"The Feathered" by Huinárë
Mar. 31st, 2016 10:07 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
huinare.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
b2memB2MeM Challenge: 2012 Bingo-–’Rare Characters’ card, square I19 (Ancalagon)
Format: Ficlet (~1000 words)
Genre: Gen (but see warnings)
Rating: Teens
Warnings: mild cursing, animal dissection
Characters: Ancalagon, Mairon, Thuringwethil
Pairings: n/a
Creators' Notes (optional): Partially inspired by my current academic foci (comparative anatomy/evolution). Art imitates life…
Summary: Wherein Ancalagon visits Mairon and Thuringwethil at work, and misunderstands their purpose.
Ancalagon, a tall fellow with large dark eyes, peered into the sparsely furnished space. The torchlight in the room was redoubled and carefully focused on certain areas by an array of adjustable mirrors. At the center of the space and the light, upon a long, highly polished granite countertop, was arranged a series of dead creatures. They appeared all to be of one type. The first was entire, bearing its novel covering of mottled brown and green feathers. The second was plucked of feathers, its bare flesh nubbly and garish, its half-closed dead eyes trained on the third specimen in what looked coincidentally like a grimace. The third and messiest creature was held open by a series of clips and clamps, while the fourth and final was a skeleton with a fair amount of gristle still clinging on. Though the space, delved high in the mountains above Utumno and ventilated by a labyrinthine series of clinks that opened on the frigid air without letting light out, was quite cold, there lay about it nonetheless a faint nauseous odor.
Ancalagon sniffed at the various ungentle scents, some of which were fresher than others. There was a nice bloody smell from somewhere. He approached the countertop with interest, whilst, on the other side of it, two Ainur leaned over the open specimen studiously. The slighter figure was sketching something and did not look up, while the more robust one paused with a hand on one of the clamps just long enough to spare the newcomer a glance.
“So these are all ‘birds,’” said Ancalagon.
“It would seem so. One species of bird,” assented Mairon, adjusting something on a clamp. The two halves of the bird’s ribcage spread wider with a soft crackling. “That better?” he addressed his companion.
Thuringwethil titled her head at the thing from a few different angles. “I need to adjust the light.” She went to fiddle with one of the mirrors, but not before pausing to lift a cup from a shelf and sip a dark, thick liquid from it.
Ancalagon had only seen a few of the new bird-animals at a distance, swift streaks of color sailing through the air between trees. Everyone had, of course, known about birds from the Music, just as everyone had known of many things that had not yet to come to pass here within time. He went to peer down at the face of the still-feathered specimen. “I don’t think it looks quite as I would expect.”
“It has come down along a line of reptiles, if you’ll recall. It still has a much in common with them.”
“It was sung that these would be dear to Yavanna, and to Manwë.” Ancalagon pondered and ambled back to stand again before the open bird. “Fitting, then, that you’ve devised such clever ways to dishonor them.”
“‘Dishonor?’” murmured Mairon, in a mild tone, but glancing up so sharply and peevishly that Ancalagon bristled.
“Well, yes, look at it. It’s disassembled, pathetic, no dignity left to it. Anyone who loves this creature, to look on it as it is here, would be horrified by it,” Ancalagon explained. He’d thought that all pretty damned obvious, but perhaps Mairon, a person of no small ego, had some desire to hear his cleverness outlined for him by others.
Light slid around over the specimen and their hands on the granite as Thuringwethil continued her adjustments to the rigging of mirrors. Mairon fiddled with a small pick-like instrument and eyed Ancalagon levelly, something like disdain animating his features.
“Nay, Ancalagon, if I wanted to insult and astound Manwë and Yavanna, this is hardly the way I’d go about that. For one, we would want to contrive a way to keep this just barely alive, not dead and beyond suffering, if we were really to seize full advantage of its potential as a token of insult or terror. For another, it’s no good as an insult to the Valar here where they cannot see it.”
Ancalagon blinked slowly.
“You really do not see what we’re doing here,” Mairon appended, vexation creeping into his tone.
Ancalagon would rather have liked to spring at his condescending interlocutor, but physical attacks were seemly only when aimed at one’s inferiors, and, unfortunately, Mairon outranked him by a fair bit. Why Lord Melkor kept such a person around, one who almost seemed to fancy himself the lord’s equal, was beyond Ancalagon. Yet his was to contribute to the cause in his own way, not to question the Lord of the Earth’s taste in lieutenants.
“Would you enlighten me then?” Ancalagon said through clenched teeth.
“We are studying it, documenting it, finding out what it contains and how it works.”
“Of course. To what end, sir?”
“That is not sufficient, in itself?” Mairon looked much put upon. “The knowledge, once gathered, may yet be the means to ends we can’t currently envision. Although, yes, we do have certain specific goals here as well, which may have some bearing on you.”
Ancalagon removed his hands from the cold work surface and clenched them at his sides, feeling both vexed and stupid. He did not like feeling stupid. Although he might not have much interest in or understanding of these experiments, he was certainly no fool. His was more philosophy proper, not natural philosophy. “I fear I do not follow you.”
Thuringwethil had resumed her sketching. She leaned in close over the specimen, face set in concentration.
Mairon moved out of her way and sidled back down to the intact specimen. “Ancalagon, Lord Melkor has a plan for which you volunteered yourself, yes?, though you know little of what it shall entail other than that you will be much changed and will be a great weapon against the enemy. That form which you must take does not exist in nature and is yet beyond us to imagine, and therefore beyond anybody to willingly assume. What we must do is design a form that will meet our requirements, and make that form come to pass in you. That is why,” he took the bird’s clawed hand and straightened its arm to spread its wing, “we are trying to understand how beings go upon the air.”
________________
ENDNOTES
_ Yes, that was an Archaeopteryx.
_ No, Ancalagon’s ultimate form is not going to be remotely birdlike, but that’s a story for another time.
_ I also suppose this means, considering my version of Ancalagon does not begin his metamorphosis until perhaps shortly before the Elves emerge, Mairon et al. must have spent about 65 million years in the research and experimental design phase...don’t question their process, man.
_ This was written closer to the start of the month, but I expected it to be the first installment of a several-chapter short story following Ancalagon’s progress from regular dude to ginormous dragon. Unfortunately, none of the other chapters got written, so I’m posting this as a stand-alone ficlet now while it’s still March. (My goal this month was to reduce my WIP pile, not add to it. *silent screaming*)
Format: Ficlet (~1000 words)
Genre: Gen (but see warnings)
Rating: Teens
Warnings: mild cursing, animal dissection
Characters: Ancalagon, Mairon, Thuringwethil
Pairings: n/a
Creators' Notes (optional): Partially inspired by my current academic foci (comparative anatomy/evolution). Art imitates life…
Summary: Wherein Ancalagon visits Mairon and Thuringwethil at work, and misunderstands their purpose.
Ancalagon, a tall fellow with large dark eyes, peered into the sparsely furnished space. The torchlight in the room was redoubled and carefully focused on certain areas by an array of adjustable mirrors. At the center of the space and the light, upon a long, highly polished granite countertop, was arranged a series of dead creatures. They appeared all to be of one type. The first was entire, bearing its novel covering of mottled brown and green feathers. The second was plucked of feathers, its bare flesh nubbly and garish, its half-closed dead eyes trained on the third specimen in what looked coincidentally like a grimace. The third and messiest creature was held open by a series of clips and clamps, while the fourth and final was a skeleton with a fair amount of gristle still clinging on. Though the space, delved high in the mountains above Utumno and ventilated by a labyrinthine series of clinks that opened on the frigid air without letting light out, was quite cold, there lay about it nonetheless a faint nauseous odor.
Ancalagon sniffed at the various ungentle scents, some of which were fresher than others. There was a nice bloody smell from somewhere. He approached the countertop with interest, whilst, on the other side of it, two Ainur leaned over the open specimen studiously. The slighter figure was sketching something and did not look up, while the more robust one paused with a hand on one of the clamps just long enough to spare the newcomer a glance.
“So these are all ‘birds,’” said Ancalagon.
“It would seem so. One species of bird,” assented Mairon, adjusting something on a clamp. The two halves of the bird’s ribcage spread wider with a soft crackling. “That better?” he addressed his companion.
Thuringwethil titled her head at the thing from a few different angles. “I need to adjust the light.” She went to fiddle with one of the mirrors, but not before pausing to lift a cup from a shelf and sip a dark, thick liquid from it.
Ancalagon had only seen a few of the new bird-animals at a distance, swift streaks of color sailing through the air between trees. Everyone had, of course, known about birds from the Music, just as everyone had known of many things that had not yet to come to pass here within time. He went to peer down at the face of the still-feathered specimen. “I don’t think it looks quite as I would expect.”
“It has come down along a line of reptiles, if you’ll recall. It still has a much in common with them.”
“It was sung that these would be dear to Yavanna, and to Manwë.” Ancalagon pondered and ambled back to stand again before the open bird. “Fitting, then, that you’ve devised such clever ways to dishonor them.”
“‘Dishonor?’” murmured Mairon, in a mild tone, but glancing up so sharply and peevishly that Ancalagon bristled.
“Well, yes, look at it. It’s disassembled, pathetic, no dignity left to it. Anyone who loves this creature, to look on it as it is here, would be horrified by it,” Ancalagon explained. He’d thought that all pretty damned obvious, but perhaps Mairon, a person of no small ego, had some desire to hear his cleverness outlined for him by others.
Light slid around over the specimen and their hands on the granite as Thuringwethil continued her adjustments to the rigging of mirrors. Mairon fiddled with a small pick-like instrument and eyed Ancalagon levelly, something like disdain animating his features.
“Nay, Ancalagon, if I wanted to insult and astound Manwë and Yavanna, this is hardly the way I’d go about that. For one, we would want to contrive a way to keep this just barely alive, not dead and beyond suffering, if we were really to seize full advantage of its potential as a token of insult or terror. For another, it’s no good as an insult to the Valar here where they cannot see it.”
Ancalagon blinked slowly.
“You really do not see what we’re doing here,” Mairon appended, vexation creeping into his tone.
Ancalagon would rather have liked to spring at his condescending interlocutor, but physical attacks were seemly only when aimed at one’s inferiors, and, unfortunately, Mairon outranked him by a fair bit. Why Lord Melkor kept such a person around, one who almost seemed to fancy himself the lord’s equal, was beyond Ancalagon. Yet his was to contribute to the cause in his own way, not to question the Lord of the Earth’s taste in lieutenants.
“Would you enlighten me then?” Ancalagon said through clenched teeth.
“We are studying it, documenting it, finding out what it contains and how it works.”
“Of course. To what end, sir?”
“That is not sufficient, in itself?” Mairon looked much put upon. “The knowledge, once gathered, may yet be the means to ends we can’t currently envision. Although, yes, we do have certain specific goals here as well, which may have some bearing on you.”
Ancalagon removed his hands from the cold work surface and clenched them at his sides, feeling both vexed and stupid. He did not like feeling stupid. Although he might not have much interest in or understanding of these experiments, he was certainly no fool. His was more philosophy proper, not natural philosophy. “I fear I do not follow you.”
Thuringwethil had resumed her sketching. She leaned in close over the specimen, face set in concentration.
Mairon moved out of her way and sidled back down to the intact specimen. “Ancalagon, Lord Melkor has a plan for which you volunteered yourself, yes?, though you know little of what it shall entail other than that you will be much changed and will be a great weapon against the enemy. That form which you must take does not exist in nature and is yet beyond us to imagine, and therefore beyond anybody to willingly assume. What we must do is design a form that will meet our requirements, and make that form come to pass in you. That is why,” he took the bird’s clawed hand and straightened its arm to spread its wing, “we are trying to understand how beings go upon the air.”
________________
ENDNOTES
_ Yes, that was an Archaeopteryx.
_ No, Ancalagon’s ultimate form is not going to be remotely birdlike, but that’s a story for another time.
_ I also suppose this means, considering my version of Ancalagon does not begin his metamorphosis until perhaps shortly before the Elves emerge, Mairon et al. must have spent about 65 million years in the research and experimental design phase...don’t question their process, man.
_ This was written closer to the start of the month, but I expected it to be the first installment of a several-chapter short story following Ancalagon’s progress from regular dude to ginormous dragon. Unfortunately, none of the other chapters got written, so I’m posting this as a stand-alone ficlet now while it’s still March. (My goal this month was to reduce my WIP pile, not add to it. *silent screaming*)
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no subject
Date: 2016-03-31 05:24 pm (UTC)I wonder what Ancalagon'll think of being a dragon big enough to smash mountain ranges??? Although I doubt he'll think much of it when being USED to smash mountain ranges...
Kaylee Arafinwiel
no subject
Date: 2016-04-01 04:34 am (UTC)Heheh, thanks! ;D
Ancalagon indeed might find that his volunteerism comes at a cost...
no subject
Date: 2016-03-31 07:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-01 04:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-01 01:17 am (UTC)ETA: Is it wrong of me to hear Hannibal's voice for Mairon and Will Graham's voice for Ancalagon?
no subject
Date: 2016-04-01 04:40 am (UTC)Yuck, I hope you're soon feeling better. I'm glad to hear that, despite Mr. Rhinovirus and the FDA stuff, you were still able to Live Deliciously today with fic (and that my fic was able to contribute to said Delicious Living).
I am very amused by your voicecast! :D I think Ancalagon would be more analogous to someone else though, maybe, hrmm...oh geez, why am I forgetting his name...braiin...CHILTON. I can't believe I had to go look his name up.
no subject
Date: 2016-04-01 06:32 am (UTC)So, anyway, there might be a period of frustration coming up for our anatomists in which they have to adapt their ideas, perhaps explaining the delay of Ancalagon's transformation?
Poor archaeopteryxes--I feel a little sentimental about them, because I've seen genuine fossils (not that they would have been as cute as Easter chicks or baby quails, one suspects). Mairon may have no intention of dishonouring them, but I don't think he is putting any great effort into conserving the species either, is he?
ETA: Anyway, I've always been interested in your Ancalagon. I'm glad you posted this here. Even if it was intended as a first instalment of a chaptered story, I feel it is easily strong enough to stand on its own.
no subject
Date: 2016-04-02 03:50 am (UTC)It's certainly a rather raw deal for the archaeopteryxes. I envy your seeing a real fossil! Re: conservation--I suspect Mairon has some concept of that, if only because it might further his own access to research subjects. Shortly after I finished this, it occurred to me that he might want to breed some in captivity so that he could observe them up close easily, but cute archaeopteryx chicks imprinting on Mairon didn't seem the most relevant tangent...
Thanks, Himring! I was glad to get back to Ancalagon, since I left both him and Draugluin in the lurch (years ago now...where does the time go??).
no subject
Date: 2016-04-01 01:25 pm (UTC)Ancalagon would rather have liked to spring at his condescending interlocutor, but physical attacks were seemly only when aimed at one’s inferiors, and, unfortunately, Mairon outranked him by a fair bit. Why Lord Melkor kept such a person around, one who almost seemed to fancy himself the lord’s equal, was beyond Ancalagon.
To me, that captures Ancalagon's growing power but also his savvy in knowing when to pick his battles. Also shows Mairon's 'tude perfectly.
Speaking of perfect...
Nay, Ancalagon, if I wanted to insult and astound Manwë and Yavanna, this is hardly the way I’d go about that. For one, we would want to contrive a way to keep this just barely alive, not dead and beyond suffering, if we were really to seize full advantage of its potential as a token of insult or terror. For another, it’s no good as an insult to the Valar here where they cannot see it.
Ooooh, yes! That is exactly the logic I'd expect from Mairon, and well, it is logical.
You've drawn the scene beautifully: the specimens on the slab, the ungentle scents, the chill of the chamber, all effective use of the senses in the written word. It's great! Got a kick out of Thuringweithil (Lady Lab Assistant! :^D) taking notes. Really like Mairon's foreshadowing remarks on the studies of avian anatomy as a means to understand the mechanisms of flight, and in turn, further develop Ancalagon's ultimate form. Delicious, delicious scientifiction! I really love the concept of morphogenesis that you introduced in Of Draugluin, and Feathered contributes in a big way toward that. Your Ancalagon is an excellent character, and I'd love to read more of his story as your time and energy, both at a premium, allow.
CHILTON! OMG, you're right! Spot-on. My apologies: I'm conflating your fancast of Mads as Huin!Mairon in appearance with your fancast voice of Aidan Gillen. Nonetheless, the Hannibal connections are irresistible, given the dissections and Mairon's cool assessment of the whole process. Can't help but imagine that Dolarhyde would be deeply envious of Ancalagon! Speaking of Chilton, I came across this after I was gleefully read your comment. Dark silliness with the byline: "A Thank You to Raúl Esparza for three seasons of delicious Chilton." :^D
no subject
Date: 2016-04-02 04:04 am (UTC)Ancalagon's got a major temper on him, but he would definitely be all too aware that he'd be up shit's creek if he crossed Mairon (I've always pictured that relationship as constrainedly antagonistic, which was what prompted my Chilton analogy, although Ancalagon doesn't have the cowardly thing going for him).
I am delighted you picked out Mairon's dialogue explaining his rationale. That was actually the germinal concept of this fic; I originally had the notion of some random character coming along and complimenting Mairon's scare tactics while he was dissecting something, and him being pretty much like "dude, no." But the idea really came together when I realized Ancalagon and his story could be worked into that idea. I'm really glad to hear that people liked (or even recall!) my presentation of Ancalagon back during the era when I was writing Of Draugluin. That's a story I always mean to continue "next time I've got some spare time," but somehow that hasn't happened...
Thuringwethil is a character I've had a lot of trouble pinning down. I'm pretty happy with the conception of her that I finally settled on.
Ha! that Chilton fanvid is pretty amusing. When you mention Dolarhyde, I realize that he and Ancalagon would probably have a lot to talk about (similar predilections in some ways, I mean, aside from dragons...) And I'm still entertained by your other remark, as can just picture Will Graham going, "Look at it! It's disassembled, pathetic," etc. X)
no subject
Date: 2016-04-02 05:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-03 01:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-02 05:03 pm (UTC)This is nicely creepy--the understated horror is all the more effective, and Ancalagon is an interesting addition to your set of villains. I suppose Thuringwethil will draw on this wing-related research later also.
no subject
Date: 2016-04-03 01:57 am (UTC)Thanks, Zdenka, I appreciate it! (Oh wow, I hadn't even considered any flight-related implications this may have for Thuringwethil, I'm glad you mentioned that.)
no subject
Date: 2016-04-27 05:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-30 08:58 pm (UTC)