Fate's IronyA wisp of dying smoke writhes through the dawn. Briefly flitting before my blood-filled vision, it swills my senses in acridness.
I pause. And take a deep breath, filling my cracked lungs to their screeching brim. The smoke stings; perhaps this will be the last breath I can withstand. But I don't care. In my mind, I reach out and out, towards the pain, because it means to me only one thing: victory.
It started with the end.
"I'm glad you're here."
He didn't smile back; he usually did. I clapped his back; he didn't react. Instead, he breathed tremulously out into the frosty, night air.
"What's the matter?" He didn't look at me. No, he couldn't look at me; he was avoiding my gaze like…like a man ashamed of something.
"Thanil, look at me." If my blood brother couldn't even look at me, what did that mean? "Thanil!" He finally turned round and looked mildly surprised to see me there, as if he'd only just heard my anxious voice right next to his ear.
"What's the matter?"
Eol of DoriathEol of DoriathEol of Doriath7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
The Khazad oft tell stories
To pass away the time
Of lords and kings and dragons,
Of rhythm and of rhyme
And if you are invited
Down their steep and craggy paths,
The Dwarves might tell the story
Of Eol of Doriath.
A prince he was of Kingdom old,
Beautiful and proud
Younger brother of Fingollo
He stood out in any crowd
Yet darkness clung onto Eol
As flowers cling to life,
As beautiful as he was dark,
Eol was wrought with strife.
Proud Gondolin of seven names,
That city, it will fall
And you, Eol of Doriath
Will augment it all.
A child of your darker blood
Will one day meet with light.
Love will eat his very core
And strike with knives of night.
So spoke a Seer one dark day
To Fingollos younger brother;
Eol could not believe it so,
But ran from his childs mother.
His flight from Doriath was swift,
As yet without sin, but a plan to atone;
The simplest way to keep Gondolin safe
Was to ever be alone.
The Morquendi w