Maedhros: Son of FireHe was the fire
Wine until bottom
And pain of fame
He was my father
His anger like flood
We sealed our Oath
In fire and blood
The flame extinguished
By Oath we're still bound
Through tears and pain
No rest to be found
The blood on my hands
And my hand in chains
What was it for
When nothing remains?
The Light we sought, burns
So close, yet so far
We are not worthy
To touch a star
Burning flame, take me
And clean the stain
Take the cursed Jewel
And end my pain!
In fire it started
In fire it ends
Just like my father
The fire in my veins
Shades of GreySummary: Manwë visits Melkor in the Void, and finds pity for the former enemy in his heart. Sometimes, there are shades of grey between white and black...Shades of Grey4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Disclaimer: Just Retelling Reuel's Tales
Beta reader: Cairistiona
It was cold here, upon Taniquetil. The air was thin, and the snow on the peak never melted. The wind didn't blow. It was peaceful, serene a white silence stretching through the halls of Ilmarin. There, high above all, Manwë sat on his throne, and his sight was directed to the east. The threat to Middle-earth has been destroyed. The One Ring has been melted in the fires of Orodruin, and a new age began. Change could be felt all over the world. And yet the expression of the Elder King was not one of joy. His all-seeing eyes were half-closed, focused not on the happening in the world, but something else. A memory, maybe. Then h
Shadows of Nan ElmothO golden cage of Gondolin, is covetousness a crime?Shadows of Nan Elmoth2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Behind the bars a bird felt freedom for first time
Aredhel Ar-Feiniel and Eöl, elven smith
Found wonder in the woods, between branches didn’t breathe
As she in the shade stood he saw her beauty bloom
Love piercing as a lance in the gathering gloom
Her freedom loving heart in shadows shimmers light
J. R. R. TolkienJust see who entersJ. R. R. Tolkien3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
the realm of dreams
that none have seen
legends of old
Molding them into
Reaping the fruits
that in his mind grow
to rivers of words
that from his pen flow
Travel through the lands,
follow the dream
He gives you his hand...
Enter with him!
Of Names and DecisionsFair child without sorrowOf Names and Decisions2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Is your life hollow,
Dreams are just small seeds
Adventures, great deeds
Ripen long since…
A burning fire
That’s your desire:
Onwards without wince
In the light of Two Trees
Noon of Valinor's bliss
Over the wide sea, though
Lie the lands you don't know
Distant and wild
Oh, eager child...
Faithful and steady
Is you oath ready,
Reaping the visions
Of your decisions
Darkness will sink
For the oath spoken
A new hope is born
Grief of those who mourn
Up to sky flew
New day is coming
Dawning in blue
The Ride of OromeThe stars were young upon the heaven’s domeThe Ride of Orome2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and darkness dwelt under the shade of trees
and in the darkness evil creatures roamed,
when a horn sounded clear and pure in breeze.
Like thunder rode there Béma on his steed
and Nahar's mane shone bright with silver light:
glistening dream, the music of his feet,
before them fled the creatures of the night.
Now hoofbeats silenced, Béma rides no more
in Middle-earth under the rays of Sun,
but Nahar's children still stay on this shore
and on the grass of Rohan freely run.
The lords of horses, Mearas free and strong,
the steeds of kings that came out of a song.
Ships of AlqualondeThe song of waters sounded clear and sweetShips of Alqualonde2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
In light of Trees before its brightness dimmed
There white wood was with foaming sea-waves rimmed
The swiftest swan-ships in a mighty fleet
The sails were woven with a silver thread
As they sailed proudly through the storms and wind
Like graceful swans their prows were shaped, flanks winged
No better ship could sailor ever meet
Now white planks reddened with the Elven blood
In Swanhaven under the darkened sky
Where ships were taken together with lives
Then sky in Losgar reddened like rose bud
The fires rose on shores where the gulls cry
To Alqualondë only ash arrives
Dead MarshesOnce armies proud,Dead Marshes2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
their enemies vile
Once armies proud,
now they rest in a mire
Side by side lie
noble Elf with a Man
Side by side lie
Orcs from a dark den
In dreamless sleep
Forever they'll rest
In dreamless sleep
Hosts of East, hosts of West
The waters cold
Are their murky grave
The waters cold
Above soldiers brave
Dead faces in water
Some noble and sad
Dead faces in water
And mud is their bed
Cold and pale faces,
Both evil and fair
Cold and pale faces
With weed in their hair
All foul, all rotting
Lit by corpse-lights
All foul, all rotting,
You should not look in
Or you'll lose your wit
You should not look in
When the candles are lit
Turin TurambarYou want to be a master of your fateTurin Turambar2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And believe still that you can win this fight
But anger kills as surely as a blade
And so is dimmed for you Doriath's light
For king's judgement you did not want to wait
But fled instead - fugitive in the night
Wandering lost, you found men of the night
And joined with them, and shared their lonely fate
On Amon Rûdh you will for your friend wait
His love will guide him, make him join your fight
Then Bow and Helm will bring to these lands light
Until the bond is severed by the blade
The sword is black and cruel is its blade
When it cuts flesh in darkness of the night
What you have done, you'll see in flash of light
And understand the evil turn of fate
For it is not an enemy you fight
But Beleg's death that in your hands did wait
For other man the elven maid did wait
But love is as dangerous as a blade
That Gwindor sees, and gives up without fight
Then bridge was build, and dragon came in night
And so is sealed Nargothrond's tragic fate
In Pool o
Spark - chapter 2WordsSpark - chapter 22 years ago in Drama More Like This
Words and music. Two things that were so far removed that it took Maedhros a while to even realize they were there. His mind still did not understand them, but his heart did, at least in part. It recognized them as something to break through the endless cycle of painful heartbeats, and left him no say in the matter. He suddenly found that it had the music, and the words, as if it remembered them from a time long ago, though that seemed impossible. They came automatically, forcing themselves out of him with such strength that he couldn't hold them back. He sang the words, sang the music, without having any recollection of how to sing, or how to speak.
He fell silent with exhaustion, and found that not only his song, but also the other had stopped. There was no despair. He accepted it, as he had accepted everything for so long, until a voice cried out to him.
He stood there, a spectre from a different life, a tiny figure cut out from paper and stuck into the wrong picture,
Yavanna's lullabyBeloved children, you must sleepYavanna's lullaby2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
In a sleep dreamless and deep
The black night fell
Like evil spell,
But you will your strength keep
Darkness spread over the land
The Lamps that fell we cannot mend
With poisoned sting
Now Arda's Spring
Has ended, its time spent
Close your eyes and do not fear
To my heart you are most dear
When you wake
The night will break
Sky again will be clear
Rest under the wings of night
So you can wake in new light
A tree or weed
When land again is bright
Spark - chapter 5StrengthSpark - chapter 52 years ago in Drama More Like This
"So Fingon has told you."
"I found out on my own."
"We thought it would be best not to tell you until you were stronger."
"That would have been quite a feat."
Maglor shot his older brother an almost anxious glance, not asking the next question: So how did you take it?
Maedhros was sitting up in bed again, propped up against pillows, as he had almost all the time since the previous day. His back, shoulder and arm weren't taking it well, but he was determined not to give up any hard-earned ground. Sitting up had meant having his right arm in plain sight for twenty-four hours. He had risen to the challenge, having spent most of that time staring at the stump, trying to accept that it was a part of him now.
He could not deny that the discovery that he was maimed had left him badly shaken. It had cast a doubt on every single thing that he had been clinging to since first realising that his ordeal was over. Revenge. Strength. Normality. Fingon's reac
Eala EarendelSleep, my child...Eala Earendel2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Close your eyes under the blanket of night
A little longer
A little more time
Until you know how unfair the fate has been to you
Until you know what time you have been born into
Sleep, my child...
In sweet ignorance of dreams
Just for a while longer you can be
Like the Lords of the West who do not care
For you, for us
For your unfair fate
Sleep, my child,
Do not be angry at me
For bringing you into this dark world
Where hope is far and future dimmed
By the black wings of smoke
Look, my child!
A new star is rising!
Sailing on the waves of sky
A holy flame
A spark to ignite new hope for tomorrow
They did not forget...
Éala Éarendel engla beorhtast
Ofer middangeard monnum sended!
Spark - chapter 3GuiltSpark - chapter 32 years ago in Drama More Like This
Turgon's voice was cold. It was always cold when Maedhros heard him speak, which was seldom. Fingolfin's and most of the others' were usually rather flat around him, even the healers'.
"His brother is at the gate."
Fingon turned from his chair at Maedhros' bed to look at his brother standing in the door. "Which of them?" he asked in surprise.
Turgon laughed without humour. "Does it matter?"
"It does. Can you imagine Caranthir walking through our camp? There'd be blood."
"It's Maglor. So there probably won't be blood. Not that he'd deserve it any less." Turgon's voice was dark with resentment. "Atar allowed him to pass. Mainly because he had the decency to request, not to demand."
"Leave him in peace," Fingon said wearily. "He is here to see his brother, no more."
"Why did you have to bring him here?" Turgon said bitterly. "He's got more than enough brothers on the other side of the lake whom it wouldn't hurt to have their share in nursing him back to health."
The Grace Given to MeThe Lord of the Rings fanfiction: How do you know that today is the day to die? How do you spend your last day? The thoughts of Aragorn.The Grace Given to Me4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
It is time. I know it just as the birds know when to obey the calling of the wind and fly away from the cold lands to feel the sunrays on their wings again. I know it just as the tree knows when to say farewell to its leaves, watching them flutter to the ground one by one and giving something of itself with every leaf. I know that my time has come.
Sometimes I wondered how I would recognize it. How does a man know that he has reached the point where he can leave with dignity and greatness like the kings of old? How does he know that today is the day to die? It could be tomorrow and tomorrow again. One more day not for myself, but for the ones that I love. How can I leave them to grieving? How many times was I near death and only their love returned me to life, showed me the way through the shadows? How can I abandon the
Spark - final chapterBurdenSpark - final chapter2 years ago in Drama More Like This
The lake-shore lay under several inches of snow, the lake frozen and covered with a white blanket. Maedhros sat leaning against the trunk of a leafless willow, whose branches vanished into the ice, hung with glittering icicles like glass beads. The sinking sun threw long-fingered shadows across the icy lake and frozen fields, creeping behind the Mountains of Mithrim in the west, in what felt to Maedhros like a constant reminder that no hope would come from that direction.
He was wrapped in a warm cloak against the cold, his right arm in a sling to prevent him from jolting movements. The stump was still tender to the touch, but he knew that, in time, it would heal completely.
The lake lay to his right, the last rays of sunlight turning it into a glittering spectacle trying to catch his eye, but he was not looking at it. His gaze was to the northeast.
There, across the peaks of Ered Wethrin, lay Angband. The day had been grey and cloudy, so he could barely make out the moun
Look into my EyesOf my all forms, there is only one left. Of all my senses, I use only one. I don't remember the taste of wine in Valmar. I don't remember the feel of the hammer and anvil in my hands. I don't remember the sound of the Song I sang once, before Arda came into being. I see. I see the doom nearing. It walks with soft steps into the very heart of my realm, and I know it's too late already.Look into my Eyes4 years ago in Fanfic - Through Darker Eyes More Like This
"I have come. But I do not choose now to do what I came to do. I will not do this deed. The Ring is mine!"
The centuries of watching, and yet I didn't see this coming. I know this form will not hold much longer, and so I look for the last time. Because that's what I am. Never sleeping, always burning with the devouring flame of my spirit. The Lidless Eye.
I look to the West. That is where you dwell on your lofty thrones. Manwë and Varda, even Aulë, once my teacher and master and none of you understand! No, you are not my King any longer, Súlimo, traitor of your
Spark - chapter 4MaimedSpark - chapter 42 years ago in Drama More Like This
His broken shoulder was finally healing. The healers had expressed their amazement at the fact, but for Maedhros, it didn't bring that much of a change for the better. Progress and healing were still slow. He could turn his head without passing out from dizziness, and he found he could even move his right arm again, but it felt so strange, alien, and raw, that he mostly remained lying the way he was, still enduring them doing almost everything for him. And there was something else, a nagging fear of something unspoken. He had not had a look at his right hand in all this time.
"What aren't you telling me?" he finally found the courage to ask Fingon one evening, after the bandages were changed and the healer had left.
Fingon became just a bit too preoccupied with rearranging the covers. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"My hand won't heal, will it?"
Fingon looked down at his hands. It was slightly more difficult to read his face when he was not meeting Maedhros' eyes.
"Don't lie to m
The Ride of RohirrimThe beacons litThe Ride of Rohirrim4 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
The oath gives speed
Horses and riders tall
The sparkling shield
On bloody field
We answer Gondor's call!
Kisses to wives
The last goodbyes
Who returns, we don't know
This is the day
When we can't stay
The King calls, we follow
The sea of spears
The sun sheds tears
Eorlingas ride to war
To the red day
To glory, fame
In the ancestors' hall!
Thoughts...They wondered about him, he knew that. They couldn't understand why such a smart man, a genius some of them called him, would be that alone, but still be happy about it. And they didn't know that he really wasn't happy, that it was all an act that he put on, his last and greatest performance.Thoughts...3 years ago in Drama More Like This
He had lost everybody now, there was nobody left that he could hold on to, that he could watch. Elrond's sons had finally sailed with their grandfather earlier in the day, and he was now all alone. Of course, they had never known he was watching them, that they were all he had that kept him from completely losing himself in his thoughts, his thoughts that just wouldn't shut up, and that kept replaying in his mind, tormenting him with everything that he had ever done or said that had caused others to disapprove of him, but really what else was there for him to hold onto? All the happy memories in the world couldn't keep his thoughts away. His singing was the only thing that did that, but when he sa
Sand and MusicSand and MusicSand and Music3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He feels he cannot walk another step, until he does. The next step is the same, and the next, and he has stopped counting the sunsets and sunrises because measuring eternity has no purpose. He has wandered an eternity already, carrying his small harp for some indeterminable, compulsive reason, because it will be years before he can play again, if ever, and the sand blows into his eyes and into his throat as he sings. His hands are burnt and scarred and his voice is hoarse, and he wants to rip the strings from the taunting harp and scream, but he is unable to do either because it hurts too much.
Every muscle that has been on fire begins to numb from sheer fatigue, and he feels that he will die without food but is too weak from walking to fish or hunt- but then, Maitimo survived thirty-some years without food, didn't he- and now he is thinking of Maitimo again and he swore to himself that he would not think of them right now.&
Music of AinurCreate and sing!Music of Ainur2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Your mind has wings from Music wrought
In an eye's blink to being brought in Timeless Hall
What you can think to the last dot, that I will call to make a world
The horse's trott, the fir-trees tall, the heat and cold
The creatures small, and big and bold
Hobbit limerickThere was once a director of the HobbitHobbit limerick2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
when filming LotR, he used to quite crop it.
The profit is free,
so let's make movies three:
that was the way he now saw it.
SparkAll light had failed.Spark2 years ago in Drama More Like This
There was only darkness. Darkness, and him, and the pain. The pain was the only thing that was not dark. When Maedhros closed his eyes, the pain even blocked out the darkness, drowning it, mostly red, sometimes white.
There were no stars; even they had failed. Maybe they were still there somewhere, above the reeking fumes and smokes of the furnaces of Angband. Maybe they were already gone. Maybe the world was already gone. He had no way of knowing. Sometimes, it would rain, but the rain was black and oily, and it stank. There was no clean thing left in the world. It burned in his eyes and in the many wounds upon his body.
There were no voices, no sounds except the wind. The Orcs did not come up here. He thought that, ultimately, that was why they had chained him here. Down in the dungeons, even when they'd tortured him, there had still been something in him that had fought. Just seeing their faces had filled him with a burning fire of hatred, and the hatred had fu