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b2memB2MeM Prompt: Major Life Changes (Red Path)
Format: ficlet
Genre: family
Rating: PG-13
Warnings:mentions of death
Characters: Anairë, Glóredhel (OC), mention of Glorfindel
Pairings: none
Creator’s Notes (optional): Glóredhel is my OC. She is based off of Fiondil’s OC Lóriel from the AU ficlet “Daughter of Fate." (Glóredhel in that story was Glorfindel's son and Lóriel's eldest brother). Set after Glorfindel goes to Middle-earth (again).
Summary: For this child of the Hidden City, death was a new beginning.
“What dost thou here, child?”
Glóredhel stirred, blinking up at the regal woman who stood over her, not understanding her speech at first. The last thing she could remember was leaving the Gardens of Lórien alone, walking through the Great Gates of Return unwelcomed. She had accepted it as her due, for was she not one of the Cursed, born of the Noldolië?
She had walked on and on, uncaring whither she went, but feeling her steps guided all the same. Somehow, Glóredhel thought – unable to remember quite how – she had climbed the great hill and ended up here.
Where was ‘here’? Blinking again – and why had she slept with her eyes closed? – she focused on her surroundings for the first time. The tiered city with its central tower gave her a feeling of rightness, of home.
“Gondolin,” Glóredhel whispered. “This is… Gondolin?” she asked her companion, pushing on before she could formulate any answer. “No…Gondolin is…dead. I…I died. This is…” She huddled against the Tower of Ingwë, all unknowing.
Anairë stared in shock. Who was this child? She shook her head. Gondolin. Well, that name certainly meant something to her, for other Reborn had spoken of the Hidden City. And then there was Laurefindil…She looked more closely at the younger elleth, wondering. Could it be…
“O child, who art thou?” she asked, forcing herself to speak in the halting Sindarin she knew. She looked the younger elleth over, wanting to weep. “Thou hast the golden tresses of my beloved’s kin, and are no Sinda, I deem.”
“Im estannen Glóredhel…hiril nin,” came the shy reply. “Laurelda,” she tried, though Quenya was still strange to her. “Laurelda…Laurefindiliel.”
“Laurefindil!” Anairë gasped. Laurefindil had been Turucáno’s loyal friend and heart-brother, as well as cousin, being a grandson of Finwë and Indis, but he was now the Valar’s emissary in Endorë. Who knew when, if ever, he would return?
Glóredhel nodded anxiously. “Is…is that…pleasing to my lady?” she asked in halting Quenya.
“I am thine Aunt Anairë, child,” Anairë replied in the same language, slowly, so the child could follow. She raised Glóredhel to her feet, giving her the kiss of close kin. “Let there be no titles between us.” She would give this forlorn child a home, and a purpose, until her atar returned to claim her.
Format: ficlet
Genre: family
Rating: PG-13
Warnings:mentions of death
Characters: Anairë, Glóredhel (OC), mention of Glorfindel
Pairings: none
Creator’s Notes (optional): Glóredhel is my OC. She is based off of Fiondil’s OC Lóriel from the AU ficlet “Daughter of Fate." (Glóredhel in that story was Glorfindel's son and Lóriel's eldest brother). Set after Glorfindel goes to Middle-earth (again).
Summary: For this child of the Hidden City, death was a new beginning.
“What dost thou here, child?”
Glóredhel stirred, blinking up at the regal woman who stood over her, not understanding her speech at first. The last thing she could remember was leaving the Gardens of Lórien alone, walking through the Great Gates of Return unwelcomed. She had accepted it as her due, for was she not one of the Cursed, born of the Noldolië?
She had walked on and on, uncaring whither she went, but feeling her steps guided all the same. Somehow, Glóredhel thought – unable to remember quite how – she had climbed the great hill and ended up here.
Where was ‘here’? Blinking again – and why had she slept with her eyes closed? – she focused on her surroundings for the first time. The tiered city with its central tower gave her a feeling of rightness, of home.
“Gondolin,” Glóredhel whispered. “This is… Gondolin?” she asked her companion, pushing on before she could formulate any answer. “No…Gondolin is…dead. I…I died. This is…” She huddled against the Tower of Ingwë, all unknowing.
Anairë stared in shock. Who was this child? She shook her head. Gondolin. Well, that name certainly meant something to her, for other Reborn had spoken of the Hidden City. And then there was Laurefindil…She looked more closely at the younger elleth, wondering. Could it be…
“O child, who art thou?” she asked, forcing herself to speak in the halting Sindarin she knew. She looked the younger elleth over, wanting to weep. “Thou hast the golden tresses of my beloved’s kin, and are no Sinda, I deem.”
“Im estannen Glóredhel…hiril nin,” came the shy reply. “Laurelda,” she tried, though Quenya was still strange to her. “Laurelda…Laurefindiliel.”
“Laurefindil!” Anairë gasped. Laurefindil had been Turucáno’s loyal friend and heart-brother, as well as cousin, being a grandson of Finwë and Indis, but he was now the Valar’s emissary in Endorë. Who knew when, if ever, he would return?
Glóredhel nodded anxiously. “Is…is that…pleasing to my lady?” she asked in halting Quenya.
“I am thine Aunt Anairë, child,” Anairë replied in the same language, slowly, so the child could follow. She raised Glóredhel to her feet, giving her the kiss of close kin. “Let there be no titles between us.” She would give this forlorn child a home, and a purpose, until her atar returned to claim her.
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