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."
Thou shalt lead and I will follow. Saying those words, Nolofinwë had not guessed that his brother would lead him all the way to Antarctica.
A collection of short responses, both drabbles and ficlets, to the prompts for the Vintage challenge.
Glimpses of life in Aman, after the events of arriviste's void junk and Idrils_Scribe's Wings of White and Silver-grey.
“I would honor the customs of thy people, Andreth, and marry thee in the manner of thy people,” he said at last.
“And if I did not want to?” she asked, so soft she barely heard her own voice. “If I wished to marry thee in the manner of thy people?” Her voice trembled, but she held his gaze.
Aegnor drew in an uneven breath, swift and sharp. His gaze roved her face, tracing her features. When he spoke, his voice was rough but tender. “I would take thee away, to the south or east, and marry thee under the light of the stars. And there none would speak against our union. And I would be thine and thou would be mine in every way that there is.”
A summer evening spent in a glade near the shores of the Aeluin.
Erferil writes letters to someone who once was very dear to her.
And even if Amrûn cannot reply, the letters still comfort her.
Uinen moves, fluid as water, sinuous as a snake, her limbs – green-webbed fingers longer than fingers ought to be, skin decorated with the lumps of pale barnacles clinging to her, a body that is thick and feels strangely nurturing in a sense he does not quite understand, ending in a mass of squid-like tentacles each thicker than his legs – flowing like she is following her own current.
Ossë laughs, high and bright, and an elf-shaped hand darts into view, gripping his shoulder. The bruise beneath flares to life, hot and painful, and the best reminder than this is no drowning-dream.
He is fathoms below, dropped into the depths of the sea.
Maedhros cuts his hair off for the first time after Losgar, and never quite shakes the habit.
Or: Five hundred years of haircuts, give or take.
Fingon tries to keep a promise made long ago.
A fragment of a rohirric nursery rhyme, presumably about the death of prince Baldor.
The body wanted to look forward, however accustomed the spirit was to looking back.
Caught in a storm, Minastir and his brother take refuge on an island. There, a young lighthouse keeper lives alone. She shares room and board and much more...
Gwindor has returned after years of imprisonment and thralldom in Angband, but true homecoming continues to be difficult, a year on.
Finduilas, his betrothed, has tried to support him. Gwindor foresees that the strain will have an impact on their relationship.
The road of the High Pass is blocked by boulders, but an attempted negotiation with the stone giant responsible goes unexpectedly sideways.
Gondolin is finally ready to welcome its people.
Among the buzz of moving in, a long awaited reunion takes place.
Towards the middle of the Second Age, a young Dwarf of the Longbeard royal line seeks out answers to the mysterious visions and memories she has begun to see over her waking sight — the answer may be right in front of her, written plainly in the histories of Durin I and his reincarnation, Durin II, but does she have the strength to follow the thread and accept the truth?
Lindir is too good at music to be a nobody and young Arwen has a confused Lúthien complex. Crackship treated seriously.
Sometime in the Fourth Age, Maglor, wandering along the shore, comes across a dying orc.
This leads him to question some of his beliefs and reconsider earlier experiences.
The Feanorians leave blood and ash in their wake, and Thranduil searches for Elrond and Elros in the wreckage of the Havens.
The Third Kinslaying: the calm before the storm and the aftereffects.
A Hobbit lass off on an adventure in the East stumbles across a captive Maglor. Further adventures ensue.
Maedhros never stopped thinking of little cousin Finrod as the Elfling who followed him around pulling at his robes and playing games. Finrod was happy to keep it that way, but Maedhros was bound to find out about the parties someday.
In his youth, Thranduil went on a diplomatic mission to Nargothrond on behalf of Elu Thingol. His report on the trip was remarkably brief.
Finrod was like another little brother to him.
The sundering of the Noldor was bound to leave scars.
As Dior lays dying, yearning to reach twin boys taken from his care, something deep within him cracks and slams into place. There's more of his grandmother Melian in him that he ever thought he would inherit.