Disclaimer: They’re all Tolkien’s, not mine.

Big thanks to Vana Tuivana for her spotting eye throughout this series, and to Nilmandra for allowing me to post in this wonderful site of hers

Under the Starlight 

“When I stayed behind, Ulmo showed me many things to come, happy and sad alike. But he never showed me the joy and grieving of parenthood…”

The drawknife moved steadily across the wooden surface.  

“He’s been but a small wave in the tides of my long years. And yet, it seems my life has meaning only because of the joy he brought to me...”

The planer stopped abruptly.

“Marry Celebrían, Elrond, and father her children. Nothing on Arda is more important than that!”

They sat in silence, remembering the radiance of a star that had briefly shone upon their lives.

(Word count 100)       Nov. 2004

A/N: Cause sometimes it is difficult to stop saying goodbye

Disclaimer:  See chapter 1

Upon the Hills of Hithlum

“It pains me to leave you thus, my lord…”

“It would hurt me more to know that you two were not safe. It is better this way…”

She knows how his tender heart aches, and how ghosts at Barad Eithel will disturb him more than he would ever care to admit.

The moment has come and the High King kisses his wife’s hand, not trusting his voice; everything has been said before, and words are not needed when hearts are bleeding.

So now Fingon stands still and silent, watching, as two more pieces of his heart disappear from his life.

A/N:  Cause sometimes we know it’s forever, but we refuse to let show…

word count 100. Nov 2004

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

“WE’LL MEET AGAIN.“

(…)” He did on his silver arms, and took his white helm, and his sword Ringil, and his blue shield set with a star of crystal”. º

Memories flooded his mind: jet hair glistening in Telperion’s trembling light, her soft kisses and tender whispers, “I love you,” his father and his brothers, the loved ones that were lost…

Rochallor neighed, sensing his master's mood.

"Tonight we ride, my friend," the High King said grimly, patting his charger’s neck.

Behind the stall door, grey eyes followed him worriedly. Fingolfin knelt with a sad smile. “We’ll meet again Ereinion, we’ll meet again”

A/N: Cause sometimes parting words will haunt us forever

ºThe Grey Annals, 456 F.A. HoME vol 11

(Word count 100 ) Dec 2004

Disclaimer: They’re Tolkien’s, not mine

BROTHERLY LOVE

“My Lord and Father, I am sending the last remnants of my cellars before finally departing Nevrast.  

The carved kegs treasure an exquisite “Late Harvest” from the sunniest slopes of Mount Taras, which should please you greatly. Those fifty great barrels contain the customary strong red wine, so adequate for Hithlum’s untamed climate and palates.You may want to keep the unmarked casks from my brother’s yearly revelries in Dorthonion; that spirit comes from my own private vineyard.

With love,

Turgon, King of Gondolin”

Fingon’s eyebrows attempted escape. "He named his city  “Gondolin”? Where was he when Mandos spoke doomº?”

A/N: º “ And great shall be the fall of Gondolin” LT, Chp. VII

If you want to know about Fingon’s “yearly revelries in Dorthonion” just click the NEXT button.

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

FIVE FINWIONS MEET IN THE HIGHLANDS OF DORTHONION, WINTER, FIRST AGE 455, TO SETTLE A YEARLY CONTEST.

“I broke into the King’s cellars, surely it counts as an offence?”

“Only if Uncle got to know, Fingon”

“Oh!”

“So, Orodreth?”

“Yet unable to produce an heir, I fear.”

“Angrod?”

“Greeted Cirdan’s ambassador in Quenya…”

“Oh, brother! Aegnor?”

A sad gaze meets a compassionate one.

“I lost my bow. In a wager. Against an andreth.”

“Shameful!” 

“Piteous!”

“Pathetic!”

“Winsome!”

“Says who? It’s been years since you last did something truly embarrassing, Finrod!”

“Well, having us all expelled from Doriath gave me quite a lead, I’d say…”

“You win, Aegnor, you bring the wine! Same place, next year”

In winter, FA 455, the first assault of the Dagor Bragollach swept away Ard-Galen and part of Dorthonion. Angrod and Aegnor fell then.

A/N: Cause the saddest of goodbyes is the one you never get to say…. 

Word count: 100 words. Dec 2004

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

FATHER AND SON, Take 1

“I cannot desert him now; you’ll do well, Nolofinwë, you are wise and sensible.”

“But Atar, it’s your people you’re deserting!”

“Do not blame me! It’s to my son’s side that my duty calls me now!” 

He sat alone beside the throne and wept, for all the love that had been wasted while he struggled to please his father and half-brother.

It was thus that Nolofinwë learnt how Melko’s lies had a way of their own to become true.

For even if he was the one staying in Tirion, Fëanaro had finally succeeded in dislodging him from their Atar’s heart

A/N: 'Cause it's painful, when goodbyes come against one’s will

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

FATHER AND SON, TAKE 2

“So be it. Not before falling shall the child learn to rise and stand.”

Finrod stared at his father in disbelief.

“Lord of my House in Exile I name you, and yours shall be the duty of protecting my people. Do not fail me in this”

Frozen by stern words, Finrod felt stripped of his youthful innocence, choked on the feeling of bereavement.

“Your path is yours to choose; may Námo be gentle to you when you reach the bitter end, yonya”

Thus Finarfin left, and not a glance he spared for his fairest son, who was a child anymore.

Yonya: Quenya for my son. 

A/N ‘Cause unexpected goodbyes hurt deeper

(Word Count 100). Nov. 2004

Disclaimer:  See chapter 1.

WARNING: Awful rhyme looming!  

UNDER THE MALLORN TREE  (At the End of the Third Age, Remembering Doriath)

"Cirdan’s swan ships under Varda’s stars,

A mighty weapon of molten sparks,

Beleg’s bow, Mablung’s sword,

The jewels in Elu’s hoard…

Our ladies’ beauty all surpass "

“I’d regret to learn this war has blunted your poetic abilities…”

Celeborn turned haunted eyes to his wife.

“It’s not mine, my lady. It was Daeron’s parting gift, actually, although I suspect we were too drunk then to notice.”

They’d been carefree and happy that night. Shortly after, Daeron had discovered Lúthien in the company of a mortal; change had abruptly entered Doriath.

He still remembered that song. He still missed his friend.

A/N: Cause you’ll feel the pain long after you’ve forgotten the words

Word Count: 100; Jan 2005

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: The final form of this drabble was inspired by daw the minstrel’s wonderful stories. Most Humbly. 

UNDER THE TREES OF ERYN LASGALEN  

He had expected to find him there, watching the stars. He knew that look in his son’s eyes, the unbearable sea longing that no Elf could hope to defeat.

“How is it,” he wondered bitterly, “that in exchange for every victory I must lose a part of my heart?”

“He’ll be better there, closer to the sea,” he had lied to himself. Not even among the trees had he been able to find comfort. “Let him go,” they seemed to whisper. Or was it “one day you too will go?”

Thranduil sighed; then spoke. “You may go to Ithilien”

A/N: Cause sometimes you’ve said goodbye long before actually leaving

Word Count: 100; Jan 2005 

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

PITY  (Take 1)

“Pity you begged, and pity you were sent, son of Nolofinwë. Never, ever let anyone make you doubt that”º

Thorondor’s words were on Fingon’s mind again, as the dark fumes above Thangorodrim shadowed the High King’s stout heart.

“Was it truly pity? For whom?” Mandos’ Doom weighed heavily on his mind. But he was the Valiant, he would pursue what he deemed rightful and would not be deterred.

With a pained sigh he resolutely dragged his eyes from the south, the Havens, to the north, his fate.

A powerful trumpet filled the air. Fingon’s heart swelled.“Utúlie’n aurë,” he thought.

A/N: Cause sometimes we hope against hope it’s not a Last Goodbye

º Thorondor’s words are my very own, very personal, wholly AU, invention. Fingon's thoughts are not. "he day's come, it means in Quenya

Word Count: 100. Dec 2004

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

PITY (Take 2)

They watch each other for a while. Finally, the Elf looks away. He’s standing tall before a fiery pit, a powerful light surging from his clenched fist.

His only.

“Pity, he begged!” º

This one’s once beautiful voice is now hoarse and broken.

“And then he sent you?”

This Firstborn seems beyond rage, an unbearable grief marring his fair features.

“Why? So I could sink even lower and drag him along? If that’s Manwe’s pity, why should I fear Námo’s reckoning? Let his Doom be! ”

 “May you find your peace, Nelyafinwë Fëanorion.” And with a sad bow, Thorondor flies away.

A/N: Cause sometimes leaving is as painful as remaining.

º “O King to whom all birds are dear, speed now this feathered shaft, and recall some pity for the Noldor in their need!" (Silmarillion, ch.13)”

Word count: 100; Dec 2004

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

BEYOND THE CIRCLES OF THE WORLD, TAKE 1

A bright morning dawns upon the blessed island of Elennaº. The wind blows gently from the west, dispelling the last threads of clouds.

The old man sighs. “Avallónë must be a sight today, from the high seat in Meneltarma.” He bows his head in a thankful prayer to the Lord of Winds. He has neither regrets, nor cares, nor failed hopes. His life’s been long and plentiful, and now he’s ready to accept the Gift of Men.

And yet, he awaits something.

A bright star blazes across the summer sky. The old man smiles. “Namärie, Atar.”

Thus passes Tar- Minyatur.

º Quenya name of Númenor, 'Starwards', from the guidance of the Edain by Eärendil on their voyage to Númenor at the beginning of the Second Age” (Silm, index of names)

 A/N: Cause, as Gandalf says, “not all tears are an evil” (ROTK, The Grey Havens) 

Word count: 100. Feb.2005

Disclaimer: see chapter 1 

BEYOND THE CIRCLES OF THE WORLD. TAKE 2  

It is seldom that I stray from my appointed course, but when the sea birds brought the tidings to Elwing, we sailed in haste towards the Land of Giftº

Strange fate, the Gift of Men! Long I’ve coursed Manwë’s waves and seen not a trace of their abode.  Where that Last Haven lies remains a mystery to me. 

Let the light that once tore us apart brighten now your way, my son! Close your eyes and let me hold you. One day we’ll come to you, beyond the circles of the world, to Arda Unmarred. Until then, namárië, my son.

º Andor: The Land of Gift, Numenor (Silm, index of names)

Word count 100