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

Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel
Title: Celeborn
Rating: G
Theme: Poetry
Elements: Noun, Tree
Author's Notes: Written for the April Challenge.
Summary: In the West, Galadriel's observer muses on the nature of her arborine companion.
Word Count: 52

Bring now the seeming
Of Telperion fair;
And below sits their daughter
Gold in her hair

Artanis Galadriel, Celeborn's wife
Laurelin's light in her eyes
dwells by the White Tree's side.

A poem, in the form of a pantoum, spoken (or thought) by Galathil, her father (Celeborn’s younger brother) on Nimloth’s wedding day to Dior Eluchil, son of Beren and Lúthien.

A/N: Aglarwen, Galathil's wife, is an OC of mine and Emma's. In our-verse, Amdir, later king of Lothlorien, is the brother of Nimloth and son of Galathil and Aglarwen.

Where did this child-Queen come from?
I look upon her with tender eyes,
And marvel that I fathered her.
My little white blossom, my jewel—

I look upon her with tender eyes,
And remember days long past,
My little white blossom, my jewel!
It seems but yesterday, even now.

When I remember days long past,
She was just a babe in my arms.
It seems but yesterday, even now,
That my Aglarwen birthed her.

She was just a babe in my arms,
Our Amdir standing by my side,
After Aglarwen birthed her,
Our heir met Nimloth first.

With Amdir standing by my side,
I greeted you, my daughter,
Amdir saw you first, Nimloth,
Ere the rest laid eyes upon you.

I welcomed you, my daughter,
Knowing you would one day be a bride.
Amdir felt deepest love for you,
Vowing to protect you with all his heart.

Knowing one day you would be a bride,
We watched and waited as you grew.
Amdir vowed to protect you with all his heart,
We knew he would never fail his promise.

We watched and waited as you grew,
But never would we have expected this joining!
Amdir never failed in his promise,
And now the Eluchil, your husband, will keep it.

Never did we expect this joining,
Bringing our line together with Uncle Elu.
The Eluchil, Dior, will keep Amdir’s promise.
May he defend you all the days of your life!

To join our line with Aran Thingol, Uncle Elu,
You followed the course of your heart.
May Dior defend you, as a husband ought!
Live in blessed happiness, daughter mine.

As you follow the course of your heart,
I marvel I, Galathil, fathered you.
May you live in happiness forever,
My Queen, my white blossom, my Nimloth.

B2MeM Challenge: “like certain circumstances in the Citadel”, I18 – Palantir, I22 – Kin-Strife, Osgiliath,
What is a role model to you? Do role models require certain qualities for you? How should people relate to their role models? Write a story, poem or create an artwork based on characters who are role models for their people.

Format: poem (dribble, double inverted)
Genre: Character study
Rating: PG-13 for mention of blood, ghosts and death but nothing graphic.
Warnings: My first time at this format. I hope Dreamflower will approve...
Characters: Eldacar
Pairings: Valacar/Vidumavia (mentioned)
Creators' Notes (optional): In my 'verse, Eldacar is the name of Eldarion's grandson through his eldest son Valandil (also my OC)
Summary: Eldacar the King…and Eldacar the prince.

Eldacar, the half-blood king of Gondor, wars with his kin.
He, Vidumavia’s son, holds the Citadel of the Stars.
Vinitharya, Valacar’s heir, of North and South together.
Castamir, Captain of Ships, slew his son.
Ornendil! His blood cries for vengeance.
Eldacar sits alone under stars.
Holding the Master Stone,
He wishes for
It to
End.

A
New age
Sees Osgiliath rebuilt.
Amidst the graves of
His noble ancestors, the prince
Walks at whiles. Ornendil, he sees
For the ghosts of the Fall speak
To this small great-grandson of Elessar. He returns
Their greetings, too young yet to be afraid.
Of barrow-wights he knows nothing. These remnants are harmless
And salute their prince, Eldacar of Gondor, of Telcontar’s House.

B2MEM Challenge: I29: ghazal (Poetic Forms), What is the most tedious, routine work that you have to do? Write down a few tedious or routine tasks that you're sometimes required to perform. How does doing routine work make you feel? Would you like to have somebody do it for you? Now write a story, poem or create an artwork where characters have to deal with tedious jobs.

B2MEM 2015: Khamûl’s Sulfurous Exfoliants (for my prompt. This ficlet is slightly inspired by, but not officially related to, the crackfic inspired by same last year.)
Format: ficlet, poetry
Genre: Crack, probably. Also romance? Ish? Humor? Depends on what you find funny…I laughed so hard writing it…
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Um. Do not eat or drink anything while reading.
Characters: Khamûl, Ringwraiths
Pairings: Three/you’ll see
Creator’s Notes (optional): This came to me when I was rereading the Poetic Forms card, and saw “ghazal” which to me sounded like a Ringwraith name or something. I asked my friend Anda what a Ringwraith might write poetry about, and she said “Find out.” Challenge accepted….and now I feel weird.
Summary: At Tharbad’s Greenway Spring Faire one year, Wraith Three whiles away the time between customers by jotting down some poetry that was running through his head. He never expected the subject of his poetry to find it…

Wraith Three lifted his head-that-wasn’t and shot a baleful glare in Khamûl’s direction. Or tried to. Not having eyes was a distinct disadvantage, though he still managed (somehow) to see what he’d been writing. (How he did that without hands was problematic as well, but he merely chose not to think about it.)

Maggots and mealworms! Three hated the idea Khamûl had taken into his head, going into the Sulfurous Exfoliant business after the downfall of their Master. True, it had proved lucrative, but the very idea meant they were invited back to Tharbad’s yearly Spring Faire again. And that meant minding the stall, instead of working on – well. He glanced down at the sinuous curves and careful flourishes of the Tengwar he’d been writing out, proofreading his work. Black Speech, of course, but no reason not to make it as pretty as possible. He might be a Wraith now, but he was still a Lord. And a poet.

“Give me a minute, boss,” he snapped back, tone laden with just the right amount of aristocratic scorn. “I’m busy here, I said.”

“Don’t make me send Seven after you, Zimrathor,” Khamûl threatened, and the sound of Three’s true name on his superior’s – lips? – made his nonexistent blood freeze. “She has some…creative ideas about what to do with you.”

He remembered when he first found out Seven was – had been – a woman. That had proved interesting. But if Seven should see…He got up, accidentally knocking the paper to the ground in his haste. “All right, all right, keep your cloak on. I’m coming.”

He didn’t see Seven, wreathed in the shadows, slip out of the corner of his room and pick up the paper. Smirking facelessly, she glanced down at her prize, and began to read…

I have a lovely maid in mind; her cloak is of the finest silk.
To her howls I can only compare those of the Eastern wind.

Her hair, her hair so dark and fair, goes streaming out be-
Hind; as I go walking along with her, amidst the wild wind.

My love, whose eyes were soft and kind, can smile no more,
For the Rings we bore from us tore such features; the wind

Swept up and over the Western Lands, so long and long ago,
Beautiful, she, and handsome I, and in the stormy sea-wind

Such life and beauty as we did die, until all was left behind
Never with blessed kin we’d rest, for cursed were we – by wind.

Seven’s nonexistent eyebrows rose sharply. Who knew Zimrathor could write like this? The Rings we bore…Her eye sockets narrowed with sudden understanding. Zimrathor loved her. Her! Even after all these long centuries. When he had been given many chances to speak in ancient Númenor, long dead, he had never…

And with this realization striking her undead heart, she who had been Vardilmë, once of Andúnië, wept ashy tears.

B2MeM Challenge: 2016 Memories; 2007 Alphabet – like an evil Elrond
Format: Poem – Pantoum
Genre: Um…character study, I think.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mention of the attack of the Havens of Sirion, though nothing graphic.
Characters: Eärendil, Elwing, Elros, Elrond
Pairings: Eärendil/Elwing
Creators' Notes (optional): This pantoum is rather longer than usual, since it’s based off the ‘Song of Eärendil’. It may be found in Elrond’s Library – on a shelf so high no hobbit can reach it! (That’s what makes him evil. *nods* Hiding poetry from a poem-loving hobbit! Oh well, maybe Aragorn will be kind and fetch it for him? I had a terrible time thinking of a way to make Elrond evil, believe you me. :P )
Summary: Elrond, hearing the Song of Eärendil sung by Bilbo in the Hall of Fire, retired to his rooms afterward and took up his own pen. This is what came out.

"Eärendil was a mariner
that tarried in Arvernien;
he built a boat of timber felled
in Nimbrethil to journey in…”

That tarried in Arvernien –
Beeches, tall, fairest and pale
In Nimbrethil, to journey in
The fairest ship to ever sail!

Beeches, tall, fairest and pale
Gave their wood to aid their lord,
For fairest ship to ever sail,
The Peredhel did swiftly board.

They gave wood to aid their lord
In building him the Vingilótë;
The Peredhel did swiftly board,
Westward, Sea bore Elven-boat.

In building him the Vingilótë,
The Mariner one error made;
As westward Sea bore Elven-boat,
His wife and babes behind him stayed.

The Mariner one error made;
As in chainéd rings west he soared,
His wife and babes behind him stayed,
Unarmed and helpless near the shore.

In chainéd rings westward he soared,
Rune-scored shield he kept by him;
Unarmed and helpless near the shore
Elwing and sons did mourn for him.

Rune-scored shield he kept by him,
And bow of dragon horn he wrought;
Elwing and sons did mourn for him,
When Sons of Fëanor they fought.

With bow of dragon-horn he wrought
He brought down birds of Outer Sea;
But when Sons of Fëanor she’d fought,
To him at last did Elwing flee.

He’d brought down birds of Outer Sea,
But for this bright one he stayed his hand.
To him at last did Elwing flee,
And in bird-shape on him did land.

For this bright one he’d stayed his hand –
Glad was he to find it so!
For in bird-shape Elwing on him did land
With the Nauglamir in tow.

Glad was he to find it so,
Perhaps Lord Ulmo stayed him there.
With the Nauglamir in tow,
The Silmaril bright Elwing did bear.

Mayhap Lord Ulmo had stayed him there,
But onward Vingilot! Westward speed!
The Silmaril bright Elwing did bear,
And the Mariner knew hope they did need.

Onward Vingilot! Westward speed,
The Valar we must press for aid,
The Mariner knew hope we did need,
The sons whose lives might be betrayed.

The Valar they did press for aid,
And Star of Hope in time did rise.
The sons who, abandoned, felt betrayed
Looked to Gil-Estel with new eyes.

The Star of Hope in time did rise,
Eärendil the Glorious, ever blessed
We found Gil-Estel with new eyes,
Elros and I, we passed the test.

Eärendil the Glorious, ever blessed
Returned no more to Mortal lands
Elros and I, we passed the test
Elros departed for Andor’s sands.

Returned no more from Mortal lands,
Elros Tar-Minyatur, brother mine,
He remained on Andor’s sands,
Accepting Gift of Men in time.

Elros Tar-Minyatur, brother mine,
How could you pass with not a sigh?
You accepted the Gift of Men –
I made my choice. Immortal, I.

How could you pass without a sigh
Of protest for that which Mortal means?
I made my choice, immortal, I,
The life of Men is too brief, it seems.

Protest that which Mortal means!
Would that I could have told you then,
The life of Men is too brief, it seems
And its Gift beyond my elven ken.

Would that I could have told you then!
Or built a ship of beech-wood felled,
Ere this Gift, beyond my Elven ken
Took you from me as our sire sailed.

B2MeM Prompt: Full Moon (Purple)
Format: Poetry
Genre:Crossover
Rating: PG
Warnings: Silliness, but also sadness.
Characters: Tilion, Lena (Anne B. Walsh)
Pairings: Tilion/OC (unrequited)
Creator’s Notes (optional): Lena, who narrates this poem, is a character from “The Moon-Polishers”, a short piece written by my friend Anne B. Walsh and collected in her first “Week in Review”. (She's published many other things besides.) I’ve chosen to believe Lena is a Maia or other Ainu, likely of lesser power than Tilion. My poem is unrhymed and somewhat random, as my poems often are. I can rarely fit them to a deliberate structure (unless the structure itself is the prompt.)
Summary: My name is Lena, and my job is very important. I help to polish the Moon… Lena, one of the thousands of Tilion's helpers, reflects on her lord and especially the change in his transport (and her responsibilities) over the Ages. Set in our current Age.

“Wax on, wax off” is the phrase the Aftercomers use in this Age
It describes mindless work, all with a lesson behind it.
I help to polish Isil, bring him to the highest gloss
For you!

For you, my Lord Tilion, I do this
I, and my thousands of brothers and sisters.
We sweep away the dust, bringing this shining orb to full
The “waxing quarter”. I remember long Ages past
When this dusty rock was a mighty chariot, gleaming silver
Carrying the last flower of the Silver Tree.

But as the Firstborn diminished and were forgotten
So, have the Ages turned glory to mists of myth and memory.
Your chariot is no more, Kyeleperyon’s last flower is naught but legend.
And now we take care to shine this barren rock, even as long ago
We carefully polished the mithril-bright chariot you rode.

Now we must deliberately shirk – lest the Apanónar discover us.
For they trod in your realm, on this rock, and now, too, Isil is Marred.

All words are Quenya unless otherwise indicated.

Tilion - Maia of the Moon

Kyeleperyon - (Primitive Quendian) Telperion, the Silver Tree (I felt Lena would be more comfortable with this older form)

Apanónar - Afterborn, Quenya name for mankind

Isil - The Sheen, name of the Moon

B2MeM Prompt and Category: And the music and the echo of the music went out into the Void, and it was not void. Never since have the Ainur made any music like to this music, though it has been said that a greater still shall be made before Ilúvatar by the choirs of the Ainur and the Children of Ilúvatar after the end of days. (The Silmarillion, “Ainulindale”)
Format: Double dribble inverted.
Genre: Poetry
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mention of death
Characters: Aegnor, Findis, Gundor
Pairings:
Creator’s Notes (optional): Okay…this only vaguely relates to the prompts. Mentions of Ulmo, and the “graves” line brought thoughts of death and Rebirth. Honestly, the randomized quote from SWG inspired it more. Hope that’s okay.
Summary: Aegnor recounts his former life’s last moments to his concerned aunt.

Over the mountains
And over the waves,
Under the fountains
And under the graves;
Under floods that are deepest,
Which Neptune obey,
Over rocks that are steepest,
Love will find out the way.

'Someone was looking at me, a disturbing sensation if you’re dead.' -Laura Whitcombe, 'A Certain Slant of Light'

Findis was looking at me, disturbed. Was I dead?
I had been dead. I remember the rushing flame –
Stronger than any of Ulmo’s waves came terror.
I remember my fear. I, Fell Fire!
I fell to the fire. Nerwen!
My twin, my dearest one –
But no longer, for
Here I lie.
Aicanáro Arafinwion –
Reborn.

A
New life
Awaits me here.
“Where are my scars?”
Findis stirs. “What scars, Nephew?”
“I was burned. The fire – Gundor –“
“Who is this Gundor, Aicanáro? You live.”
“Gundor was my friend.” I weep hot tears.
“Tell me of him, Nephew. Tell me of your friend.”
“Gundor was an Atan. He…buried me.” Findis embraces me.

B2MeM Prompt, Card and Number: B14, Adjectival Alphabet
Format: Poem (Double dribble inverted)
Genre: Poetry
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Deathfic
Characters: Gorlim the Unhappy, Eilinel the White, Sauron, Barahir
Pairings: Gorlim/Eilinel
Creator’s Notes (optional): I literally only had one prompt this time.
Summary: Gorlim wasn't very clever, was he? You shouldn't listen to Sauron's temptations, Gorlim....

Gorlim had land to farm, a pretty house, a wife;

Eilinel the White, she was beloved more than life.

But Angrim’s son swore himself to valiant Barahir,

Avenging ravaged land, Gorlim rode to war.

After Sudden Flame was done, home

Twelve left to ride. Eilinel,

Gorlim through window spied.

Trapped and caught,

Sauron’s band

Gorlim

Sought

And took

Unhappy Gorlim! Wretched

Man, the broken prisoner.

Before Sauron’s throne was cast

Gorlim, Barahir’s man. “Tell me!” spoke

Sauron, eyes alight. “Where lies Barahir’s band?

Tell me, Eilinel will I return to thee!”

Gorlim believed; and to Sauron the Dark told all;

“Eilinel is dead - my oath holds!” Sauron slew Gorlim mockingly.

B2MeM Challenge: B3 – canon couples, poetic forms
Format: Poem
Genre: Deathfic
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Canon character death
Characters: Finwe, Melkor
Pairings: Finwe/Indis
Creators' Notes (optional): I’ve written a few villanelles, but I was a bit rusty.
Summary: Finwe makes his last stand. Were his final thoughts of Miriel, Indis, or the children they bore him?

I stand alone, before the weather-beaten door
Sword raised in defiance, as the Enemy arrives.
What use are swords here? He is a Power, and more.

Yet here I stand. Fly, my children! What is more
Important to me, who count myself unkinged? Lives
And deaths – many will fall someday defending the door.

Back in Tirion, you wait for me. Indis! My heart soars
With love for thee and thine – ours, for they thrive.
What use the swords? The Valar are Powers, and more.

Yet Melkor approaches. Morgoth! Black Enemy, the score
Shall never be settled while my sons’ sons, beloved, strive
Though they be one day alone, before many a bloodied door.

Indis, beloved, I wish I had loved thee and thy sons more,
In living, as in dying, I should have fought for thee. I arrive
In Mandos, passing through the doom-laden galvorn door.
What use were swords? My hand failed; here I stand evermore.

B2MeM Prompt, Card and Number: G50, Adjectival Alphabet, I29, Echoes in the Water, Landscape, Poetic Forms, Snippets of Verse, Third Age Locations
Format: Poem (ghazal)
Genre: remix?
Rating: PG
Warnings:
Characters: Quickbeam (Bregalad)
Pairings:
Creator’s Notes (optional): A remixed? form of Quickbeam's original song for the rowans. (Not sure if I'm using the term right).
Summary: Quickbeam heads out in haste, as is his wont, at some point after the War of the Ring to quixotically search for the lost, but will his hope be fulfilled?

Kaylee Arafinwiel's Book of Verses by Kaylee Arafinwiel