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b2memB2MeM Prompt: "He was interested in roots and beginnings..."
Format: ficlet
Genre: gen
Rating: PG-13 for mention of violence
Warnings:
Characters: OC elves, Legolas, Aragorn II, Gandalf, Pippin (Mentions of Feanor and Fingolfin. Gimli, Frodo, Sam, and Merry are also present)
Pairings: OC/OC, though not really explored
Creator’s Notes (optional): For B2MEM, the first prompt was "He was interested in roots and beginnings..." OC names are taken from the realelvish.net randomizer, first lines, last lines, canon beginning and canon ending from SWG's randomizer. That's a lot to make sense of...hopefully I succeeded.
Summary: A gem-crafter of Imladris, prompted by a group of enthusiastic elflings, tries to tell the story of the most famous gems in all of Arda. May or may not be complete...
"It's time for you to go home," Teron said. The Silvan gem-crafter looked around at his interested audience, shaking his head as he flaked at a piece of crystal. He sat in the shelter of the stable of Imladris, eyeing the Noldorin and Sindarin elflings with wry amusement.
"But Teron," one young elleth objected, "Master Brûn said you would tell us the story!"
"Did he, now," Teron replied calmly, eyebrows furrowing as he pretended to think. "And what story would that be?"
"The story of the great jewels!" an ellon insisted. "The story!"
"Ah, that story," Teron said. "Well, you have to understand that this tale has been passed down for years beyond counting, from those who were not my kin. I was not there when this greatest of gem-masters made his great work." Indeed, he would think Brûn would recommend anyone else but him to tell this tale. Imladris was full of great lore-masters, including the greatest of all...But never mind.
"It begins long and long ago, ere Anor or Ithil were born, in the West of West when the Great Lights were yet Two Trees..."
The tale of Fëanor and the Silmarilli was told skillfully and with great flair, though Teron suitably toned down the facts of the matter to be safe. He did not want the elflings to have nightmares, or Belain forbid, start to hate the Powers. Their parents would never forgive him.
As he reached the part where Fëanor and Fingolfin nearly came to blows, where steel had been drawn, gasps came from his audience.
"Brothers shouldn't fight like that."
Teron snorted lightly. "Nay, they should not, young one. Yet do you not fight with your brothers betimes?"
"But not like that," the elfling complained. "Didn't their ada do anything?"
"Nay, that he did not," Teron said gravely. "It fell to the Belain to intervene. They were not happy in the least."
"I certainly don't blame them."
Teron looked up at the new voice, chuckling as his best friend, Laucion, strolled into view. The chestnut-haired ellon offered a smirk. "If I had to deal with grown ellyn behaving like squabbling elflings I'd give them a piece of my mind, or the flat of my blade," he added, twirling his sword. The elflings ooohed at the trick.
"Oh please!" Teron shoved Laucion lightly. "Put that away. If Captain Glorfindel sees you corrupting the elflings with your fancy tricks he'll banish you for another week. I'm telling a story, and you interrupted."
"My apologies." Laucion sheathed his blade and offered Teron a bow. "Pray continue."
Teron nodded, and told the part of Fëanor and his own banishment as carefully as possible. He heard the elflings stirring and muttering amongst themselves.
"All this for some fancy jewels?" one complained. "I thought Fëanor was an ellon, not an elleth."
"Cease that nonsense at once," Laucion interjected as the elfling's comment elicited a shriek from two ellith who shoved him over. The warrior's sharp command stilled them all.
"Sorry, Teron."
"We're sorry, Master Teron."
"That is better. Now may I please finish the story you asked for?"
"Yes, sir," came the dutiful chorus, and sighing, Teron continued. He lost himself in the telling again, letting Laucion keep order. When at last he came to the murder of Finwe and the theft of the Silmarilli, he struggled with how best to convey the horror of this first slaying in Aman, and faltered.
"I...do not think...that is..."
"Good."
All of them jumped, looking round. A strange Elf stood there, garbed in hunting greens and browns, his bow strapped to his back and his blue eyes haunted. He pushed his warrior braids back from his face. "It is too dark a tale for ones so young. Go, elflings. It truly is time you went home, where you will be safe."
Something in his manner convinced them as Teron had not, and the elflings vanished into the trees, Laucion following to see they obeyed. Teron stood automatically and offered the stranger a profound bow, stirred by some innate nobility in this simply garbed Elf. "My lord?"
"Legolas Thranduilion of the Taur-nu-Fuin," he replied. Teron sucked in a breath.
"My lord prince. You are welcome to Imladris, though I gather you have not just arrived here. I trust our lord has hosted you well."
"Aye, so he has, and I am just leaving in fact, I with my companions. You would do well to say naught of our coming or going."
Teron frowned, slipping into the shadows as others passed by. A strange Man, a Dwarf, all very well - though a Dwarf in company with the son of Thranduil was passing strange - the one he had known as Estel, and four pheriain, not unlike their houseguest Bilbo Baggins, though much younger. At the last came Mithrandir, who cast a knowing look in Teron's direction.
"Be well, friend," Mithrandir murmured. "May Imladris remain at peace for as long as possible. Troubled times are coming, I fear."
"Who was that you were talking to, Gandalf?" A piping voice floated back to the Wood-elf as Teron watched them from the shadows.
"No one special," Estel said hurriedly. "Just someone that we used to know."
Format: ficlet
Genre: gen
Rating: PG-13 for mention of violence
Warnings:
Characters: OC elves, Legolas, Aragorn II, Gandalf, Pippin (Mentions of Feanor and Fingolfin. Gimli, Frodo, Sam, and Merry are also present)
Pairings: OC/OC, though not really explored
Creator’s Notes (optional): For B2MEM, the first prompt was "He was interested in roots and beginnings..." OC names are taken from the realelvish.net randomizer, first lines, last lines, canon beginning and canon ending from SWG's randomizer. That's a lot to make sense of...hopefully I succeeded.
Summary: A gem-crafter of Imladris, prompted by a group of enthusiastic elflings, tries to tell the story of the most famous gems in all of Arda. May or may not be complete...
"It's time for you to go home," Teron said. The Silvan gem-crafter looked around at his interested audience, shaking his head as he flaked at a piece of crystal. He sat in the shelter of the stable of Imladris, eyeing the Noldorin and Sindarin elflings with wry amusement.
"But Teron," one young elleth objected, "Master Brûn said you would tell us the story!"
"Did he, now," Teron replied calmly, eyebrows furrowing as he pretended to think. "And what story would that be?"
"The story of the great jewels!" an ellon insisted. "The story!"
"Ah, that story," Teron said. "Well, you have to understand that this tale has been passed down for years beyond counting, from those who were not my kin. I was not there when this greatest of gem-masters made his great work." Indeed, he would think Brûn would recommend anyone else but him to tell this tale. Imladris was full of great lore-masters, including the greatest of all...But never mind.
"It begins long and long ago, ere Anor or Ithil were born, in the West of West when the Great Lights were yet Two Trees..."
The tale of Fëanor and the Silmarilli was told skillfully and with great flair, though Teron suitably toned down the facts of the matter to be safe. He did not want the elflings to have nightmares, or Belain forbid, start to hate the Powers. Their parents would never forgive him.
As he reached the part where Fëanor and Fingolfin nearly came to blows, where steel had been drawn, gasps came from his audience.
"Brothers shouldn't fight like that."
Teron snorted lightly. "Nay, they should not, young one. Yet do you not fight with your brothers betimes?"
"But not like that," the elfling complained. "Didn't their ada do anything?"
"Nay, that he did not," Teron said gravely. "It fell to the Belain to intervene. They were not happy in the least."
"I certainly don't blame them."
Teron looked up at the new voice, chuckling as his best friend, Laucion, strolled into view. The chestnut-haired ellon offered a smirk. "If I had to deal with grown ellyn behaving like squabbling elflings I'd give them a piece of my mind, or the flat of my blade," he added, twirling his sword. The elflings ooohed at the trick.
"Oh please!" Teron shoved Laucion lightly. "Put that away. If Captain Glorfindel sees you corrupting the elflings with your fancy tricks he'll banish you for another week. I'm telling a story, and you interrupted."
"My apologies." Laucion sheathed his blade and offered Teron a bow. "Pray continue."
Teron nodded, and told the part of Fëanor and his own banishment as carefully as possible. He heard the elflings stirring and muttering amongst themselves.
"All this for some fancy jewels?" one complained. "I thought Fëanor was an ellon, not an elleth."
"Cease that nonsense at once," Laucion interjected as the elfling's comment elicited a shriek from two ellith who shoved him over. The warrior's sharp command stilled them all.
"Sorry, Teron."
"We're sorry, Master Teron."
"That is better. Now may I please finish the story you asked for?"
"Yes, sir," came the dutiful chorus, and sighing, Teron continued. He lost himself in the telling again, letting Laucion keep order. When at last he came to the murder of Finwe and the theft of the Silmarilli, he struggled with how best to convey the horror of this first slaying in Aman, and faltered.
"I...do not think...that is..."
"Good."
All of them jumped, looking round. A strange Elf stood there, garbed in hunting greens and browns, his bow strapped to his back and his blue eyes haunted. He pushed his warrior braids back from his face. "It is too dark a tale for ones so young. Go, elflings. It truly is time you went home, where you will be safe."
Something in his manner convinced them as Teron had not, and the elflings vanished into the trees, Laucion following to see they obeyed. Teron stood automatically and offered the stranger a profound bow, stirred by some innate nobility in this simply garbed Elf. "My lord?"
"Legolas Thranduilion of the Taur-nu-Fuin," he replied. Teron sucked in a breath.
"My lord prince. You are welcome to Imladris, though I gather you have not just arrived here. I trust our lord has hosted you well."
"Aye, so he has, and I am just leaving in fact, I with my companions. You would do well to say naught of our coming or going."
Teron frowned, slipping into the shadows as others passed by. A strange Man, a Dwarf, all very well - though a Dwarf in company with the son of Thranduil was passing strange - the one he had known as Estel, and four pheriain, not unlike their houseguest Bilbo Baggins, though much younger. At the last came Mithrandir, who cast a knowing look in Teron's direction.
"Be well, friend," Mithrandir murmured. "May Imladris remain at peace for as long as possible. Troubled times are coming, I fear."
"Who was that you were talking to, Gandalf?" A piping voice floated back to the Wood-elf as Teron watched them from the shadows.
"No one special," Estel said hurriedly. "Just someone that we used to know."
no subject
Date: 2020-03-01 05:52 pm (UTC)Well done for starting off, and with such a complex set of prompts, too!
And the ending of this piece is effective, too, ending on a rather more sombre note.
no subject
Date: 2020-03-02 04:52 pm (UTC)