"They were just children!" Elwing shrieked, viciously pushing her cousin away.
"Elwing " Celeborn attempted to console his young relative, but she refused to be comforted.
"You left them! You left and now they're gone." The young elith collapsed on the ground, sobbing. She clutched her stomach, fighting the physical agony which assailed her. Agony and guilt. She should have been there. She should have made certain her brothers were following. She should not have left them.
The attack happened so fast she could barely separate the jumbled, nightmarish events, but it seemed like slow motion at the time. The elves of Doriath knew that a battle with the sons of Feanor was possible. Elwing's father, King Dior refused to relinquish the silmaril he had inherited from his parents. They were prepared to defend Doriath, but they were not prepared for the savage brutality of the Noldor. The Noldor killed without conscience.
She remembered being kissed by her mother. She remembered her f
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 Flame2 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
A Strand of HairA Strand of Hair2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Gimli enjoyed exploring. Gimli's father, Gloin, had raised him on tales of Thorin's expedition for the Arkenstone. Gimli wanted to follow his father's footsteps, maybe even surpassing them. His own journey was nothing like his childhood daydreams. It was wearing, terrifying, miserable, difficult, and often boring. He relished every second. That was why he accepted the elf's invitation to sail west to Valinor.
Gimli would travel farther than any other dwarf before or after him. He had not realized that he would be the only dwarf on the continent. It seemed silly, but he did not consider how alone he would feel. He missed his family, but it was the small things that drowned him in nostalgia. He missed drinking a pint of ale by the firelight; he missed seeing faces with real beards, not sissy elf-beards; he missed sitting in a chair where his feet touched the ground.
Gimli's friends did their best to make him feel at home, but it was not enough. Legolas was always good company, but he did
Into WaterInto WaterInto Water2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The end we have always dreaded has come, and I am entwined together with Morgoth's beast- we are become as one writhing, thrashing creature of steel and flame and flesh. A horrible din fills my ears, which must be his roar of pain at the spike of my helm embedded deep in his breast, or perhaps it is my own scream as I cling closer to him and the fire that emanates from his body licks at my face and skin, burning me, threatening to engulf me entirely. In a final, desperate burst of strength, I wrap my legs as tightly as I can around his and wrench them out from under him.
Suddenly the world is sideways, and we are falling. Some instinct takes hold of me, and I draw and hold a single breath just before we crash into water.
For a split second, the shock of its coldness on my burns is more excruciating than the fire that made them. The force of our impact with the water dislodges my half-melted helm from my head, a
Lord of Wolves"Where are the Rings?"Lord of Wolves2 years ago in Drama More Like This
He didn't answer.
He didn't answer.
The whip snapped against his skin. White-hot pain shot through him. Celebrimbor bit back an agonizing gasp.
Annatar was smiling at him in that strange, sinister way. But it was no longer Annatarno longer the smiling Lord of Gifts. It was a demon standing in front of him, cruel and sly and completely merciless.
"Does that feel good, Telpe?"
"Do not call me that!" Celebrimbor hissed.
"I will stop," said Annatar simply, "if you tell me where the Three and Seven are."
"I will never."
Snarling, Annatar turned to the Orc holding the iron whip. "Heat it!" But then he paused, and slowly smiled. "No. Send for a Balrog. I want you to show dear Telperinquar how his grandfather met his end."
Celebrimbor's body shook. His eyes widened in horror, and blood from his bitten lip flowed down to join the dark red stain on his shirt. He took a breath, gasping at the effort and as his lunges filled with blood.A Balrog... a Balrog..
Sand and MusicSand and MusicSand and Music2 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.&
LossTurgonLoss2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
My brother is gone.
The deafening clashes and shrieks of battle dim and blur together in my ears as I stand, rooted, in the frenzy, staring at the swirling clouds of flame and dust where his banner fell. Through the haze of my sorrow, it hits me like a kick to the stomach that with his passing, and no heir to his line, I have in the space of a few seconds become the High King of our people. I am the last of Nolofinwë's children, and I am alone, as is my beloved Gondolin; and we both will be discovered and destroyed as surely as will all the realms of the Eldar in Middle Earth.
I am pulled from my stupor by the captains of Men, and must abandon my fatalistic thoughts for action, though the overwhelming grief for my father's house refuses to loosen its clutches so easily. I fight on because I can do nothing else, and my eyes sting, though from dust or tears I do not know.
As I order a full retreat, my voice breaks and I curse the F
Luthien TinuvielDark as midnight was her hair,Luthien Tinuviel2 years ago in Romance More Like This
And her eyes were sapphires bright.
Her voice was like the song of birds
As she danced with feet so light.
This was Luthien, Thingol's daughter,
For she danced with elven grace,
While in the shadows watched Beren,
An man of mortal race.
Luthien saw him watching her,
So she cast a spell and fled.
And there Beren, a statue, stood,
Though he was not dead.
Eventually, the trance wore off,
And Beren found her once more.
He called out the name "Tinuviel,"
And Luthien fled no more.
She loved him from that moment on,
But this was not Thingol's will,
And he would not let Beren marry her
'Till he brought him a Silmaril.
The Secret Garden"I know what you're thinking about," Nolofinwe's known, beloved voice whispered in Anaire's ear.The Secret Garden2 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Really?" she answered playfully, her eyes laughing.
"Yes," he kissed her neck and hugged her from behind. "For I'm reminded of our first meeting as well "
They were standing in a hidden spot between the many trees that surrounded 'their secret garden', as they came to view it. It seemed every child found this spot and claimed it to be his or her own, and currently their son, Findekano, was playing there with his cousin and friend, Nelyafinwe son of Feanaro.
"It was not so long ago, you know," Anaire said, turning in his arms to demand a kiss on the lips.
"Mmm true " came the reply.
Anaire laughed again. "Come. Let us leave them alone."
"Do you want to play with me?"
The girl lifted her head, surprised. She was sprawled on the grass, an opened book before her and an apple, half eaten, in her right hand. Above her stand a boy about her age, his long, black hair tied with
My brotherHeed this, my brother,My brother2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
This one's for thee:
There is still hope beyond misery.
Hear me, my brother,
All is not woe.
The eyes of the Eldar still glimmer above.
Fear not, my brother,
To live during War.
It's not the reason nor outcome of all.
One day, my brother,
Justice will come,
The curse lying upon us will be undone.
Although, my brother,
We have faced defeat
Darkness won't last for in light we shall meet.
Will you, my brother,
Promise to be
Always the brother that's so dear to me?
Hear this, my brother,
Before you will leave
To go back to sleep and leave me to grieve.
Don't be, my brother,
Afraid to show love
Your guardian star will guard you from above.
A Worrisome Situation"Deeear jelly...."A Worrisome Situation2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Finwe was grinning at him.
Mahtan reached slowly for his knife. "Stop calling me jelly; you scare me." When Finwe narrowed his eyes, he quickly added, "You can only call me that if you promise not to try and eat me again."
Finwe started giggling and Mahtan gripped his knife tightly. "I can't promise anything, but I'll think about it. Maybe."
He stared at him unhappily, wondering how their relationship had degraded so much. "I guess I'll just have to sleep with my knife from now on."
"Hah!" Finwe strutted around the room proudly. "That doesn't offend me, your knife won't help you." He smirked and tossed his black hair, then pivoted and face him. "But you're lucky I changed my mind. I will not eat you."
Mahtan breathed a sigh of relief.
He choked and backed away hastily when Finwe made a move to help him. "I think I'll keep it with me, in case you change your mind...."
The Noldor king shrugged. "It would get me hurt, but I'd just eat it along with you!"
That Summer in RivendellWarm sunlight streamed downThat Summer in Rivendell2 years ago in Romance More Like This
From the leafy canopy
A thousand shades of green
As water glittered along its course
And fell shimmering into its crystal basin
A soft breeze whispered
Through the boughs of ancient oaks
And beneath these trees
Two lovers walked
And sang in clear elven voices
And vows they made:
Never to part
That summer in Rivendell