Sand and MusicSand and Music
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.&
It's not them...."It's not really them you hate, is it Feanor?" the words came surrounding him in the Halls. Desperately, he tried to avoid them. "Now, Feanor, you know you can't avoid me."It's not them....3 years ago in Drama More Like This
"Why can't I, Lord Namo?" Feanor said, dodging into another portion of the Halls.
"Because these are my halls, young one, and you won't be able to go much farther," Feanor just knew that Namo was taunting him with those words. Indeed, the second he tried to lose Namo again, he found his way blocked. There was no way to move any further. So, instead, he resolutely stared at the wall and decided to block anything Namo had to say from mind.
"So, Feanor, you're still deciding to delude yourself? You understand this is the only thing standing in your way of true healing," Feanor resolutely refused to answer.
"Very well then, we'll do this the difficult way. I'll talk, and you'll stay here and try to ignore everything I say." Namo gestured, and a chair appeared in the room for him to sit in. "You, throughout your life, ha
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
It technically wasn't a sword...“Now, love, is that really necessary?” Lord Celeborn said as he jumped backwards, into the light. “I came all this way – walking from Alquolande, because your grandfather refused to let me borrow a horse – and you greet me with a sword.”It technically wasn't a sword...3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Galadriel dropped the knife she was holding, and raised her arms like she was going to throw them around him, before letting them fall back to her sides. “It technically wasn’t a sword.”
“It wasn’t? Very well, I came all this way, only for you to greet me with a knife,” he teased, the corner of his mouth curling upwards.
“You broke in through my window,” she pointed out.
“I did not break anything. Your window was open and I crawled through it. Besides, would you have rather I woke everyone in the house up, had several altercations with your family about how long it took me to arrive, and then we would finally have been left on our own several hours
Celeborn and Galadriel: 1. IntroductionThe first time you see him, he is gracefully moving so as not to bump into you. He doesn't stop to acknowledge you as courtesy requires, but you can see he's in a hurry. Later you learn that he has just come back from patrolling the forests, bearing urgent news to Elu Thingol's ears alone. You also learn he is dividing his time mostly between counseling Thingol and captain duties.Celeborn and Galadriel: 1. Introduction3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
When you're finally introduced he is clean, his bright silver hair straight and unbraided and his eyes have a depth of wisdom to them, even though he is relatively young. "I apologize, Lady, for so rudely ignoring you," he says politely; you smile and nod your acceptance. He walks away.
You see her in the library one morning, gazing into the room, eyes unseeing. Anor has caught her hair, making it even more brilliant then it seemed in the torch-lit hall. You keep watching her for a time, till you realize the line you thought was the shadow of a tree is a tears' stain. Silently you disappear, guessing (rig
AtarIn later days, when Maglor lingered on the sea shore by himself, as the winter winds nipped at his fingers and made it even harder for him to play than it normally was, and thoughts entered his mind about hating winter, he would sometimes remember winters in the past. Before his brothers and father died, before the kinslayings, before the Silmarils had even been forged, and for a brief moment, the years would melt away and he would feel warm again. On those days, he did not remember the look on his brothers’ faces as they died, or the way his father had turned to ashes before their eyes. Instead, he remembered how when they were children they had believed in such silly stories as Atar Hrive and how indulgent his parents had been of their behavior on those days. It couldn’t have been easy, even after Maedhros and he had grown old enough to know better, and had started to help their father lay out the gifts that night, there had still been five of them to listen to.Atar3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Of Eru and Melkor"Why have you made us?" they asked, looking at their Creator with a mix of love and fear.Of Eru and Melkor1 year ago in Drama More Like This
"I wanted to create something of my own, something into which I had put my own thought, so that I could see it live and love it," said He. “And therefore I needed something that would guard it in my absence, so I created you, yet even you are the offsprings of my though."
They all had gathered around Him, around Eru. Closest to Him on his right side sat Melkor and on His left side sat Manwë, brothers, both dear to Him, (though one maybe a bit more so).
Brothers, but so very different. Melkor was more talented, more inquisitive, whereas Manwë was more kindhearted and more obedient.
"The Secret Fire powers you and its energy shall create Eä," He said.
"Can we use it to create something?" asked Melkor (sounding interested).
"The Secret Fire is not for you to use, and I have hidden it from all Eyes. It shall only be used indirectly to spring Life wit
The First SnowThe First Snow10 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
He climbed onto the tower top. Brisk, frosty air surrounded him. The landscape down the hill was covered with mist.
Winter morning in Himring.
And the first snow.
The floor was already well sprinkled with delicate snowflakes.
He wrapped his thick long shawl tighter around his shoulders and slowly put a bare foot on the snow. At first he felt nothing, his skin was still warmed with the bath. He followed with his other foot, nothing. A step forward. Still nothing. Silence. Calm.
Slowly he walked to the middle of the turret. Now he was starting to feel the chill and dampness under his feet but still it was not unpleasant.
Snowflakes were lazily drifting before his eyes. He wanted to reach out, to catch them, to hold them in his hand, but... He had only one hand. The attempts to hold his shawl with the stump nearly ended with the garment falling. All he could do was to reach out with the stump or...
Put his face towards it, as towards the Sun.
He closed his eyes. The first snowflakes gentl
The AdvisorHe said he had always liked crafting. Ever since he was very young he had been allowed to sit and watch the working of his father, his mother, his grandmother and her father, his grandfather... He spoke those names with some sadness but also indignation. Yet I could see that the education he had been given had made him immensely talented even when compared to his kin. I admired his talent greatly.The Advisor2 years ago in Drama More Like This
Celebrimbor of the Noldor was a master smith whom everybody admitted as being one of the great minds of the Second Age. At first I had only observed him from afar, but then I started to work alongside of him and saw that he truly was what people said of him. He was a smith, a friend of Dwarves, a Lord of the Gwaith-I-Mirdain. He was Celebrimbor Silverfist and I was his friend.
"What do you think?" he said with a grin - one those smiles he always has when he really had come up with something. "I came up with it last night and stayed up until morning light sketching them."
I was examining the d
Broken BondBroken BondBroken Bond4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The night in Aman is deathly still as I am shocked from my sleep by a horrible sensation- a feeling of loss and grief so acute it manifests as a searing physical pain in the core of my body. I am used to waking alone, for I have done so for centuries, but in my strange agony I panic and clutch the sheets as if I expect someone to be there.
As I writhe in anguished confusion in my bed, a memory comes unbidden to my mind.
Not long after we were left alone, I visited my half-sister in law, though I was unsure what words could or should pass between us. We sat at tea in long silence, when suddenly, her eyes went wide and she let out a wretched wail. The cup shattered in her hand and it began to bleed, but when I asked her why she cried, she whispered that she had felt her very heart tear itself from her breast.
Only days later, word came to us from the Valar that Fëanáro was dead.
As my pain resolves itse
Crossroads of Light and ShadowSummary: In a rainy night, Aragorn walks through the Midgewater marshes. But not all paths lead to good ends, and dark things lurk at the crossroads… A story with sound and visual effectsCrossroads of Light and Shadow2 years ago in Horror More Like This
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it is not mine. If you don't recognize it, it's probably not mine, either. Not even the Neekerbreekers…
My thanks to openmeadow for an inspiring chat about senses
Dedicated to all my friends that walked with me through mud and rain, and that were lost with me until we found ourselves again.
Crossroads of Light and Shadow
Squelch. With effort he pulled his boot from the mud. It left a deep footprint.
Squirsh. Murky water began to soak through the mud and fill it.
Blub.The surface closed. Besides a few bubbles on the dark surface, there was no trace of his passing.
Squish. Another step. A waft of something foul and rotten
Into DarknessHe knew he had died before he was dead, which was quite a strange notion. He had seen the horrified looks on his sons' faces, had felt his strength leave him. He had known the exact moment when his heart stopped beating and when his body crumbled into ash, to be blown about by the wind.Into Darkness4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
And he had known the exact moment when he understood that Morgoth would never be defeated by the Noldor. The curse that had escaped from his lips was filled with all the hatred and anger from the depths of his heart.
And then he was gone.
Curufinwë Fëanáro stood on a raised platform, surveying the long line of dead Souls. The line was straight, leading directly into large chamber. That was, he knew, where Mandos resided. That was where they were all going.
And that was where he was not going to go.
He would not go there for the Vala to tell him of his mistakes. He will not go there to receive punishment for the deeds he had committed. He would not go there to be told that he was wrong, an
A Letter to AmarieNargothrond, FA 465A Letter to Amarie3 years ago in Romance More Like This
My dearest Amarië!
I do not know if I still have the right to call you that - not "dearest", for you will ever remain the dearest one in this world to me, but "my"...
I still remember your face when we parted. That memory will be forever carved deeply into my mind. The pain in your eyes haunted me across the cruel ice of Helcaraxë, freezing my heart more than the wailing wind.
You did not weep. You knew I wouldn't be able to look at your tears. You knew I had to leave, and didn't want to make it harder to me. But the unshed tears fell like heavy stones into my soul.
You let me go.
I had to.
The new lands called to me with a voice of freedom and adventure. I could not stay behind. Both restlessness and responsibility to my people drew me forwards, into exile.
I don't regret my decision. It made me who I am now. Through hardship, I found purpose. I knew joy and pain, the thrill of battle, the headiness of vi
Like Moth to a FlameMelkor beholds the eldest son of Finwë in the white city of Tirion. He sees him approachhead held high, intricate robes billowing, hair braided with weaving gold and red. He sees him pass and feels the resonating power, the elegance and the confidence, and the wrath. He sees him leave, and hides a vicious smile seen by none.Like Moth to a Flame4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Melkor beholds the greatest creations of Curufinwë Fëanáro at a great feast before the Valar. He sees their dazzling, shining light of the Two Trees, and their perfect, rounded shape. He sees the dreams of the Valar and the hopes of the Elves, and the accursed Music of Eru resounds in his ears. But more than that, his eyes are drawn to that fair face with its fiery eyes and that zealous, prideful soul.
Melkor beholds the burning spirit of Fëanor as he watches him work in his forge. He sees the unquenchable pride and voracious determination, and the will and ability to succeed magnificently. He sees the burning wrath and the cold cruel
Sonnet- Maedhros to Fingon(Warning for mild slash)Sonnet- Maedhros to Fingon3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I met you as a child with plaited hair,
And wildness that I soon grew to adore.
Your ringing laughter echoed through the air
In joyous days when we did not know war.
Just when we felt our future was assured,
I lost you when our haven turned to black.
Through fire, ice, and shackles love endured-
You cut me out of hell and brought me back.
Since broken on the battlefield you lie,
What of my soul remains is now consumed
By guilt, for though I left you there to die,
My heart with yours will ever be entombed.
Without you, dearest cousin, lover, friend,
I may live on, but I will never mend.
Squirrels and Mud Puddles~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Squirrels and Mud Puddles10 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Elrohir of Imladris reined in his horse as a glint of sunlight off silver caught his eye.
"What is it?" his brother quizzed, with more curiosity than concern.
Elrohir nodded his head toward a large grey squirrel carrying what looked to be a silver bird with outstretched wings. A tiny, golden-haired elfling followed hot on its heels, too focused on the chase to notice the two mounted elves.
"Give that back!" the elfling demanded hotly, as his prey scurried across a large mud puddle and up a tall oak.
Too small to reach the oak's lowest branch, Legolas raced up a neighboring low-branched elm and leapt across. Undaunted, the squirrel darted inside its hole and, safely out of reach, chattered at the clever little elfling.
Elrohir thought the chattering sounded distinctly like smug laughter and decided the squirrel could not be allowed to win the day. Meeting Elladan's eyes, he saw agreement and quickly dismounted.
"You give that back or I'll bring a hawk to this tree to e
Maedhros: Son of FireHe was the fireMaedhros: Son of Fire4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
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
My Lost SonHe still had not returned. All my other children had already been released from the Halls of Mandos, but my poor Fell Fire was still lost in the darkness.My Lost Son3 years ago in Drama More Like This
"He is clean from his deeds. He has had permission to leave any time he want for a long time already," Lady Nienna explains to me. "And yet he refuses, no matter how long I talk to him. Maybe you, Eärwen can change his mind."
Maybe I will. I stand in the cool emptiness of the halls, calling for my son. I receive no reply. But at last, from the darkness emerges a wave of heat. The fire rushes towards me, and only inches away from my feet it rolls up to take a glowing red figure of my son, of my own Fell Fire.
"Mother," he says quietly as he recognises me, "you do not belong to these halls of souls."
"Neither do you, Aikanáro," I reply. "Lady Nienna told me you could leave any time you want. All your siblings are in Valinor, so why aren't you?"
He looks at me sadly. "I do not wish for life on Earth," he sighs at last. "If I c
Ships of AlqualondeThe song of waters sounded clear and sweetShips of Alqualonde3 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
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 Me5 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
Premonition"I worry greatly for you, my child."Premonition3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I turned from the view of the roaring, thundering river to look at my father. He stood in the doorway, half in shadow. He wore the comfortable, simple attire he always had when spending a day inside, engaged in comfortable pursuits such as reading and painting. Away from the eyes of the people, away from the responsibilities he bore. His hair, unbound and flowing down his back, caught the light and shone, more silver than gold, as he moved forward toward me.
I turned back to the window. "Why, adar? Have I displeased you in some way?"
He came to stand next to me, and gently took my hands in his. "You have not been eating, child," he said quietly, "and I know you have not been sleeping. You wander the halls, listless and lonely. Your friends have not seen you in weeks." He paused. "What is it that has made you so?" he asked, his voice quieter.
My shoulders stiffened slightly. He spoke the truth, but I did not want to discuss this truth with anyone, an
The Lovers of LothlorienThough the sun had long since set, and all was quiet, to him, there was no rest. Celeborn, Lord of the elven kingdom of Lothlorien, had finished his day and was passing the time among the woods of his land. For many long years he had dwelt in this forest, seen the trees come and go. Yet, as an elf, he had remained as he always has. Unchanging and ageless, like all of his kind. To his ears, the forest was not silent, but abuzz with the many far-away sounds. The winds blowing through the leaves. The animals scurrying about the forest floor. Even the footsteps of his own kin. All was heard by him.The Lovers of Lothlorien1 year ago in General Fiction More Like This
He had lived through many ages, like many elves, and had seen much of the darker horrors this world had to offer, in war, or in the simple squabbles of those who lived beyond their borders. But here, near the edges of their protected realm, he found some peace. There was a tiny lake here, hidden among the many trees, known only to him and a select few others. Though he had come here often, it ne