Elf-trinkets by amyfortuna
Mar. 11th, 2017 05:42 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
starbrow.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
b2memB2MeM Prompt and Path: Red Path, Lost on the Road
Format: Ficlet
Genre: Gen, Nostalgia
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Niënor, Morwen, references to Húrin and Fingon
Pairings: Morwen/Húrin
Creator’s Notes: I think the hair ornament Niënor found was something like that in this picture of Fingon.
Summary: Niënor finds things that the Elves have forgotten and lost when she plays near her house.
Niënor was forbidden to play in any of the fields adjoining the house that once was Húrin's where she could be seen by the Easterlings. Behind the house, there was only a small stretch of grass, and then a fence, and beyond that the river with its laughing waterfall.
It was not enough space for a growing girl, so as soon as she was old enough to be permitted to play without supervision, Niënor would run over the deserted Elf-bridge to play on the other side of the river, where Easterlings never came. They said those woods were haunted by the ghosts of slain Elves, but Niënor's mother had told her the truth of it. Niënor never felt in danger in those forgotten woods, just a lingering sense of lost peace and beauty.
From time to time, she discovered lost trinkets and artefacts. The Elvenking himself, her mother said, had come to meet with Niënor's father, long ago, and had his encampment where those woods now were, so it was not unreasonable to find a lost belonging or two. Everyone who owned those things was probably now dead, her mother added, so anything Niënor found was hers for the keeping.
A tin, with a lump of salt still inside, letters carved on it gracefully with flourishes in ancient Tengwar. She sounded them out carefully, and translated what they said, with her mother's help, as 'the flower of the sea.' A brooch, silver, a carved leaf of a thing, beautiful in its elegant simplicity. A spoon, this rougher than the others, crafted out of white bone, hundreds of years old. A few coins - several with the symbol of Fingolfin on them, a few with Fingon's, one of copper, with a device she did not recognise, nor did her mother. Two rings -- one a plain silver band, someone's wedding ring, her mother said, the other set with a green jewel that scintillated in the sunlight once she'd dug it out of the mud. Several pieces of crockery, made of clay and painted in bright colours, broken and abandoned where they lay. And one day, she happened to find, buried in the leaf-muck of a young tree, three long golden chains, connected to a shining tassel of sapphires in gold, a fine hair ornament, such as one that royalty would wear.
She took the pretty thing back to her mother with a solemnity about her that hadn't been present for the other things. This, simple as it seemed, she felt to be significant, and once she cleaned it thoroughly, and presented it to her mother, laying it down in her lap, she was proved right. Morwen held up her hands with a soft cry, then lifted the golden ornament from her lap. "This is familiar," she said. "One day, long ago, before you were born, the High King himself came riding over that bridge, and stopped overnight to speak with your father. He wore these chains in his braids, woven through them."
"You met the High King?" Niënor said, eyes wide. She had hardly ever seen even an ordinary elf, and her mother having met their King was like something out of ancient legend.
Morwen laughed, a sound she so rarely made that Niënor looked up suddenly in surprise. "I have," she said, "yes, I met King Fingon, though briefly. Fingon the Valiant, they called him." She studied the ornament briefly, her mouth working soundlessly. "Your father loved him dearly, so I shouldn't say a word against him, and it's true he was gracious and noble, but he enmeshed your father and all our men in his own doom, and left us here to carry on in darkness, in sorrow, in captivity." Laying a hand on Niënor's head, she sighed, and handed back the ornament. "Get what joy from it you can, my daughter, but remember this: Elves are no protection against the Shadow in the North, and we live in a beleaguered, darkened land. I will fight for you as long as I have breath, but I fear the battle is vain, and all I long for is those few happy days, too short, alas, too few!"
Niënor flung her arms around her mother, the ornament balled up in one fist. "Do I not bring you happiness, mother?" she cried.
Morwen sighed again, and kissed her forehead. "You do, my child, you do, but happiness mingled with fear."
Format: Ficlet
Genre: Gen, Nostalgia
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Niënor, Morwen, references to Húrin and Fingon
Pairings: Morwen/Húrin
Creator’s Notes: I think the hair ornament Niënor found was something like that in this picture of Fingon.
Summary: Niënor finds things that the Elves have forgotten and lost when she plays near her house.
Niënor was forbidden to play in any of the fields adjoining the house that once was Húrin's where she could be seen by the Easterlings. Behind the house, there was only a small stretch of grass, and then a fence, and beyond that the river with its laughing waterfall.
It was not enough space for a growing girl, so as soon as she was old enough to be permitted to play without supervision, Niënor would run over the deserted Elf-bridge to play on the other side of the river, where Easterlings never came. They said those woods were haunted by the ghosts of slain Elves, but Niënor's mother had told her the truth of it. Niënor never felt in danger in those forgotten woods, just a lingering sense of lost peace and beauty.
From time to time, she discovered lost trinkets and artefacts. The Elvenking himself, her mother said, had come to meet with Niënor's father, long ago, and had his encampment where those woods now were, so it was not unreasonable to find a lost belonging or two. Everyone who owned those things was probably now dead, her mother added, so anything Niënor found was hers for the keeping.
A tin, with a lump of salt still inside, letters carved on it gracefully with flourishes in ancient Tengwar. She sounded them out carefully, and translated what they said, with her mother's help, as 'the flower of the sea.' A brooch, silver, a carved leaf of a thing, beautiful in its elegant simplicity. A spoon, this rougher than the others, crafted out of white bone, hundreds of years old. A few coins - several with the symbol of Fingolfin on them, a few with Fingon's, one of copper, with a device she did not recognise, nor did her mother. Two rings -- one a plain silver band, someone's wedding ring, her mother said, the other set with a green jewel that scintillated in the sunlight once she'd dug it out of the mud. Several pieces of crockery, made of clay and painted in bright colours, broken and abandoned where they lay. And one day, she happened to find, buried in the leaf-muck of a young tree, three long golden chains, connected to a shining tassel of sapphires in gold, a fine hair ornament, such as one that royalty would wear.
She took the pretty thing back to her mother with a solemnity about her that hadn't been present for the other things. This, simple as it seemed, she felt to be significant, and once she cleaned it thoroughly, and presented it to her mother, laying it down in her lap, she was proved right. Morwen held up her hands with a soft cry, then lifted the golden ornament from her lap. "This is familiar," she said. "One day, long ago, before you were born, the High King himself came riding over that bridge, and stopped overnight to speak with your father. He wore these chains in his braids, woven through them."
"You met the High King?" Niënor said, eyes wide. She had hardly ever seen even an ordinary elf, and her mother having met their King was like something out of ancient legend.
Morwen laughed, a sound she so rarely made that Niënor looked up suddenly in surprise. "I have," she said, "yes, I met King Fingon, though briefly. Fingon the Valiant, they called him." She studied the ornament briefly, her mouth working soundlessly. "Your father loved him dearly, so I shouldn't say a word against him, and it's true he was gracious and noble, but he enmeshed your father and all our men in his own doom, and left us here to carry on in darkness, in sorrow, in captivity." Laying a hand on Niënor's head, she sighed, and handed back the ornament. "Get what joy from it you can, my daughter, but remember this: Elves are no protection against the Shadow in the North, and we live in a beleaguered, darkened land. I will fight for you as long as I have breath, but I fear the battle is vain, and all I long for is those few happy days, too short, alas, too few!"
Niënor flung her arms around her mother, the ornament balled up in one fist. "Do I not bring you happiness, mother?" she cried.
Morwen sighed again, and kissed her forehead. "You do, my child, you do, but happiness mingled with fear."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2017-03-11 06:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-03-11 10:22 pm (UTC)This is a really beautiful addition to it.
no subject
Date: 2017-03-11 10:47 pm (UTC)- Erulisse (one L)
no subject
Date: 2017-03-12 05:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-03-12 06:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-03-12 11:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-03-18 09:57 am (UTC)Also - what a lovely picture you linked too.