B-10 Erulisse - Wings of Song
Mar. 7th, 2012 08:46 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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b2memB2MeM Challenge: B-10 – Maglor in History – The One Ring is Destroyed, Landscape – Mountain Gap, Botany – Rowqn
Format: Fictlet
Genre: Drama
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Maglor
Pairings: None
Summary: Travelling through the Misty Mountains while the Ring was destroyed, the news was still brought to Maglor, and the earth still celebrated the destruction of Sauron’s evil.
Wings of Song
The gap in the mountains stretched ahead, the only pass through this part of the Misty Mountains. Looking ahead, he saw that far ahead the path continued on above the tree line. The trees next to the path were a mix of conifers and rowan trees. He reached out to a rowan and, asking its permission, breaking off a small portion and tucking it into the strap of his covered harp. Rowan was used for protection against evil – physical or spiritual. Up here, walking on the bones of the mountains, he could use all of the protection he could get.
The mountains were riddled with goblins and an extensive system of caves. The Woodland elves under the command of King Thranduil had made great inroads in clearing out the goblin caverns near Mirkwood, but he was far beyond their influence. So far he had managed to avoid the roaming packs, but there had been a couple of scouts he had been obligated to destroy when it had been either kill or be killed.
Once, two of Lord Manwë’s eagles had swooped down on a small group of goblins that had been following him, scattering them and throwing them off his trail. He had waved his appreciation, and when he had trapped some hares later on, had left two carcasses on an open flat stone as a ‘thank you’ to his winged allies. But he felt, in his heart, that the eagles had helped him from their personal generosity, not by the orders of the Vala.
Suddenly the ground shook, nearly throwing him off his feet. Maglor reached out blindly, grabbing a nearby branch to help him keep his balance. The first wave was followed by another series of trembles. He had never felt anything like this in the mountains before, although along the seashore he had sometimes experienced earthquakes.
He felt an unexpected lightening in his heart. The sorrow and hopelessness that had been increasing year after year as Barad-dûr had been rebuilding and expanding seemed to be receding. The evil throughout Middle Earth had been growing, spreading into areas of the land which, before this, had been relatively untouched. Now it seemed that things were going to change again, and for the better this time. ‘Why do I feel this optimistic? What has happened?’ he asked himself.
No additional aftershocks came, so Maglor released the branch with his thanks and continued his progress towards the highest peaks far ahead of him. Two days later, as he was passing near the eyrie of one of the Great Eagles, it left its nest, flying down and landing slightly ahead of him, just off the path.
“Son of Fëanor,” the eagle croaked. “I bear news to lighten your load and brighten your heart.”
Maglor bowed deeply in front of the bird. “You pay me great honor by speaking to me.”
“Yes,” the eagle agreed.
Maglor thought to himself that the eagles had as much humility as their vaunted Lord Manwë, but deemed it wiser to say nothing. The eagle ruffled its feathers and preened below its outspread wing, then focused once more on the elf in front of him.
“Know you that the Ring of Power, that which had been on Sauron’s hand and then lost by Isildur in the rushing waters so long ago, has been destroyed,” the eagle cried. “A hobbit from the land called the Shire carried the Ring to Mount Orodruin, casting it back into the flames where it had been born.”
“Blessed be,” Maglor exclaimed. There was little that could happen in Endor that shocked him after all of this time, but this piece of news had just done so. A hobbit had succeeded in achieving the impossible and a great evil had left the land.
He bowed towards the great bird. “Thank you for choosing to share this news with me. I suddenly feel hope for this damaged land and have you to thank for this renewed optimism. May the wind always rise under your wings.”
The bird bobbed its head in acknowledgement and spread its wings, taking off to return to its nest. Maglor resumed walking over the mountains, but that night, he took out his harp and played a song of praise before beginning to compose a song of thanksgiving. Over the years to come, the song that he played that night became one of the most popular of those that praised the end of the evil in the south.
Format: Fictlet
Genre: Drama
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Maglor
Pairings: None
Summary: Travelling through the Misty Mountains while the Ring was destroyed, the news was still brought to Maglor, and the earth still celebrated the destruction of Sauron’s evil.
Wings of Song
The gap in the mountains stretched ahead, the only pass through this part of the Misty Mountains. Looking ahead, he saw that far ahead the path continued on above the tree line. The trees next to the path were a mix of conifers and rowan trees. He reached out to a rowan and, asking its permission, breaking off a small portion and tucking it into the strap of his covered harp. Rowan was used for protection against evil – physical or spiritual. Up here, walking on the bones of the mountains, he could use all of the protection he could get.
The mountains were riddled with goblins and an extensive system of caves. The Woodland elves under the command of King Thranduil had made great inroads in clearing out the goblin caverns near Mirkwood, but he was far beyond their influence. So far he had managed to avoid the roaming packs, but there had been a couple of scouts he had been obligated to destroy when it had been either kill or be killed.
Once, two of Lord Manwë’s eagles had swooped down on a small group of goblins that had been following him, scattering them and throwing them off his trail. He had waved his appreciation, and when he had trapped some hares later on, had left two carcasses on an open flat stone as a ‘thank you’ to his winged allies. But he felt, in his heart, that the eagles had helped him from their personal generosity, not by the orders of the Vala.
Suddenly the ground shook, nearly throwing him off his feet. Maglor reached out blindly, grabbing a nearby branch to help him keep his balance. The first wave was followed by another series of trembles. He had never felt anything like this in the mountains before, although along the seashore he had sometimes experienced earthquakes.
He felt an unexpected lightening in his heart. The sorrow and hopelessness that had been increasing year after year as Barad-dûr had been rebuilding and expanding seemed to be receding. The evil throughout Middle Earth had been growing, spreading into areas of the land which, before this, had been relatively untouched. Now it seemed that things were going to change again, and for the better this time. ‘Why do I feel this optimistic? What has happened?’ he asked himself.
No additional aftershocks came, so Maglor released the branch with his thanks and continued his progress towards the highest peaks far ahead of him. Two days later, as he was passing near the eyrie of one of the Great Eagles, it left its nest, flying down and landing slightly ahead of him, just off the path.
“Son of Fëanor,” the eagle croaked. “I bear news to lighten your load and brighten your heart.”
Maglor bowed deeply in front of the bird. “You pay me great honor by speaking to me.”
“Yes,” the eagle agreed.
Maglor thought to himself that the eagles had as much humility as their vaunted Lord Manwë, but deemed it wiser to say nothing. The eagle ruffled its feathers and preened below its outspread wing, then focused once more on the elf in front of him.
“Know you that the Ring of Power, that which had been on Sauron’s hand and then lost by Isildur in the rushing waters so long ago, has been destroyed,” the eagle cried. “A hobbit from the land called the Shire carried the Ring to Mount Orodruin, casting it back into the flames where it had been born.”
“Blessed be,” Maglor exclaimed. There was little that could happen in Endor that shocked him after all of this time, but this piece of news had just done so. A hobbit had succeeded in achieving the impossible and a great evil had left the land.
He bowed towards the great bird. “Thank you for choosing to share this news with me. I suddenly feel hope for this damaged land and have you to thank for this renewed optimism. May the wind always rise under your wings.”
The bird bobbed its head in acknowledgement and spread its wings, taking off to return to its nest. Maglor resumed walking over the mountains, but that night, he took out his harp and played a song of praise before beginning to compose a song of thanksgiving. Over the years to come, the song that he played that night became one of the most popular of those that praised the end of the evil in the south.
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no subject
Date: 2012-03-08 10:27 am (UTC)Maglor bowed deeply in front of the bird. “You pay me great honor by speaking to me.”
“Yes,” the eagle agreed.
I loved this part especially. An eagle of Manwe would let Maglor feel his exile, wouldn't he? (Though all in all, and that's not a reflection on your writing) the story would be easier to read if it weren't bolded completely.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-08 11:08 am (UTC)I rather liked my puffed-up pile of feathers. As my mother would remind me..."Attitude....attitude..." - LOL. Thanks for your review, it's very much appreciated.
- Erulisse (one L)