingo
Sit down to a delicious selection of prompts served on bingo boards, created by the SWG community.
Chapter 1 - Galadriel nurses a wounded Belegund, son of Bregolas to health at the Dagor Bragollach, and trades tales with him.
"You are awake at last, young one? Peace, you are safe." A cup of bitter brew was held to his parched lips, and he drank, shuddering from the pain coursing through him. The herbal concoction eased it, though, and his breathing eased. Slowly, he opened his eyes. His first impression was of a cloud of gold and silver, bright as the flames that had rushed the field ahead of the men, scorching all they touched. He shied away - or tried to, he seemed to be restrained.
"Where..."
"In the healing tents. My brother has ordered you placed among his wounded, as your lord father sits in council with him."
"Nay, lady, mine uncle," he replied. "My father Bregolas was slain by the initial torrent of flame that overcame us." His voice was choked with tears, but he did not let them fall. "I am Belegund, and I am right glad to hear mine Uncle Barahir is well."
Slowly, she raised him up and gave the young man a proper looking over. He was indeed of the House of Beor, but no son of Barahir, she supposed. "Well, and indeed the savior of my brother's life. We owe your kin a great debt."
He met her eyes, and started. "You are the Lady Galadriel," he whispered in awe. "Long have I wished to speak with you, if you will forgive my temerity."
Galadriel laughed. "With me! But you have had my brothers as lords. There is much I would speak with you about, while we sit in peace. Ask me your questions then, son of Bregolas, and I will answer if I may."
"I fear my questions might seem ill mannered, my Lady," Belegund admitted, but Galadriel brushed his concern away.
"It matters not. I will do my best to satisfy your curiosity. Long has it been since a young one has asked me their questions freely," she said. "If I may not, or cannot answer, you will know so, but I shall not lie knowingly."
Belegund nodded. "I seek a tale of the West," he ventured cautiously. "Among our people it is said that the Nameless One came from there, that he was first among the Powers and sought to rule all there, even as he does here. It is said here that he tried to rule our fathers in days forgotten, and that the Elves were our saviours, that your brother the Lord Wisdom taught us of the Light, which the Nameless sought to quench. But how could he quench such Light as lives on in you and your kin?"
Galadriel drew a shuddering breath, letting it out slowly. "Indeed that one has ever coveted the Light, for though he was, it is said, made first and greatest in the Beginning by the One, the Light has never been within his grasp. He could never create, only corrupt. In seeking the Flame Imperishable, I believe, he corrupted these fire-breathing beasts which now war against our people, yours and mine."
Belegund took that in, wide-eyed and gasping; a coughing fit made his body spasm, and Galadriel offered him another cup, easing his pain and sending him to sleep. She sat down by the bed, closing her eyes. The fight against Morgoth would be long and difficult, and the deaths had not yet drawn to their close. She Saw as it were in her scrying pool, the young face pillowed before her, a few years hence, cruelly slain. He would survive this war, but not much more than that.
Mandos be kind to him. She hoped his death, when it came, would be painless. He had endured so much already! In the end, she prayed Morgoth would pay for all he had done, and all that had befallen in his name.
Let it be so.