Red Crow by Lferion

Lawful Neutral (Refusal)

Nearing the Dagor Dagorath. Oaths have consequences. A quadruple drabble.

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Prompts - Lit:I2 Ghost story, Art:N5 Illumination, Poetry:I5 Verse Epic, Fanwork:G1 Tolkienian Prose

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They came to him in panoply, in blithe expectation of success. Under the louring sky armor and banners stood out like illuminations in a manuscript. A trumpet rang out as the foremost knight, dressed in blue and grey and silver, white plumes to his helmet, dismounted and strode to his door. As if he were not a ghost, a figment of their imagination. They had obviously not consulted Fingon. Or Elwing. Or for that matter the words to be found in any reference to public law and conduct: Elwing Dioriel’s Judgement on the Fëanorians, as Laid Upon Maedhros Nelyafinwe Feanorion and Witnessed by Manwë Sulimo in Year 12 of the Fourth Age. (This was what, the Ninth?)

“Never set foot in Tirion again. Never make another speech. Never take on another follower. No warriors, no scholars, no smiths. Not even a servant. If any [young] fool make pilgrimage to your door, sic your hounds on them. For the lifetime of Arda.” From Wings of White and Silver-Grey by Idrils_Scribe

“Take up your sword!” they cried, lines straight out of some verse epic, “Lead us against the forces of darkness that gather!”

He frowned at them, glittering on the flagstone courtyard he and Fingon had laid several Ages ago one autumn. He did not have a sword. Had not, since stumbling off Vingilot, jetsam out of the Void. He had an axe, an adze, a hunting bow and knife. Tools, not weapons. (Though well he knew a tool could be a weapon. That was not what these painted knights meant.)

Fingon was not with him this season. Elrond he would not see for even longer. No sending these bright warriors away with explanations or anything else, as Fingon was skilled at doing. Moved by the sheer weight of authority behind the clear and simple words Elrond would employ. He kept no hounds, and would not so use them an he did. The world not yet ended, weary though it be.

He had only his red crow’s harsh caw, “No.”

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“He will not, Lady. The only word he spoke was ‘No,’ whereupon he shut the door and answered no entreaty. When we returned the following day, he was not there, and this was pinned to the door,” the white-plumed warrior placed the single sheet of paper before her. Distinctive, painfully precise Tengwar gave her own words of judgement back to her, followed by a single line:

Arda not yet ended.

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