Sprinkles of Snow by Tamatoa

"Woodsmoke"

From Elleth.

Finrod lies on his back atop his favorite small hill. Technically, it is a roof. Specifically, it is the roof of the rooms beside Finrod’s where Edrahil stays. If he rolls on his side and presses his ear where the ground is thinnest, he is certain he could hear his friend singing as he sews.

Now, however, he looks to the dark sky. Woodsmoke twines away, tangling with itself like a shroud caught in the wind.

The fire is blue, now, burning through the spark-powder Finrod had dumped on it. These colors are for sad nights, when the memories of those who gave him these colors are much too close.