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b2mem2017-03-30 01:52 am
starbrow.livejournal.com) wrote in b2mem2017-03-30 01:52 am
Entry tags:
Another Race (From Outer Space) by amyfortuna
B2MeM Prompt and Path:Red Path, Tales and Songs by the Fire
Format: Short Story
Genre: Family, Humour, Sci-fi (ish)
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Characters: Finrod, Galadriel, references to Gandalf
Pairings: None
Creator's Notes: Takes place about YT 1380, when Finrod is 80 (a young adult) and Galadriel 18 (still a young child).
Summary: One evening by the fire, Finrod and Galadriel speculate about what the Race of Men might be like. They get some stuff...a little wrong.
------
The Human-stories of the elves are doubtless full of the Escape from Deathlessness.
-- JRR Tolkien, On Fairy-Stories
------
Findaráto caught sight of Artanis sitting alone on the rug by the hearth-fire, poring over a book in the dim light of Telperion. He had been planning to go and see what Turkáno was doing, but changed his mind. His little sister's eyes were shining bright, and she was smiling faintly at the book as she read. When he entered the room, she looked up distractedly.
"Ah, Ingo, come and share the warmth!" She made space for him on the large white fur rug, a present for their father from Fëanáro, and he duly lay down next to her, hand reaching to tug at a shining ringlet of her hair.
She permitted the gesture, but patted her book, and he refocused. "What are you reading that has you smiling so?"
"It's a treatise by one of the Maiar, Olórin. A bit of a wanderer, this one, I can't quite work out who he belongs to -- he claims to have worked alongside both Manwë and Varda, as well as Irmo, but he wrote this in Nienna's halls. It's fascinating stuff, all speculation on the Aftercomers."
"The Aftercomers?" Findaráto asked.
"Another race of Children of Eru," Artanis said. "Another race like us."
"We already know of Dwarves," Findaráto said. "It's my dearest ambition to meet one someday."
"He speaks not about Dwarves, nor Ents, nor Eagles," Artanis said. "The word he uses is...it's hard to parse, but it means something like those-who-die and something like those-who-are-guests. Their spirits come to Arda from Eru, and after a short time here dwelling in bodies, depart once more and return to Eru."
"Not like us at all," Findaráto said. "Arda is home, I can imagine no other. It would be so strange to be a guest in a world not your own! If we ever meet them, we must treat them with all courtesy!"
Artanis let the book fall to her lap, caught by a thought. "I wonder how they'll look?" she mused. "To have a body so lightly tied to the spirit...."
Findaráto sat up a little. "I think they'll be very tall, and wispy, almost insubstantial. Their hair will flow straight out behind them, because they'll be walking in the winds of a different world, and it will shine like the brightest of Varda's stars."
Artanis gave him a delighted glance. "They will be so beautiful, and so otherworldly, that we won't know quite how to talk to them. What if we have nothing in common?"
"They will be Eru's Children, too," Findaráto said, "so of course we'll have things in common. They'll have much to teach us, they'll be so wise, and so strong. Perhaps they will show us how to Escape the end of Arda, as they do."
Artanis shivered. "That's a chilling thought -- the end of Arda. The end of us."
Findaráto laid a hand on her shoulder. "Nothing to worry about for a long, long time, little sister."
"And yet still..." Artanis whispered. "Still I worry. Slow or fast, the end will come. I hope you're right, and the Aftercomers will help. If they are guests, they will have their own home somewhere, and perhaps they can take us there."
"Or perhaps together we shall build a New Arda," Findaráto said. "A home for all of Eru's Children, unmarred and unstained. Isn't that a better thing to hope for than a far-off, distant fear?"
Artanis curled in closer to him. "It is always better to hope than to fear," she said.
"Well spoken!" Findaráto exclaimed with a laugh, hugging her.
"If only the practice was as easy as the words," Artanis added, throwing an arm around Findaráto. "Ingo, do you think we'll ever meet them?"
"I don't see why not," Findaráto said. "Of course the Valar will be interested in them, just as they were in us. If this Maia is writing treatises about them, then he'll certainly want to meet them, so no doubt some of them will come here. What an exciting day that will be!"
"We'll show them Tirion," Artanis said, eyes sparkling. "They'll glide up the Long Steps -- I don't think they'll walk quite the same way we do -- and look at all our art and our beautiful buildings! Do you think they'll appreciate pearls? I think their skin will be pearlescent, and it'll shine so bright in the light of the Trees."
Findaráto grinned. "Pearlescent skin, and shining-white hair, very tall, almost not quite in contact with the earth the same way we are. And eyes like black opals, with darts of rainbow light inside them, and their mouths red as carnelian. Being so insubstantial, they'll be able to live on insubstantial things, like spiderwebs or mist. I think they'll love pearls, but they won't look good on them. Emeralds would be better, or diamonds, perhaps. Or maybe they won't care about such trivial things as decorations at all."
Artanis nodded. "That would make sense. They'll be coming from their home beyond the stars, lit by the Imperishable Flame itself. Even the brightest gems would be dim to them, after that."
"I'm sure when the time comes the Valar will tell us how best to greet them and what they would like," Findaráto said thoughtfully.
"Yes, but it's more fun to figure things out this way," Artanis said, laughing. "Olórin, here, says that they will be 'master of their fates' in ways that we are not." Her face went sober. "I'm not sure I like the idea of my fate being all planned out in the Music already. I want to make it myself."
Findaráto patted her arm comfortingly. "And so you shall. Your fate is still up to you. You don't know it, do you?"
"No, of course not," Artanis said. "But I know what I want it to be. I want to explore everywhere and learn everything. And I want to rule my own people, and I want to make beautiful things that will last for all of time."
Findaráto laughed and then almost immediately sighed, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Me too, little sister. And the choices we make will determine how much of our fate we get to live out."
Artanis shook her head, but a smile was on her face. "Well, as long as I don't fall off a mountain and spend forty centuries in Mandos out of total embarrassment. That would definitely hamper my plans!"
Findaráto, in the middle of sitting up, burst out laughing at her mock-serious tone. "Now you know that mountain-climbing is probably not a choice you want to make!" he gasped out, then fell back against the rug, still giggling.
"You children are having entirely too much fun," Eärwen said merrily, entering the room, her eyes sparkling. "I figured I had to come and stop it before you laughed the house down!" She took a seat on the long couch near the fire. "Come up here, my Nerwendë, and you too, my Ingo, and tell me your tale!"
They scrambled to join her on the couch, both talking at once, and Olórin's treatise was left forgotten on the rug.
Format: Short Story
Genre: Family, Humour, Sci-fi (ish)
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Characters: Finrod, Galadriel, references to Gandalf
Pairings: None
Creator's Notes: Takes place about YT 1380, when Finrod is 80 (a young adult) and Galadriel 18 (still a young child).
Summary: One evening by the fire, Finrod and Galadriel speculate about what the Race of Men might be like. They get some stuff...a little wrong.
------
The Human-stories of the elves are doubtless full of the Escape from Deathlessness.
-- JRR Tolkien, On Fairy-Stories
------
Findaráto caught sight of Artanis sitting alone on the rug by the hearth-fire, poring over a book in the dim light of Telperion. He had been planning to go and see what Turkáno was doing, but changed his mind. His little sister's eyes were shining bright, and she was smiling faintly at the book as she read. When he entered the room, she looked up distractedly.
"Ah, Ingo, come and share the warmth!" She made space for him on the large white fur rug, a present for their father from Fëanáro, and he duly lay down next to her, hand reaching to tug at a shining ringlet of her hair.
She permitted the gesture, but patted her book, and he refocused. "What are you reading that has you smiling so?"
"It's a treatise by one of the Maiar, Olórin. A bit of a wanderer, this one, I can't quite work out who he belongs to -- he claims to have worked alongside both Manwë and Varda, as well as Irmo, but he wrote this in Nienna's halls. It's fascinating stuff, all speculation on the Aftercomers."
"The Aftercomers?" Findaráto asked.
"Another race of Children of Eru," Artanis said. "Another race like us."
"We already know of Dwarves," Findaráto said. "It's my dearest ambition to meet one someday."
"He speaks not about Dwarves, nor Ents, nor Eagles," Artanis said. "The word he uses is...it's hard to parse, but it means something like those-who-die and something like those-who-are-guests. Their spirits come to Arda from Eru, and after a short time here dwelling in bodies, depart once more and return to Eru."
"Not like us at all," Findaráto said. "Arda is home, I can imagine no other. It would be so strange to be a guest in a world not your own! If we ever meet them, we must treat them with all courtesy!"
Artanis let the book fall to her lap, caught by a thought. "I wonder how they'll look?" she mused. "To have a body so lightly tied to the spirit...."
Findaráto sat up a little. "I think they'll be very tall, and wispy, almost insubstantial. Their hair will flow straight out behind them, because they'll be walking in the winds of a different world, and it will shine like the brightest of Varda's stars."
Artanis gave him a delighted glance. "They will be so beautiful, and so otherworldly, that we won't know quite how to talk to them. What if we have nothing in common?"
"They will be Eru's Children, too," Findaráto said, "so of course we'll have things in common. They'll have much to teach us, they'll be so wise, and so strong. Perhaps they will show us how to Escape the end of Arda, as they do."
Artanis shivered. "That's a chilling thought -- the end of Arda. The end of us."
Findaráto laid a hand on her shoulder. "Nothing to worry about for a long, long time, little sister."
"And yet still..." Artanis whispered. "Still I worry. Slow or fast, the end will come. I hope you're right, and the Aftercomers will help. If they are guests, they will have their own home somewhere, and perhaps they can take us there."
"Or perhaps together we shall build a New Arda," Findaráto said. "A home for all of Eru's Children, unmarred and unstained. Isn't that a better thing to hope for than a far-off, distant fear?"
Artanis curled in closer to him. "It is always better to hope than to fear," she said.
"Well spoken!" Findaráto exclaimed with a laugh, hugging her.
"If only the practice was as easy as the words," Artanis added, throwing an arm around Findaráto. "Ingo, do you think we'll ever meet them?"
"I don't see why not," Findaráto said. "Of course the Valar will be interested in them, just as they were in us. If this Maia is writing treatises about them, then he'll certainly want to meet them, so no doubt some of them will come here. What an exciting day that will be!"
"We'll show them Tirion," Artanis said, eyes sparkling. "They'll glide up the Long Steps -- I don't think they'll walk quite the same way we do -- and look at all our art and our beautiful buildings! Do you think they'll appreciate pearls? I think their skin will be pearlescent, and it'll shine so bright in the light of the Trees."
Findaráto grinned. "Pearlescent skin, and shining-white hair, very tall, almost not quite in contact with the earth the same way we are. And eyes like black opals, with darts of rainbow light inside them, and their mouths red as carnelian. Being so insubstantial, they'll be able to live on insubstantial things, like spiderwebs or mist. I think they'll love pearls, but they won't look good on them. Emeralds would be better, or diamonds, perhaps. Or maybe they won't care about such trivial things as decorations at all."
Artanis nodded. "That would make sense. They'll be coming from their home beyond the stars, lit by the Imperishable Flame itself. Even the brightest gems would be dim to them, after that."
"I'm sure when the time comes the Valar will tell us how best to greet them and what they would like," Findaráto said thoughtfully.
"Yes, but it's more fun to figure things out this way," Artanis said, laughing. "Olórin, here, says that they will be 'master of their fates' in ways that we are not." Her face went sober. "I'm not sure I like the idea of my fate being all planned out in the Music already. I want to make it myself."
Findaráto patted her arm comfortingly. "And so you shall. Your fate is still up to you. You don't know it, do you?"
"No, of course not," Artanis said. "But I know what I want it to be. I want to explore everywhere and learn everything. And I want to rule my own people, and I want to make beautiful things that will last for all of time."
Findaráto laughed and then almost immediately sighed, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Me too, little sister. And the choices we make will determine how much of our fate we get to live out."
Artanis shook her head, but a smile was on her face. "Well, as long as I don't fall off a mountain and spend forty centuries in Mandos out of total embarrassment. That would definitely hamper my plans!"
Findaráto, in the middle of sitting up, burst out laughing at her mock-serious tone. "Now you know that mountain-climbing is probably not a choice you want to make!" he gasped out, then fell back against the rug, still giggling.
"You children are having entirely too much fun," Eärwen said merrily, entering the room, her eyes sparkling. "I figured I had to come and stop it before you laughed the house down!" She took a seat on the long couch near the fire. "Come up here, my Nerwendë, and you too, my Ingo, and tell me your tale!"
They scrambled to join her on the couch, both talking at once, and Olórin's treatise was left forgotten on the rug.
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to be a guest in a world not your own!
What a fascinating way to think about the race of Men.
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The concept of Men as 'guests' is straight out of the Athrabeth -- it's utterly fascinating stuff. :D
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I will be adding this to my favorites as soon as it goes up on AO3.
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It's up now (http://archiveofourown.org/works/10500075). :D I wrote it at some ridiculous hour of the night, and didn't post it on AO3 until this morning.
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Great imagery and interchange here.
- Erulisse (one L)
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