"Tengwar" ficlets by chrissystriped

Calma - Lamp

Nerdanel admires her father's work.

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Nerdanel rested her chin on the table and stared into the blue, sparkling crystal of the lamp. It was held by a mesh of copper twine bound in the shape of a mountain range.

“It’s beautiful, atya”, she said. “You are so good at this. Can I have it next to my bed tonight?”

Mahtan laughed and stroked her hair with his large, warm hand. “But only for tonight. I have to bring it to Aule tomorrow.”

“I know.” Nerdanel pouted. “You always give the beautiful things away.” “That’s part of being a crafts-person”, her father said. “You have to be able to let go of the things you make. And it is the best feeling to see the joy in the face of the recipient.”

Nerdanel nodded slowly. “Like when I make paintings for you and emya?”

Her father kissed her. “Just like that.”

Ungwe - Spider's Web

Thranduil finds a magical moment.

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It was a crisp, foggy morning, the leaves on the trees were already turning yellow. Thranduil breathed the wet air deeply. It smelled of rotting leaves and mushrooms. He let his fingers slide over the bark of an oak hehad seen grow from acorn to the huge tree it was now. A lightning bolt had gone through her a few years ago, the dark scar was still visible but she had survived.

“Good dreams, my dear”, he said softly.

She whispered a quiet answer, already drowsy from the cold and short days.

A ray of sunlight broke through the fog and shone on a spider’s web in the oak’s boughs. The dewdrops caught in it sparkled like a thousand diamonds and Thranduil held his breath, letting the enchantment of the moment fill him. His forest was so wonderful!

He wasn’t very fond of the spider’s larger kin, but he knew the little ones fulfilled a purpose, and it had made this thing of beauty. The oak didn’t seem to mind its presence, either.

He felt one of his guards step closer and turned around. He could rarely steal more than a few moments for himself, before he was needed again, but today he would work with the glowing image of the sparkling spider web in the back of his mind and it would give him joy.

Alda - Tree

Melkor looks at the dead Trees. (AU)

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Melkor walked slowly up the back of the hill. No road led up from this side and the incline was steep. He’d come from here before.

There was a hard weight in his chest, tears pressing aginst the backs of his eyes. He'd been so terribly wrong. The black skeletons of the Trees loomed above him when he took the last step. He was alone, he needed to be, the first time he was coming here of his own volition after his pardon. He needed time to mourn his deeds.

They had been so beautiful and he had destroyed them because he’d been full of hatred for his siblings and the Eldar and their happiness. He hadn’t wanted them to have this beauty. He’d taken the last remnant of them for himself alone — or so he’d thought. The sun shone down on him and warmed his skin. He’d been so angry at their Father for working against him.

Melkor sat down between the Trees. His hatred and anger was long gone and only remorse remained. He could never make this undone.

“I’m sorry”, he said.

He would do so many things differently, if he could have, but time didn’t work that way. He sighed. He had to live with his mistakes like anyone else and the Trees would forever remind him of them.

---

Chapter End Notes

This is part of an AU, where Melkor eventually repents and is pardoned.

Númen - West

Círdan looks at the sea and wonders how to cross it.

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Círdan stood at the shore, his heart filled with awe. When they’d been told they were walking towards water, he’d expected something like Cuiviénen, just bigger. He could not have imagined this endless expanse of water with no land in sight.

(Although there supposedly was one far to the west. Some of their more far-sighted people said they could see it on clear days.)

Today the sky was cloudy, the water grey and roiling, some of the waves reached his knees, even though he stood far up the shore. How were they ever supposed to cross this? Orome had promissed them an island, but they’d been too late — searching for Elwe. He did not know, if there would be another chance.

“Do you like it?”, a voice said from behind him and Círdan turned around quickly. This was one of the Gods, he knew immediately, although the being had taken the form of an elf.

“It is awe inspiring”, he said slowly. “It looks dangerous.” And yet he'd felt a strange yearning for it the moment he first looked at it.

The being smiled and showed too sharp teeth. “It is, if you don’t know its ways. I’m Osse, I was sent to teach you while you wait. The Valar have not forgotten you.”

Círdan bowed his head. “Thank you. I’m ready to learn what you are willing to teach.”

Unque - hollow

Idril descends into her tunnel.

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Idril walked down the steps that had been hewn into the rock, lamp held high. It was cold and damp under the earth, little rivulets ran down the stone on each side of her. She didn’t like to be underground, it made her heart race and her hands sweat, but she needed to see how far they’d come.

She had a bad feeling, nightmares plagued her and Tuor was restless also. Something was coming.

The tunnel narrowed, rock turning to earth the further she walked on. Wooden planks were stabilizing the walls and ceiling.

She wished, she could have asked Maeglin for help. He and his people were miners and the best at building tunnels. But she didn’t trust him. Something was wrong with him, apart from his unfortunate infatuation with her.

“How is it going?” she asked when she reached the end of the tunnel. There was always an engineer with the workers, making sure it was safe and keeping track of direction. Teluril spread out her map.

“We’ve made it to about halfway across the plain”, she said, pointing at a dot dated to yesterday.

Idril bit her thumbnail. She’d wanted the tunnel to reach the Echoriath, but that had been when she thought there was time. Her feeling told her they needed to be finished soon.

“It will have to be enough. Prepare to delve towards the surface again and concentrate on making the tunnel wider.”

If they had to flee, she wanted to make sure that as many people as possible could walk through this tunnel.

“As you wish, Lady.” Teluril looked at her with worried eyes. “What is going to happen?”

“I don’t know.” Idril sighed. She wished Ulmo would send her a dream as he had to her father so long ago. But he had sent them Tuor and her father had refused to listen. She would do what she could to reduce the impact of that mistake. “Whatever happens, we will be ready”, she said firmly.

---

Chapter End Notes

OC's name is from Chestnut's awesome name list

Aha - Rage

Ecthelion fights the balrog.

(cw: graphic violence, character death)

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Ecthelion was bleeding and burned. His arms were tired from the heavy attacks of his enemy.

“You’re dead, elf”, the balrog growled at him with triumph in his fiery eyes.

Ecthelion gritted his teeth against the pain in his body. He’d tried everything, the monster was too good a fighter and knew better than to let his smaller enemy come too close.

Ecthelion felt despair raise its head and stamped it down. No, he could not give up. He fanned the burning rage that had kept him standing until now. His city was burning, his friends were dead. He had nothing to lose. He would not let his enemy get away.

He bowed his head and charged — Glorfindel had laughed at his helmet design. He felt the spike puncture the balrog’s stomach. It stumbled back and Ecthelion pushed with a scream. Fire was all around him, he was burning.

He pushed until they both fell into his fountain. Steam and boiling water enveloped them. Ecthelion felt the balrog struggle and wrapped his hands around its neck, holding its head under water. He would not let it get up again. He’d take it with him.

The balrog's muscles became limp. Ecthelion's vision flickered and went dark.

Esse - Name

Two Mablungs meet.

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“So you are the other one?”

Mablung opened his eyes and blinked at the elf who’d stepped between him and the sun he’d been enjoying on a bench in Thranduil’s garden.

“I’m sorry?”

He didn’t know him and he wasn’t sure if the way he looked at him was judging or just interested.

“The other Mablung. I’m Mablung.”

“Oh!” Mablung rose and bowed to the Sinda. “A pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

He’d sometimes wondered about the elf who shared his name, but he’d vanished.

“Likewise.” Mablung of Doriath smiled wryly. “Thranduil speaks very highly of you and that’s saying something.”

“Because I’m a Noldo, yes?” Mablung chuckled. “He's gotten used to me. How long have you been here?”

“I was with Thingol and Melian in Lórien, but when I heard Thranduil had arrived, I came here.”

“Thranduil told me, you were close once. Want to swap stories?”

Thranduil had always become a little sad, when he spoke of him, because he hadn’t known what had happened to him, so Mablung hadn’t asked too much.

“I’d like to get to know the person who’s sharing my name — and is a friend of my friend on top of that.”

“That sounds good. Let me invite you to a drink.”

They left the garden together.

---

Chapter End Notes

My main OC Mablung was given that name before I even knew of Mablung of Doriath and I've sometimes thought about letting them meet. (Turns out it is hard to write two characters of the same name talking to each other.)

Parma - Book

Elrond receives a gift from Pengolodh

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“I wanted to give you this, before I sail”, Pengolodh said.

Elornd accepted the book with a questioning smile. It was bound in golden-brown leather and stampted with a border of tiny leaves and stars.

“I collected stories fo your parents from people who knew them.”

Elrond felt tears rise up in his eyes and swallowed hard. “Thank you”, he croaked. “That means so much to me.”

Did he realise that Elrond barely remembered his parents? Did he understand how much he wished to know them?

The chronicler smiled and squeeze his hand. “Writing down bit historical moments is important”, Pengolodh said. “But so are the small intimate things, like this, for the people who stay behind.”

There was something in his eyes that made Elrond wonder, who he had lost and if there was something left of them.

That day he resolved to keep a diary, for whoever remained behind, when the time to go came for him.

Quesse - Feather

Gothmog longs for his lover.

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Gothmog gently held the long feather between two fingers. It was speckled white and brown, a falcon’s feather but larger than usual.

I miss you so much, you stupid bird, he thought.

Why couldn’t Eonwe see that he was following the wrong brother? They’d had a huge fight, each wanting to convince the other of their desicion.

But his anger had subsided and if he was honest, Eonwe wouldn’t be the person he’d thought he was, if he’d turned out less loyal. He just wished, he’d chosen him — them.

Gothmog traced his lips with the tip of the feather and wished it were Eonwe’s touch. Might her risk a trip close to Almaren in the hopes of finding him? He shook his head. Too risky on all fronts.

He was not that desperate.

Yet.

Yanta - Bridge

A dwarvish builder receives an odd request from the Elvenking.

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Hár stared at the elf and tried to process what he’d just heard.

“You want me to build a mechanism into the bride to make it easy to destroy?”, he asked slowly. Maybe he’d just misunderstood — even an elf couldn’t be as crazy as that.

“Yes”, King Thranduil said. “Build me a bridge that can be broken down quickly in case of an emergency. Is that possible?”

“Yes. But why?”

The Elvenking’s face turned even more serious than before. “Have you ever heard the story of Túrin Turambar?”

“I have… oh.”

There had been a dragon and a bridge involved in the destruction of an elven-realm, hadn’t there? He didn’t think a dragon attack very likely here, but the king was paying well.

Hár shrugged. “It will be done as you wish.”

Formen - North

Melkor walks among the graves of his people. (AU)

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Melkor walked among the orc graves close to what used to be Utumno so long ago. A chill wind was blowing so far north, even in what accounted for summer here.

The graves were hewn into the stone and closed with boulders, and not all of them were old. They still came here to bury their dead.

Around the graves where figures carved into the stone. They showed the deeds of the dead, showed them fighting valiantly and always, the last picture of the cycle, they kneeld before what he’d learned to recognise as himself - a mountain with three tips, rays surrounding them. They were showing him their deeds so that he might not destroy their souls.

He had made them and he had not been kind to them. They knew what power he held over them.

Melkor sobbed and let the tears run freely. “There is more for you”, he whispered. “And I will make sure you receive it. You deserve a better afterlife than this.”

He missed home, but he had a task and he would look all over the world for the lost souls of the children that were his too. It was time he took responsibility.

---

Chapter End Notes

Belongs to the same AU as the "alda"-ficlet.

Silme - Starlight

Celebrían sews a banner.

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Celebrían pulled the silver thread through the heavy nightblue fabric with practised ease. She hummed softly while she worked, weaving a song of protection into the embroidered stars.

Soon Elrond would carry Gil-galad’s banner into battle and the thought that either or both of them might not come home from the war chilled her to the bone. She loved them both in very different ways, losing either of them would break her heart.

Her Song faltered. She put the needle down and closed her eyes. No, they would come back. They would win. They had to! They could not leave her behind! Celebrían wished she could go with them, but she was no warrior, she was no healer.

She took a deep breath and sang of hope in the darkness. Of the sun on leaves and starlight on water. Of safety and peace and love. For both her stars.

Silme Nuquerna - Starlight Reversed

Morgoth breaks free from the Void.

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The world was old and Manwe was tired. He still loved Ea, but age weighed heavy on him. He still watched the doings of the Children, when he was awake, but sometimes he slept through centuries without knowing.

He woke when Varda gave a cry: “The stars!”

Manwe looked up and saw the stars being swallowed, sucked in by a darkness deeper than night. Living and moving, breathing malice.

“It is time”, Námo said. “Time for the Last War.”

Manwe tried to shake himself more awake. He needed all his wits about him. He needed to be ready.

He shuddered. He would never be ready to face what his brother had become during the millennia of his imprisonment in the Void.

Anna - Gift

Haleth receives a gift.

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Haleth walked towards the elf who had waited patiently on the bench before her house but now was standing up. She wondered how long he’d been sitting there. She’d left to hunt at dawn and now it was late afternoon.

“Lady Haleth”, he said bowing. “My Lord Caranthir sends me with a gift for you.”

Haleth leaned her bow against the wall and hung her catch — two pheasants — on a hook beside it to accept the leather satchel.

Copper glinted at her when she opened the drawstring. She took the armring out and admired the fine engravings, mixing elvish motives with those of her people. She smiled. That ridiculous elf had paid attention.

“Tell your lord I am pleased with his gift”, she told the elf who’d clearly been told to wait for her reaction.

She might wear it when Caranthir invited her to a feast the next time. And tease him about not having the guts to give it to her himself. She enjoyed the look on his face when he felt embarrassed.

Lambe - Tongue

Finrod discovers Galadriel's newest secret.

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“You have been strangely quiet at dinner, sister dear”, Finrod said and eyed her suspiciously. “Is something the matter?”

Galadriel blushed and shook her head. Her tongue hurt. Her older brother narrowed his eyes.

“Open your mouth”, he commanded.

“Don’t tell father”, she lisped before she stuck her tongue out. She did not want to deal with Finarfin's opinion about this right now, when she was less then able to explain.

Finrod grinned when he saw the pearl on her tongue, held in place by a golden bar. “You’ve got some balls, little sister. I won’t tell father, but don’t you think he’ll find out eventually?”

Galadriel shrugged and Finrod’s grin widened.

“Looks like you won’t talk back at me for a few days, eh?”, he teased and laughed when she punched him.

Hyarmen - South

A traveller watches penguins.

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He watched the white and black birds with a smile while he sketched them. They looked so funny, hopping and stumbling around on land. But in water, hunting for fish, they became quick and sleek. It even looked like they had fun swimming. It was clear to him that the sea was their natural element.

He closed his notebook that was filling fast with the new animals and plants ehe was seeing on this expedition to the far south.

He did not regret the fight he’d had with his father who’d wanted him to stay home and learn his trade. No, he was not someone who stayed in one place forever. His heart was a wanderer. It was not the sea that called him, like many others on this ship. For him it was the adventure, seeing something new every day. Never standing still.

Ampa - Hook

Maedhros prepares for a fight.

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Maedhros stood still with difficulty while his servants dressed him in his armour. He was quivering with impatience, waiting to storm off, towards the enemy.

He was finally strong enough again to fight and he ached to make the orcs pay for his suffering — if he couldn’t get Morgoth himself.

Finally his armour was on, his sword at his hip and his prosthesis changed. He screwed a hook — sharpened to a wicked tip — into the cap over his stump.

“Lets make them bleed”, he told his lieutenant with a wild grin.

He would make the orcs fear him -- the elf who’d survived the torment of Angband and had gotten away.

Óre - Heart

Annatar is troubled.

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“Don’t tell me you are growing a heart”, Annatar spat at his own image in the mirror. “Pathetic!”

Everything had been going so well. The orcs were multiplying in the south, he’d earned himself the trust of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain and was well on his way to find friends among the notoriously difficult dwarves. The only problem were his own stupid feelings! He was starting to like Celebrimbor a little too much.

The Noldo was just so good. It should have been annoying. Instead he found it adorable. Celebrimbor was trying so hard to make up for the sins of his family, leave behind the mistrust and violence.

“And would it be such a bad thing to join him in this effort?”, his mirror image said.

“Oh, shut up, you’d go crazy, if you had to stay her forever!”, he growled. He could not stay here. He was not like them!

No, he had to get rid of the elf as soon as possible. Even if it was going to break his heart.

Umbar - Fate

Námo remains silent.

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Námo sat silently and watched. Manwe was speaking to Melkor, allowing him to go among the people of Aman.

There was no malice in his prisoner’s bearing, he hid his true feelings well. But Namo knew the truth, he saw the road before them clearly, and said nothing.

What would happen, had to happen. It was in the Music. It was played. It could not be changed now.

Inside, Námo wept for the evil that would come of this decision. He wept for the pain it would cause Manwe. But it had to be.

The choice was Melkor’s and he’d made it long ago.

Anga - Iron

Rog resolves to survive.

(cw: slavery)

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Rog hammered the glowing piece of metal furiously. He hated it and he hated his captors for making him hate it.

He’d found such joy in making things from copper and bronze and iron — as one of the few in his community. It had been important work, it had been art! They’d taken it from him and turned it into a vile thing. They forced him to make weapons to kill his kin.

He growled when a whip licked his back, but not too loudly. He did not want to end up in the fighting pits and be changed into one of Them.

He hardened his heart.

He would live.

He would escape.

He would make them pay.

Anto - Mouth

Celegorm watches Curufin give a speech.

(cw: non-explicit incest; sexual thoughts)

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Celegorm watched his brother talking to the crowd. He loved seeing him on a stage, the argumens he made weren’t important to him -- and how Curufin would scold him, if he could hear him think that -- it was the way he moved and reacted to the crowd’s moods, making them dance to his tune.

There was that little smirk around his lips that told Celegorm he was pleased with how things were going. Celegorm’s mind wandered while he watched — fantasising about what he’d do to that perfect mouth later. The sounds he’d draw from Curufin’s lips. No one knew what filthy things could come out of that mouth. No one but him. 

He shifted in his seat when his body reacted. Later. Later he’d get a private performance

Arda - World, Solar System

Narvi and Celebrimbor have a discussion about the shape of the world.

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Celebrimbor looked up at the ceiling, marvelling at the craftsmanship and beauty. Huge orbs of metal and preciou stones slowly rotated on circular tracks around a golden globe in their midst.

“Amazing, eh? It’s one of King Dúrin’s pet projects”, Narvi said and stroked her beard with a sly smile. She could see that her friend was trying to make sense of it.

“But… you think Anar is in the centre of Arda?”, he asked, sounding scandalised.

“Oh yes”, Narvi grinned at him. “I know it must sound like heresy to you, but some calculations work so much better that way. It must be true. Middle-earth is not flat, either, by the way.” She pointed at an iron globe inlaid with lapislazuli for the Sea, representing their planet.

Celebrimbor shook his head. “But… we were told how the Sun and Moon were made! You must have it wrong!”

“Maybe you just didn’t understand everything right”, Narvi said mildly.

It always felt a little strange to her to hear Celebrimbor speak of the Powers like someone you could meet on the town square.

Her people had had to make sense of the workings of the world for all their existence. She sometimes thought the elves were a bit limited in their explorations, because they tended to think of the things they had learned in Aman as absolute truth. But she didn’t want to get into a religious fight with her friend. She wanted him to see what they had learned.

“Let me show you some of our calculations.”

Vilya - Sky

Elrond gets to know his ring.

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Elrond looked at the ring in his hand. He’d never worn it before. It had never been meant for him. His heart ached with grief when he thought of his dead friend.

Gil-galad had died for them, to defeat Sauron, and had ordered that the ring be given to Elrond.

The sapphire blinked at Elrond, beckoned him to slip it on. It had been too dangerous while Sauron was in power — to his knowledge, Gil-galad had never used it — but now… even with Sauron not completely destroyed… Galadtriel thought it safe.

Though he was well aware that his cousin had her own ideas on how to use her ring.

Elrond took a deep breath and put Vilya on his finger. Something deep inside him, he’d always known was there but had never been able to reach, woke up and stretched.

He could see the air move around him. He could hear the waters of the Bruinen sing to him. He Understood. She would protect them, if he asked her and the air would be their shield, making them invisible to enemies. And it would make them untouched by time — Ageless and Changeless — if he wished it. Imladris could be a place where they could live forever in a timeless peace.

No, Elrond shook his head. Safety and protection, yes, that he could use. But he did not wish for un-change. He wanted to experience the changing of the seasons, the passage of time — even if it hurt. It was life. It was why he’d stayed here when the Valar had asked them to go home.

This was his home until it needed him no longer. And he wanted it to live.

Elrond took Vilya off. He would have to train and be careful how to use it.

Celebrimbor had made something powerful and dangerous.

Anca - Jaws

Mairon finds an interesting animal.

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Mairon sat on the thick bough of a tree that leaned out over the water of the slow flowing river.

The air was hot and moist so far south, it warmed him to the depth of his bones and he wished Melkor had built his fortress here instead of in the cold north.

He was watching a large reptile floating motionless in the water, its rigged, green-grey scales flecked with sunlight. It looked like a mossy log.

The deer walking towards the river to drink didn’t notice the danger lurking close to it.

Mairon tensed, trying not to move when the crocodile burst into motion. The huge jaws snapped open, showing pointy teeth, they clamped around the deer and dragged it under in a spray of water.

Mairon felt a shiver run through his body at the sight of so much power. He needed to tell Melkor about this. It would be perfect breeding stock for his new creatures.

Malta - Gold

Glorfindel receives a gift from his lover.

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“Close your eyes”, Ecthelion said to him and Glorfindel complied with a smile. It was their anniversary and his lover liked to play games about his gifts.

He heard the thinkling of metal and felt a cool weight laid around his neck. Ecthelion took his hand and led him through the room. When they stopped, Glorfindel leaned against him, curious about his present, but also very much enjoying the closeness.

“Look”, Ecthelion whispered into his ear.

“Oh!” Glorfindel touched one of the golden flowers of the necklace with his fingertips.

“A wreath of golden flowers for my golden elf", Ecthelion said and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you! It is beautiful!” The golden petals were so intricate they looked almost lifelike, not two where the same shape. Glorfindel turned around and laid his arms around Ecthelion’s neck. “I love you.”

Noldo

Gil-galad visits the Greenwood and Oropher is not happy.

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Oropher glared daggers at the King of the Noldor, who was talking animatedly to his son. Gil-galad had come himself to sign the treaty. Soon they would go to war against Sauron, but for now he had to deal with the delegation of Noldor in his kingdom.

He hated it. He did not trust them. Never trust a Noldo not to stab you in the back! The only reason he’d allowed relations to open up was that he feared Sauron more.

He had not meant it as an invitation to seduce his son!

Oropher ground his teeth when Thranduil laughed at something the Noldo had said. He knew his son. He knew when his actions were just politeness - and this was not it. His son liked the Noldo. He’d have to give him a stern reminder of the Noldor’s crimes.

Oropher waved at an attendant. “Bring me my son.”

Nwalme - Torment

Celebrimbor awaits his torture.

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Celebrimbor could not take his eyes off Annatars hands. He was slowly laying out his instruments, explaining calmly how they would be used in his coming torment.

Celebrimbor was trembling, scared as he had never been in his life. Scared of the pain and what it would do to him. (He remembered his uncle’s scars and how much he’d been changed after his return from Angband.) Scared of prooving too weak.

He must not talk! For the sake of all the Free Peoples, Sauron could never know where the rings were hidden.

He had learned a thing or two from Finrod. Sauron might find all but the Three -- the ones Celebrimbor had made alone.

But the Three were hidden and only Celebrimbor could tell him where.

He must not.

He steeled himself for the pain.

Vala

Osse is discontent and Mairon offers another way to him.

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What makes a Vala?, Osse thought, watching Ulmo in envy. Why am I to serve him? We all come from Eru’s thought and I am not much less powerful than he.

“I know what you think”, Mairon said softly to him. “I feel the same. I too am not happy being forced into servitude to another.”

“But what can we do?”, Osse said. Fire and Water did not usually go well together, but he’d always felt a strange affinity towards Mairon. “They have chosen their stance. They won’t allow us to ascend.”

“Turn away, choose another. One who would let us have more autonomy.”

“Him?” Osse curled his lips. “What could he offer me? He is at war with the Sea.”

“Not the Sea, just Ulmo.”

There was a light in Mairon’s eyes as he spoke of Melkor and the power they could have in his service.

Osse shook his head. “But it would be service again, an autonomy granted by him.”

“Isn’t that better than always being on a leash.”

“Maybe.” Osse sighed. “I’ll think on it.”

Mairon nodded. “Not for too long, my friend, I hope.”

Ròmen - East

Arien sets and receives new instructions.

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Arien let her sun-boat sink towards the Ekkaia and settled lightly on its insubstantial waves. She smiled at Eonwe who was waiting for her on the shore.

Twice had she made the journey across the sky. From West to East and back.

“Greetings, Arien”, Eonwe said in what she thought of as his herald’s voice. “I have a message for you: Henceforward you are not to alternate your course, but only rise in the East and set in the West. You will make your journey East by way of Ulmo’s realm under the Earth.”

Arien lifted a fiery eyebrow. “Why?”

Eonwe coughed. “Our Lords and Ladies think it best to give Tilion less chance to come too close to you.”

“Good!” She really didn’t want the hunter’s attention.

Eonwe stepped closer, shielding his eyes against her glow. “I’ll wait for you every day, dearest sister.”

She smiled and blew him a kiss. She missed being able to touch him, but not as much as she loved the fire she had bathed in and the freedom of the sun-ship.

She looked forward to the new adventure of travelling underground.

Súle - Spirit

Feanor makes the Silmarils.

Read Súle - Spirit

Feanor took one of the empty gems in his hands. He was trembling with excitement. He was only steps away from finishing the greatest work he’d ever make — anyone would ever make!

He channelled his will and breathed on the gem-case in his hands, imbuing it with strength and power to hold the Light. The Treelight he’d asked from Varda stood ready and he poured it slowly into the case.

Feanor held his breath. It was Treelight and yet not, sparkling and dancing inside its new home, touching his fea, almost feeling alive.

“Silmaril”, he said softly, the name coming to his mind on its own.

Carefully he put the Jewel down to finish its brethren.

Hwesta - Breeze

Elros dreams.

Read Hwesta - Breeze

He was flying, the wind ruffled his feathers and sang to him of a large world with so many things to see. He wanted to follow it, but he was too small — afraid of the sea that lay between here and there. His tiny feet clung to a reed waving gently in the breeze.

Elros woke with a start. He needed a moment to remember that he had no feathers, no wings. The early morning light shone through the windows, curtains blowing in a salty breeze.

He had known the consequences of choosing the fate of Men. He was mortal now, however long lived. But he still could feel something inside him. Something that longed for wings. Something wild.

Melian’s gift, he thought. But he’d chosen the gift of Men instead and the salty breeze could not carry him away.

Hwesta Sindarinwa - Breeze, Sindarin

Lalwen let Círdan convince her to make a boat trip.

Read Hwesta Sindarinwa - Breeze, Sindarin

Lalwen was clinging to the rail of the little sail-boat. The waves were high and each skip of the boat made her insides roil. She closed her eyes to fend off the queasiness but quickly opened them again when it just made matters worse.

“Are you alright?”, Círdan asked, sounding far too happy about the situation.

“Fine”, she growled, regretting her choices. “You said it was just a light breeze!”

“But it is!” Círdan laughed and did something to the ship that made it turn direction. “We’ll reach calmer waters soon”, he promised.

Lalwen dearly hoped that his 'soon' and her 'soon' weren’t as different as a Noldorin breeze and a Sindarin breeze.

Tinco - Metal

An elf and a dwarf meet to trade goods.

Read Tinco - Metal

The knife glinted in the light of the fire. Arasso accepted it gingerly from the hands of the dwarf. It looked sharp like his own stone blade, but the edge was even not chipped off. He wondered how it was made.

“What material is this?”, he asked.

They had stone blades and arrow tips and pots of clay. They sometimes traded for copper cooking pots and silver belt buckles with the dwarves, but this looked different.

“It’s steel, a metal.” The word meant nothing to Arasso, but he knew the dwarf would not tell him things he considered secrets of his people.

He tried the knife on the meat he’d brought to the meeting, it sliced through it easily.

“It won’t break like your stone blades.”

“And you will trade with me for it?” Arasso opened his satchel and after a moment’s thought reached deep inside. He knew this was worth more than the usual things they traded with the dwarves — pelts and fruits and herbs. “I offer you this.” He showed the dwarf a big chunk of amber. He’d been carrying it around for quite a while, thinking it pretty, and was sad to lose it, but the knife of steel was worth it.

They haggled for a bit, Arasso adding a bunch of apples and a small pot of herb paste until they came to an agreement.

Arasso slipped his new knife into his belt. It would serve him well.

Ando - Gate

After the Nirnaeth, Maeglin designs a new gate.

Read Ando - Gate

Maeglin spread out the parchment on his desk and weighed it down with some uncut pieces of half-precious stones he’d found and thought interesting.

Feverishly he started to design a gate. Tall and strong and menacing it should be. The last line of defence, when all others had given way.

One might say, Gondolin already had more than enough gates, but after the Nirnaeth… the horror stuck deep in Maeglin’s bones. The battle had been brutal — blood everywhere.

He shuddered and continued to draw.

The armies of Morgoth must not break through! He would see to it that they were save.

Úre - Heat

Azaghal and Maedhros take a bath.

Read Úre - Heat

Azaghal sighed deeply when he let himself sink into the scalding hot water of the natural spring.

“Come in, elf”, he said to his visitor who was hanging back.

He’d silently made accommodations for him, brightening the usually sparsely lit cave with extra lamps. He’d seen Maedhros nervous in dark places before and did not wish to cause him discomfort. He hoped, in fact, that the healing water would ease his aches. It always helped him with tense muscles.

Maedhros looked even tenser than usual when he stepped closer and Azaghal wondered if elves had a thing about being naked before others or if it was something else. He didn’t ask but filed it away for later. His friend was sometimes a little jumpy about seemingly innocent questions.

Maedhros carefully lowered himself into the water and groaned. His eyes closed in bliss and Azaghal had the pleasure to see his right shoulder lower almost as far as his left. He knew it pained Maedhros, though he never complained.

“This is awesome!”

Azaghal chuckled. “Isn’t it? I bet you don’t have anything like this at home.”

Maedhros smiled wryly. “No. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“You’re welcome, elf.” He liked him, if all elves where a bit more like Maedhros, they’d get along far better, Azaghal thought.