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b2memB2MeM Prompt and Category: By the starlit mere of Cuiviénen, Water of Awakening, they rose from the sleep of Ilúvatar; and while they dwelt yet silent by Cuiviénen their eyes beheld first of all things the stars of heaven. (The Silmarillion, “Of the Coming of the Elves and the Captivity of Melkor)
Daily Prompt: Fuoco “fiery”, Estinto “lifeless”.
Format: double drabble and a half (vignette?)
Genre: horror
Rating: PG-13, at least
Warnings: Mentions of torture, death, and orcs, though I don’t think anything’s terribly explicit.
Characters: Sauron, Tatië, Finwë, Melkor
Pairings: Tata/Tatië
Creator’s Notes (optional): The SWG prompt generator is crazy, you know that? XD
Summary: Oookay…Sauron and Tatië, I can work with that. Maybe. I’m not used to writing Cuiviénen – in fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever written anything this early before. Set during the time Oromë has taken the ambassadors for the Elves to Aman.
“Thou’rt jealous, is it not so, Child?”
“I am, Lord.” The chief woman of the Tatyai bows to the Servant who stands beside her, seemingly concerned. She is wary, however.
“Because thine heir has been chosen to represent the Tatyai in thy lord’s place, is it not so?”
“It is, Lord.” Is it her imagination, or does this Servant of the unseen Bali seem more…prideful than others? It is a weakness of her lord, and of their heir. But his next words warm him to Tatië.
“Then come with me, Tatië, and be my messenger to the greatest of the Bali, Mbelkoro, Lord of Gifts. Come, and let thy lord see to himself.” He smiles charmingly – seductively, she wonders? Still, she is curious.
Tatië places her hand in his and follows. Various of the Tatyai call after her, the children of the Nelyai hand her shells. One of her son’s playmates, a Minya called Ndissë, hands her a crown of woven grasses.
She is still wearing it when the Servant takes her before his Lord of Gifts – the Dark Hunter.
Tatië never sees the stars again, but the kiss of fire and screams of pain become familiar. Her crown withers to dust.
Blackened, twisted flesh – the offspring she bears for the Dark Hunter’s armies are nothing like her Finwë. O my beloved, my son, please, do not forget me! Please forgive my foolish pride and envy!
Death, when it comes, is a gift. She prays the Bali, too, can forgive.
Daily Prompt: Fuoco “fiery”, Estinto “lifeless”.
Format: double drabble and a half (vignette?)
Genre: horror
Rating: PG-13, at least
Warnings: Mentions of torture, death, and orcs, though I don’t think anything’s terribly explicit.
Characters: Sauron, Tatië, Finwë, Melkor
Pairings: Tata/Tatië
Creator’s Notes (optional): The SWG prompt generator is crazy, you know that? XD
Summary: Oookay…Sauron and Tatië, I can work with that. Maybe. I’m not used to writing Cuiviénen – in fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever written anything this early before. Set during the time Oromë has taken the ambassadors for the Elves to Aman.
“Thou’rt jealous, is it not so, Child?”
“I am, Lord.” The chief woman of the Tatyai bows to the Servant who stands beside her, seemingly concerned. She is wary, however.
“Because thine heir has been chosen to represent the Tatyai in thy lord’s place, is it not so?”
“It is, Lord.” Is it her imagination, or does this Servant of the unseen Bali seem more…prideful than others? It is a weakness of her lord, and of their heir. But his next words warm him to Tatië.
“Then come with me, Tatië, and be my messenger to the greatest of the Bali, Mbelkoro, Lord of Gifts. Come, and let thy lord see to himself.” He smiles charmingly – seductively, she wonders? Still, she is curious.
Tatië places her hand in his and follows. Various of the Tatyai call after her, the children of the Nelyai hand her shells. One of her son’s playmates, a Minya called Ndissë, hands her a crown of woven grasses.
She is still wearing it when the Servant takes her before his Lord of Gifts – the Dark Hunter.
Tatië never sees the stars again, but the kiss of fire and screams of pain become familiar. Her crown withers to dust.
Blackened, twisted flesh – the offspring she bears for the Dark Hunter’s armies are nothing like her Finwë. O my beloved, my son, please, do not forget me! Please forgive my foolish pride and envy!
Death, when it comes, is a gift. She prays the Bali, too, can forgive.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-05 02:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-05 03:58 pm (UTC)I feel like I need to wash my brain out after writing that story...*shudder*
no subject
Date: 2018-03-06 06:39 pm (UTC)Very dark and sad. Totally Tolkien. ;D
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Date: 2018-03-06 07:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-08 01:55 pm (UTC)You've hit so many right notes in a story this short; well done!
no subject
Date: 2018-03-08 05:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-09 12:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-09 12:03 am (UTC)