|About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search|
Injustice is relatively easy to bear; it is justice that hurts.
Oh, how he hated this. The sling limited his movements, leaving him wondering if he ever could pull the bowstring taut after his arm would heal. How did it come to this: a wounded army scattered and humiliated as the unexpectedly trustworthy Naugrim held their rearguard. The sour defeat; the not knowing and fleeing, even though all knew there had been no other option.
Celegorm shifted uneasily and watched how his younger brothers huddled around the campfire bandaged and sore. None had spoken much once the sun sank, tired as they all were, but not as restless as he was.
“Thusly we wander as leaves before the wind,” Maglor said once they released the men from duty, eager as they were to see what was left of their homes. Now here they sat, the seven mighty sons of Fëanor, once glorious scions of a mighty house passing through the green woods of the Laiquendi who refused to be lead. Something needed to be done. Maedhros’ eyes glared at him once he rose to his feet, knowing that a warning should follow suit. None came.
“Will you even refuse to lead us, brother?” Celegorm whispered and knew his time had come.
Maglor’s line comes from The Silmarillion, Chapter 20 Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad where professor Tolkien writes: The realm of Fingon was no more; and the sons of Fëanor wandered as leaves before the wind.
The realm of Fingon was no more; and the sons of Fëanor wandered as leaves before the wind. Their arms were scattered, and their league broken; and they took to a wild and woodland life beneath the feet of Ered Lindon, mingling with the Green-elves of Ossiriand, bereft of their power and glory of old.
This double drabble is written for Seven in '07 project for the Silmarillion Writers Guild. Fabulous beta for this piece: Trekqueen
|<< Back||Next >>|
|Home Search Chapter List|