Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

Rolling on his side, Smaug thought perhaps he should find a fiery lady dragon. No. She would only be after his treasures anyway: or his body. He was, after all, the most powerful and cunning beast in Middle Earth.

That Balrog thought he was. Puuuulease. Just because you have a whip, doesn’t mean you are in charge. That whip may impress the locals but Smaug knew that Balrog roasted his marshmallows just like Smaug did.

Then they rolled a dwarf in them, squished them in between graham crackers, and chocolate.

This was written as a Bad Guy challenge drabble. My friend Viv and I picked each other's characters for an extra challenge.

Her ballad carried through the air and caressed his fëa, seducing him to forget what he was seeking. Brushing aside dew drenched leaves and willowy limbs of barely mature trees, he followed the nightingales to her enchanting lay. He stumbled into darkness only lit by stars, and then at last, pure and beautiful light and he looked upon her most fair.

They spoke not a word for their love and desire for each other was known in their hearts.

The pain of the arrows that pierced his body was mild compared to the pain in his heart. He had betrayed the fellowship and lost his honor. Now he paid the ultimate price for his sins. He had failed to protect Merry and Pippin. No matter the cost, he had would have taken the ring from Frodo. He had shamed his father. Faramir would never admit his disappointment in his weakness. Gondor would fall. Hope was lost.

In his last moments, he saw the kingly heir of Elendil kneeling beside him. As Boromir lay dying, Aragorn whispered,

Sam, holding Frodo on the side of Mount Doom, was crying. They had come so far. Frodo was losing his battle with the evil of the ring. They were both so weary yet they had to go on.

‘Remind him of the Shire,’ Sam thought to himself, ‘it will give him the strength he needs.’

Sam’s heart sank; always having the Shire in mind made all of this worth it. How could Frodo continue without thoughts of saving the Shire?

“Please…” his mother pleaded. “Do not follow your father on this path.”

His dark eyes met hers for barely a moment before he looked down, unable to face her tears.

“I must go with him,” Celebrimbor said softly.

“You did not swear this oath. It is not too late for you to…” Her eyes turned angry, as she said spitefully, “And what of your loyalty to me? You will never be able to restore your father’s honor. It will be the death of you.”

Picking up his sword, Celebrimbor turned away replying, “I must go; he needs me. Farewell mother.”

This was written really quickly to cheer up Jael And I'd also like to dedicate it to Elliska, my beta, friend, and Thranduil o'holic. She did not beta this piece however (its unbeta'd so forgive any mistakes let me know) So Jael and Elliska - this one is for you. :0)

~o~o~o~

Thranduil adjusted his robes as he ascended the stairs. Although he disliked the elaborate formal attire, he was a vision of regal authority and grace, his golden hair falling upon the sapphire silk like the sun spilled into the sea at dusk. A small mischievous smile pulled at the corners of the King’s mouth.

“Thranduil, my word, what were you thinking? If Legolas could have managed to disappear into a puff of smoke after what you said to Lady Galadriel, I think he would have been grateful to all the Valar." His mother’s words caused a rich chuckle in response.

“Naneth, you worry overmuch,” he replied, with a wink.

Clucking her tongue, his mother shook her head. “Do not think merely because you are king that this behavior of yours will be overlooked. Besides, is it wise to be so forward towards Galadriel in front of her husband? You do not wish for tension between our lands.”

Smiling broadly, Thranduil nodded. “Trust me, nana. I know the way to forge a long lasting bond with Lothlorien is through Lady Galadriel. And you have always told me to use flattery to charm a lady. It always works with you.”

Eyes narrowing, his mother rapped him lightly on the chest. “It is not charming to say that her riding skills are so impressive you were surprised the horse was not as aroused as you were. By all that is holy, Thranduil, there are times when I wonder why you think that ladies appreciate discussing their ‘abilities’ behind closed doors as acceptable dinner conversation.”

“At any rate, you managed to sooth Lord Celeborn quite well,” Thranduil continued to chuckle as he hugged his mother tightly. “Whatever would I do without you?”

“And whatever will I do with you?” she sighed before reluctantly smiling.

Thanks so much to Gwynnyd, Oshun, and Lissa for the beta and advice. The Lady Macbeth connection was completely Oshun's input. Thanks again!

Dedicated to Dawn Felagund for being forgiving and protective like Uncle Maedhros.

The cool water turned red as Maedhros watched Celebrimbor washing his hands, scrubbing them until the skin was reddened and raw. Pouring clean water, Celebrimbor winced as he dipped his hands repeatedly into the basin as if trying to remove all traces, all visual memory of the sins he had just committed, as if he could wash away the taint as thoroughly as the blood of his kin.

Maedhros walked over and took Celebrimbor by the wrists, seeing the damage he had done to his hands. Putting one arm around his nephew’s shoulders, he said, “Celebrimbor, there is no more blood. It is over now.”

“Is it?” he asked. “Or has it just begun? Will you ever be able to forget the sight of them pleading for mercy even as we ended their lives? The smell of blood on the sea air?” Celebrimbor tried not to retch, but his body shook uncontrollably.

Maedhros was reminded of Celebrimbor’s father made his first kill and his reaction. As Celebrimbor was now experiencing, the shock of death had shaken them both to the core. But this was so much worse.

What had they done? What madness had overtaken them to kill their own kin? Maedhros knew they had made a tragic mistake and were damned to live with it for eternity.

Celebrimbor shook his head, glancing up at Maedhros pleadingly. “I cannot, Uncle. I cannot face Grandfather. Not now. Perhaps never again.”

Understanding his nephew’s plight, Maedhros picked up the bucket. “Celebrimbor, you must find it in your heart to forgive him. We made our own choice and now we must find a way to live with it.”

A/N Thanks to Gwynnyd for her beta assistance. Tolkien owns all accept my demented mind.

Happy birthday Binka!!! I hope you like it Binka-dinka-doo.

~~**~~

Feanor, mighty amongst the Firstborn, crafted me filled with the light of Telperion and Laurelin; hallowed by Varda.

Melkor, lusting for my radiance, stole me in the night. His prize treasure, I graced his iron crown.

Many covet me, thirsting for my light to quench their need. Elves died for me. I’m unique – irreplaceable - greatest of the three most perfect gems ever wrought by mind and hand. Wars were fought for me!

Now, could someone please explain to me why I am lying here at the bottom of the damn ocean, covered in barnacles, and surrounded by fish poop?

A/N In my defense - people requested that I write the other two. A follow up to Reflections in the Deep - OSA Drabble Challenge: Jumping In

You’d think that gems that are ‘alive, imperishable, and sacred’ would be treated with more respect than we were. Things all started going downhill when Melkor dragged us out of Formenos with his creepy friend. I lost a lot of respect for him when he screamed like a girl over a spider. Seriously.

Then to stick us in his crown like he’s Princess Barbie and we’re his bling? At least there we were safe from the idiot spawn of Feanor. Talk about apples falling far from the tree!

Then because that one-handed nitwit thought he could fly, I’m…Eru knows where!

'I feel pretty. Oh so pretty. I feel pretty and witty and bright!'

For so long I had to share the spotlight and glory with them. They often chided me that they were the true gems and I was only the spare. As if. Beren and Luthien picked me over them, because, after all, that Luthien was a snazzy dresser with excellent taste. But then all that mess with her son, Dior. Simply tragic. All because he had to be cocky and stick me in a necklace and flaunt me around. Of course, the Feanorians got all upset about it. They aren’t known for being rational after all. Do you know how hard it is to wash blood off ‘unknown materials’? It is not as though Feanor left any washing instructions behind.

And then sometime later that drama queen Elwing had to go throw herself into the sea! Good thing the Valar realized I was best kept out of reach, sticking me on her husband’s brow. Here I am sitting pretty on Vingilot in the skies. What is a gem to do?

As I look down upon the lesser two Silmarils, I only have two words for them.

Neener Neener.

A/N I Feel Pretty ~ Words by Stephen Sondheim from the musical West Side Story
Silmaril belongs to JRRT himself. I own nothing.

Celebrimbor reflects on his father's final act.

~Triple drabble~ Drabble Challenge #101 - Reflection and Tolkien Tango Challenge #21 - Silence

~*~

“Celebrimbor, there’s news about your father.” An elleth stood in the doorway.

Seeing her reddened eyes and tear-streaked face, Celebrimbor stiffened slightly, but schooled his features to not betray his emotions as she told him the details of Doriath. He closed his eyes to not see her deep sorrow at another kinslaying, hearing death wails over the aria forever playing within his heart.

‘He’s gone. No hope he’ll repent. It’s over.’

“Elwing, daughter of Dior, has the Silmaril,” the elleth whispered.

Silence. The music hesitated for long breathless moments. It was so quiet, he felt like screaming.

Celebrimbor nodded, as agony wracked his fea. Her soft footsteps drifted out of his chambers and he opened his eyes, staring at the mirror before him. He resembled his father but where Curufin’s once-fair features were twisted with cruelty, pain and regret shadowed Celebrimbor’s face. He still remembered his father’s words when his father and uncle were driven from Nargothrond.

“If you turn from me now,” Curufin shouted at him, “you’re no longer part of me, nor do you have my love or loyalty. If you betray me, it’s the death of you in my mind.”

“Adar, this unrelenting Oath is driving you mad. I cannot be loyal to that any longer or it will blacken my fea completely - as it will blacken yours if you do not turn from this path of deviltry," Celebrimbor pleaded. “You are not Feanor. Do not make the same mistakes he made.”

His father looked him over with disgust. “No, his sons were loyal to him. And we still are.”

Celebrimbor watched until his father rode out of sight, unwilling to give up hope that he would turn back.

The music in his heart returned, more haunted. Celebrimbor shattered the mirror, casting aside his father’s reflection.

Dances with Tilion ~ Alassante's Drabbles by Alassante