A Sense of History: Straight Road
The next in a series of articles about ships passing to and from the West, Simon uses "The Fall of Númenor" to attempt to arrive at Tolkien's reading of the exordium to "Beowulf."
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[Writing] Meeting the In-Laws by awwyeah107
Caranthir is nervous about meeting Haleth’s father and brother for the first time. Haleth is sure everything will go well.
[Reference] Straight Road by Simon J. Cook
The Fall of Númenor offers the evidence used to arrive at Tolkien's reading of the exordium to Beowulf.
[Artwork] Morgoth's prisoner by elennalore
Maedhros in Angband
[Reference] Fandom Voices: Comments and Feedback by Dawn Walls-Thumma
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[Writing] Coincidences of Fate by cílil
Sometimes Eönwë wonders if his life is just like Manwë's romance novels. Sometimes he even thinks the One may be laughing at him from above.
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Straight Road by Simon J. Cook
The Fall of Númenor offers the evidence used to arrive at Tolkien's reading of the exordium to Beowulf.
Fandom Voices: Comments and Feedback by Dawn Walls-Thumma
Over thirty people contributed their thoughts on the experience of leaving and receiving feedback on fanworks. Emotions run high on all sides, but community and connections emerge as factors that promote feedback while easing its difficulties for readers and viewers.
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[Writing] From whose bourn no traveller returns by losselen
So gathered they were to Bree, what lieutenants who could be spared, from their scattered watches west and east, for their chieftain had returned from his long sojourn in lands godless and mountains strange.
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It is well known that Psamathos does not leave his cove. He does not like to get his feet wet, and prefers to spend his days dozing under the sun.
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Water Music by grey_gazania
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Water Music
It was a pleasant night on the Isle of Balar, clear and cloudless, with a warm, salt-tinged breeze coming off the water. Elrond didn't often venture out at night; oftentimes he couldn't bear it, couldn't bear to see that star that the people here called Gil-Estel. It might have been a sign of hope to the people around him, but to him it was a painful reminder of all that he had lost — his father, his mother, and now his foster-fathers as well.
That star would never signify hope to him. And Balar may have been beautiful, but it would never be home.
Of course, Elros didn't seem to feel the same way at all. Already he had found companions among the Men and Elves who dwelt on the island, and he seemed to relish this unprecedented opportunity to have friends his own age. He was also already on good terms with Lord Círdan and King Gil-galad, both of whom Elrond privately found irritating. The king's mother, who worked in the Houses of Healing, was the only person he found tolerable thus far.
No, Balar would never be home.
He was sitting on a rock near the water, his harp resting on his leg, absently plucking out one of Maglor's gentler tunes when he heard footsteps in the sand behind him. Stilling the strings with his hand, he turned around and immediately bit back a groan. It was Gil-galad, unfortunately. She'd rubbed him the wrong way from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her, as she'd stood there on the mainland beside her banner-bearer and refused Maedhros' offer of shared midsummer meal, his gesture of peace and goodwill. Now she seemed determined to integrate Elrond into Balar's social circles despite his lack of interest.
She dropped onto the sand beside him and flashed him a small smile. "My father used to play that song sometimes," she said.
He blinked at her, surprised by the statement. He'd never heard her mention Fingon before, not even in passing. But he still had no particular desire to talk to her. "It's one of Maglor's," he said, hoping that would make her go away; like most of the people on Balar, she held no love for the Sons of Fëanor.
Instead she said, quite calmly, "I know. Most of the famous tunes are."
"And you like them anyway?" he asked, running his fingers gently across the top of his harp.
She shrugged. "I'm not going to waste energy hating everything Fëanor’s sons touched, you know."
"So which is your favorite song, then?" he challenged.
"Shh," she said. "Listen."
He fell silent, puzzled. After several long moments he said, "I don't hear anything."
"Listen harder."
He shook his head. "But there's no music. Just the waves."
She gave him a soft smile and nodded. "Exactly. Harps are well and good, but my favorite song? My favorite song is in the water."
They say that water holds the echo of the Music of the Ainur, you know.
Maglor had said that once. Elrond hadn't understood it then, and he didn't understand it now. But something inside him eased regardless. If two people as diametrically opposed as Maglor and Gil-galad could share a common love, then maybe, just maybe, life on Balar wouldn't be so bad after all.
Chapter End Notes
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