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b2mem2019-03-16 02:37 pm
senalishia) wrote in b2mem2019-03-16 02:37 pm
Entry tags:
Language, by Senalishia
B2MeM Prompt, Card and Number:”Feanatics!” - B10: Freedom fighter
Format: Double drabble
Genre: Drama
Rating: General
Warnings: No warnings apply
Characters: Feanor
Pairings:None
Summary: Enthusiasm for linguistics almost saves Feanor's life.
Feänáro cast about but failed to find more fodder for his blade. It became increasingly clear they were driving the orc army into a full retreat. He itched to follow them, as they undoubtedly fled toward their dark Master. But Turcafinwë's forces had not yet rejoined them, and these odd local Elves, too like the treacherous Teleri, needed to be dealt with.
“I think their leader wants to talk to you,” Nelyafinwë murmured. Should he? They had been of at least a little help in the prior battle. Yet his gaze drifted again to the dwindling silhouettes of the orcs.
The woman who met him opened with a long string of words in a dialect so strange it was almost completely incomprehensible. It wasn't Noldorin, nor Telerin, nor even the ancient language of Rúmil's earliest writings. A rapturous curiosity he hadn't realized he could still feel gripped him as he realized that while his people had stagnated in Valinor, these Elves had undergone at least one major consonant shift, and if he’d heard right, a grammatical change that--
His attention pulled northward once more. His father's killer still lived. He'd have to delay the pleasure for just a few days.
Format: Double drabble
Genre: Drama
Rating: General
Warnings: No warnings apply
Characters: Feanor
Pairings:None
Summary: Enthusiasm for linguistics almost saves Feanor's life.
Feänáro cast about but failed to find more fodder for his blade. It became increasingly clear they were driving the orc army into a full retreat. He itched to follow them, as they undoubtedly fled toward their dark Master. But Turcafinwë's forces had not yet rejoined them, and these odd local Elves, too like the treacherous Teleri, needed to be dealt with.
“I think their leader wants to talk to you,” Nelyafinwë murmured. Should he? They had been of at least a little help in the prior battle. Yet his gaze drifted again to the dwindling silhouettes of the orcs.
The woman who met him opened with a long string of words in a dialect so strange it was almost completely incomprehensible. It wasn't Noldorin, nor Telerin, nor even the ancient language of Rúmil's earliest writings. A rapturous curiosity he hadn't realized he could still feel gripped him as he realized that while his people had stagnated in Valinor, these Elves had undergone at least one major consonant shift, and if he’d heard right, a grammatical change that--
His attention pulled northward once more. His father's killer still lived. He'd have to delay the pleasure for just a few days.
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