Fire in Four Quarters by sallysavestheday

| | |

Fanwork Notes

Inspired by the tengwar for the cardinal directions: numen, formen, rómen, hyarmen. Alas, there is no place that is truly safe. With the right kindling, everything burns.

Fanwork Information

Summary:

For the Tengwar challenge, four poems in which Beleriand and Middle-Earth are threatened by flames (once from each cardinal direction).

Major Characters:

Major Relationships:

Genre: Poetry

Challenges: Tengwar

Rating: General

Warnings:

Chapters: 4 Word Count: 339
Posted on 1 May 2024 Updated on 1 May 2024

This fanwork is complete.

North (formen): Bragollach

Read North (formen): Bragollach

Who knew fire

could run like water,

slinking and slithering its way

across the plains,

lapping up every

nest and

wallow and

sliding into every den,

scalding

with its wet,

red,

tongue?

 

Ah,

how the pines of

Dorthonion

kindled,

the sweet pitch of

their hearts

blown

up and

out,

crisping and

drifting

on the burning air,

ash falling like confetti

at the end of some grim,

incendiary

ball.

 

But

voices

yet sing in the scorched woods,

on the burnt plains.

Ghostly minstrels

still spit defiance,

weaving

a bitter harmony

with the gritty wind,

cursing Morgoth,

refusing Mandos,

howling and mourning

through the memory of

their cracked and

blistered

lips.

East (rómen): The Lands Beyond

Read East (rómen): The Lands Beyond

The first Men

to cross the mountains

murmur tales of

drought,

of hills bleached to sand,

meadows dried and

dulled until they

flare like tinder to a

thoughtless spark.

Their hollow eyes

remember the pale

bones of herds

and flocks too great

to water, fields

left fallow,

abandoned hearths.

 

Finrod listens.

 

In his mind’s eye

sweet Cuiviénen’s hollow

lies sere and dry,

the pale earth

cracking,

revealing bones

where once were

stars.

South (hyarmen): Slaves

Read South (hyarmen): Slaves

The Men of Umbar haul

in others’ traces.

Named lesser and

lower,

passed from

fist to fist,

from one armed lord

to another, like working

beasts:

so many hands,

so many backs,

so many ships.

 

To raise a proud head

risks losing it;

to speak in their own

language

ends with tongues clipped.

But -- even from the

droning depths

of misery --

all hearts yearn.

 

Is it truly

any wonder

that,

whispering on their

secret altars,

dark flames burn?

West (numen): Durin's Doors

Read West (numen): Durin's Doors

The sinking sun

kindles the gate-stream,

sets alight the hauberks

of the doorwardens

dicing and laughing under the hollies.

Light spreads its gilded fingers

over the threshold

where the doors

stand

ever open,

welcoming.

The guards’ abandoned halberds

flash and flare –

their shadows

thrown across the gate,

lengthening

as the sky burns

and spills scarlet

across the white stones

of the road

to Ost-in-Edhil:

that city of friends

from which nothing

evil

ever comes.


Comments

The Silmarillion Writers' Guild is more than just an archive--we are a community! If you enjoy a fanwork or enjoy a creator's work, please consider letting them know in a comment.


Ghostly minstrels / still spit defiance,

Ooohhh this gave me chills

through the memory of / their cracked and / blistered / lips.

Beautifully agonizing </3

Finrod listens.

Right to the heart.  The sorrows Men carry become Finrod's sorrows also, a shared history of their origins. 

I love Tolkien but his takes on the Easterlings and Southrons and other "lesser" men stick in my craw. Umbar in particular as an outpost of corrupted Numenor and then later the haunt of Castamir's sons and a center of piracy is a bitter portrait. So this asks, what does such treatment of others reap, in the end?