![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kayleearafinwiel posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
b2memB2MeM Prompt and Category: Create a fanwork where a character unintentionally gets wet— caught in the rain, falling in a lake, or whatever you like.
Daily Prompt
Format: ficlet
Genre: family
Rating: PG
Warnings: not really. a bit angsty, a bit funny, I needed something less dark after yesterday.
Characters: Nerdanel, Malach, Ñolofinwë
Pairings: Feanor/Nerdanel
Creator’s Notes (optional): I swear the SWG generator gets weirder every day. XD Really, Nerdanel and Malach?
Summary: Nerdanel climbs the Tower to gaze East upon her family. She gets a little distracted…
Lost, what most I long for,
And never to be found,
Between the lake water and the sea water
I walk without sound.
(Rosemary Dobson, “The Lost”)
'Now not day only shall be beloved, but night too shall be beautiful and blessed and all its fear pass away.' The Return of the King
F.A. 329
Nerdanel climbed the Tower of Avallónë, ascending the spiral staircase slowly, and musing on her duty. The stars were slowly winking out overhead, and the grey light of dawn spreading – shading into pinks and oranges that lit the Alatairë.
The Great Sea, sundering her for ever from the Hither Shore – where her sons yet lived, fought and died.
Died?
It was such an unusual word to her – and yet. And yet. She remembered hearing of the blood-stained sands of Alqualondë, the dark pall that still hung over Formenos, where her father-in-law lay buried.
She clutched a string of black opals in her hand. Eight gems, hanging pendant from a gold chain. Each had shone with an inner Light since her husband had forged it for her long ago, a thanks-gift for giving him their twin sons. But now one of those opals was dark.
The other seven still shone, she reminded herself, though one’s Light was dimmed. But she remembered the words of the Lord of Mandos, relayed to those who had remained behind:
On the House of Fëanor the wrath of the Valar lieth from the West unto the uttermost East, and upon all that will follow them it shall be laid also. Their Oath shall drive them, and yet betray them, and ever snatch away the very treasures that they have sworn to pursue. To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well; and by treason of kin unto kin, and the fear of treason, shall this come to pass. The Dispossessed shall they be for ever.
She could not, would not, plead for mercy for her husband and sons. The Valar had decreed, and the Valar were right. It was enough, Nerdanel thought, that they had appointed her the Keeper of the Tower and allowed her access to her husband’s Master-stone. Reaching the top of the tower, she entered the small room, with its single east-facing window open to the air, and approached the Stone.
Reverently, she lifted away its silk covering, and seated herself on the wooden stool. Which of my sons shall I seek today?
Instead of answering herself, she let her mind drift as it would, and soon it settled on a dark-haired ner like and unlike her husband. Ñolofinwë!
But who is that with him? The golden-haired companion was no Elf. She frowned, studying him and his barbaric attire. One of the Apanónar, she finally decided. The Secondborn, the Supplanters – but no, was that one of the Dark One’s lies? The Atan, then…
It seemed Ñolofinwë was treating the Atan well, anyway. He sat companionably beside the Atan, speaking in a language Nerdanel had to strain to understand. It was like to Quenya, yet unlike. It would take much more study to understand, but Nerdanel had time.
Oh yes, if nothing else, I have time!
She watched Ñolofinwë and the Atan – Aradan, Ñolofinwë called him – run outside. The Master-stone followed them to a garden, where her brother-in-love and the Atan chased each other through spring flowers and past a babbling brook. She almost smiled. The Curse, it seemed, had not affected him as much as her own family. He could still play.
Nerdanel wasn’t sure how long she sat there and watched as the two played like carefree elflings – but when this Aradan tumbled Ñolofinwë into a fishpond, she laughed hoarsely, tears of mirth burning her eyes. When was the last time so much as a smile had passed her lips?
This Atan is good for Ñolofinwë, she decided. I will keep an eye on them. It promised better times ahead than watching her husband and sons move slowly to their doom.
She rose to gaze out the window. Anar shone brightly, bestowing her warmth upon all. Yes, today would be a good day.
Daily Prompt
Format: ficlet
Genre: family
Rating: PG
Warnings: not really. a bit angsty, a bit funny, I needed something less dark after yesterday.
Characters: Nerdanel, Malach, Ñolofinwë
Pairings: Feanor/Nerdanel
Creator’s Notes (optional): I swear the SWG generator gets weirder every day. XD Really, Nerdanel and Malach?
Summary: Nerdanel climbs the Tower to gaze East upon her family. She gets a little distracted…
Lost, what most I long for,
And never to be found,
Between the lake water and the sea water
I walk without sound.
(Rosemary Dobson, “The Lost”)
'Now not day only shall be beloved, but night too shall be beautiful and blessed and all its fear pass away.' The Return of the King
F.A. 329
Nerdanel climbed the Tower of Avallónë, ascending the spiral staircase slowly, and musing on her duty. The stars were slowly winking out overhead, and the grey light of dawn spreading – shading into pinks and oranges that lit the Alatairë.
The Great Sea, sundering her for ever from the Hither Shore – where her sons yet lived, fought and died.
Died?
It was such an unusual word to her – and yet. And yet. She remembered hearing of the blood-stained sands of Alqualondë, the dark pall that still hung over Formenos, where her father-in-law lay buried.
She clutched a string of black opals in her hand. Eight gems, hanging pendant from a gold chain. Each had shone with an inner Light since her husband had forged it for her long ago, a thanks-gift for giving him their twin sons. But now one of those opals was dark.
The other seven still shone, she reminded herself, though one’s Light was dimmed. But she remembered the words of the Lord of Mandos, relayed to those who had remained behind:
On the House of Fëanor the wrath of the Valar lieth from the West unto the uttermost East, and upon all that will follow them it shall be laid also. Their Oath shall drive them, and yet betray them, and ever snatch away the very treasures that they have sworn to pursue. To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well; and by treason of kin unto kin, and the fear of treason, shall this come to pass. The Dispossessed shall they be for ever.
She could not, would not, plead for mercy for her husband and sons. The Valar had decreed, and the Valar were right. It was enough, Nerdanel thought, that they had appointed her the Keeper of the Tower and allowed her access to her husband’s Master-stone. Reaching the top of the tower, she entered the small room, with its single east-facing window open to the air, and approached the Stone.
Reverently, she lifted away its silk covering, and seated herself on the wooden stool. Which of my sons shall I seek today?
Instead of answering herself, she let her mind drift as it would, and soon it settled on a dark-haired ner like and unlike her husband. Ñolofinwë!
But who is that with him? The golden-haired companion was no Elf. She frowned, studying him and his barbaric attire. One of the Apanónar, she finally decided. The Secondborn, the Supplanters – but no, was that one of the Dark One’s lies? The Atan, then…
It seemed Ñolofinwë was treating the Atan well, anyway. He sat companionably beside the Atan, speaking in a language Nerdanel had to strain to understand. It was like to Quenya, yet unlike. It would take much more study to understand, but Nerdanel had time.
Oh yes, if nothing else, I have time!
She watched Ñolofinwë and the Atan – Aradan, Ñolofinwë called him – run outside. The Master-stone followed them to a garden, where her brother-in-love and the Atan chased each other through spring flowers and past a babbling brook. She almost smiled. The Curse, it seemed, had not affected him as much as her own family. He could still play.
Nerdanel wasn’t sure how long she sat there and watched as the two played like carefree elflings – but when this Aradan tumbled Ñolofinwë into a fishpond, she laughed hoarsely, tears of mirth burning her eyes. When was the last time so much as a smile had passed her lips?
This Atan is good for Ñolofinwë, she decided. I will keep an eye on them. It promised better times ahead than watching her husband and sons move slowly to their doom.
She rose to gaze out the window. Anar shone brightly, bestowing her warmth upon all. Yes, today would be a good day.
