Silmarillion Writers' Guild Perfect Matches

Excerpt from "Forsaken Knowledge"

by Rhapsody the Bard

Nenya was the first ring I awoke with my touch and thoughts. For some reason, I hoped that it would preserve and conceal the others, being the strongest, by using the white adamant to its fullest potential. Once I placed it in the deerskin pouch, I set to awake Vilya, then Narya. Once more, I felt connected to my father and grandfather by using the lore of old to a higher purpose, a noble purpose for the good of all. I barely could hide them in time and before his vengeance bore down on me, I ensured that they would be placed in the right hands. I shall never feel any remorse for what I have done and I found healing amidst the blue and grey robes here.

When I beheld my creations once more, I saw my father enshrouded in mist, and bliss was in his eyes. Knowing that this inner peace had healed him, I had to find him, and this done in Arda unmarred. Once the veils parted and the spells thus cast allowed me to pass – just as in Arda Marred, only my kindred was allowed to sail the Straight Road - I looked upon the sun-bathed cliffs, finally finding my home here on the blessed shores of Avalon.

(Crossover with the works of Marion Zimmer Bradley.)

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Excerpt from "Honi Soit ..."

by Lyra

"Siþen þe sege and þe assaut watz sesed at Troye,/ Þe bor? brittened and brent to brondez and askez... 3 - what is this?" Daeron was looking over Maglor's shoulder. Judging by the amount of birch bark stacked on the table, his friend seemed to plan doing a lot of writing today. (And a few trees would probably not see winter.)

"An introduction," Maglor said in what Daeron thought of as his teacher's voice: even and patient and a bit patronizing. "They do that, you know. Begin stories with lengthy accounts of history."

"But… Troy?! What sort of story are you writing?"

"People seem to be somewhat fond of King Arthur stories, so I thought I'd go with that."

"And what's Troy got to do with him? I thought he was somehow related to that foster-child of yours, what's his face-"

"Elros. Yes. But that'd take us a bit too far back, don't you think? People don't remember that anymore. Although I suppose I could begin with Númenor. Should I start with Númenor? Siþen þe sees asweped þat sterres ylonde...4"

"That'd make for an even lengthier introduction, right?"

"It would indeed."

"Then Troy will do." He read on. "Felix Brutus! Him I remember. Sweet kid. Liked my music."

"I am glad", Maglor replied, a wry smile playing on his lips.

"Why all this bother, though?"

"In order to place the story within the big picture. That's what they do. And you said that I had to stick to their rules."

"Wish I hadn't."

The wry smile turned into a full-fledged grin. "Why, Daeron, you like it!"
Daeron's face coloured. "Nonsense. I just can't wait for my victory."

(Crossover with Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.)

Author's Notes:
(3) "After the siege and the assault had ceased at Troy,/ [when] the castle [was] destroyed and burned to embers and ashes..." – opening lines of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.
(4) "After the seas had swept away the island of the star…" This bit is mine, and any grammatical errors are my fault.

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by Lady Roisin

King Henry's new bride peered across the crowd. Ah, there he was! She had a suspicion that she would find him here. So he had been spared the Void and here he was in another pleasing form. She was not able to understand how this was Ilúvatar's will. It was said the powers had to remain in balance. It was the reason she had decided to come to this world again even though it had changed until the Maia of Lórien no longer recognized it. So different was this place from the peaceful gardens she called home. But now of all times she needed to return to this world once more.

She watched as the King's Minister approached her. She was able to see the disdain trying to cover the hints of fear in his eyes. Yes, he recognized her now even though her form was far different in this incarnation. Surely he must be ruing his choices now.

Thomas Cronwell bowed his head once he approached her, "your highness." She motioned for him to rise and watched as he walked back into the crowd.

"You did you not really believe you would get away with this would you?" She spoke the words through her mind and into his. Lord Cronwell looked over his shoulder and she knew he had heard her.

"He will tire of you soon" Mairon's voice spoke clearly in her mind. "Your head will be separated from your shoulders as well if you are not careful."

"Ah, but you are wrong," she spoke back into his mind. "You are afraid because he loves me above them all. You are clever, Mairon, more clever than all of us. But you cannot win with old tricks."

"Maybe so," Mairon whispered in her mind. His voice was gentle and even tender. "But we shall return to the history and lore once again. May you enjoy your second time as Queen."

Melian was unable to withhold a smile. Indeed they would make history once more. All that was left was to see how the story played out. She turned her head as Henry took her hand and kissed it. She was able to see the adoration in her King's eyes. "My Jane, my sweet Jane. At last you are mine."

(Crossover with The Tudors.)

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Excerpt from "Hastaina"

by Dawn Felagund

It is the Ainulindalë, wrought as decadent carvings hewn into the stone panels that line the vast room, but it is the Ainulindalë as I have never seen it: all of the Valar in horrible splendor working elbow at elbow together to shape the world, the good and the awful alike, Melkor with Varda, Melkor with Ulmo, Melkor with Manwë, shaping and corrupting, together, building and breaking, etching upon Time a story of aching poignancy with pain the constant counterpoint to joy--

But no! I believe it not! I hear my laughter, so small in the vast room, swallowed by dark and silence long unbroken. When I come to the centermost panel representing Eä in its first incarnation, with all of the Valar arrayed as wide-eyed children behind a clot of light that will be the universe and Eru even at their backs bellowing Pain into existence as the bitterness that mitigates the saccharine, then I am sick at my stomach and must turn away for, in all of our imaginings, this could not be true. Even Fëanáro saw himself not as an enemy of the Valar but as pursuing a cause different from their own. He allowed his sons to be blessed by Manwë; his Silmarils to be hallowed by Varda. Surely--

But that is why I have come. I have come for the song to strive against the pain sung into Ainulindalë, I have come for the secret to undo the Marring. For what is done can be undone, even if one must dance upon the spooling ribbon of Time to do so, as we believe that Fëanáro might have begun to do in the final years of his exile, before the murder of his father and the Darkening of the world drove him to madness.

(Crossover with the mythology of H.P. Lovecraft.)

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Excerpt from "The Crystal Sphere"

by Lyra

The 'really weird stuff' was a perfect sphere, large enough to sit on (which none of them did). Underneath its glass-like surface it was black – a deep, rich, absolute black. Absurdly, it didn't sport the smallest scratch. It sat on a make-shift pedestal of bunched-up canvas, looking ancient and impossible at once.

Will stared. It reminded him of both the Alethiometer and the Knife, although neither size, shape or material had the least thing in common with them. It was a gut feeling, but he suspected his gut was on to something.
He didn't voice his thoughts. Instead, he gave a nervous laugh. "What an odd thing. Looks like a crystal ball – do you have a witch to read it, too?"
Myers laughed while Dr. Tevinson gave him another reproachful look.
"We don't know what it is," she said. "We don't even know what it's made of. It's resisted all attempts to take samples – it's indestructible."
"It must be, if it's as old as the rest... Is it? Never mind, you said you couldn't take samples..."
Will walked around it. The feeling of familiarity increased; it was hard to speak normally. "I'm tempted to switch to the space aliens theory."
He noticed only now that his left hand had moved out of his pocket, reaching for the crystal surface. Embarrassed, he said, "May I?"
The others exchanged a look.
"I suppose it can't hurt," Dr. Tevinson said. "Go ahead."

Will tried to recall the peculiar state of mind that had been necessary to use the Knife. To his delight, he could slip into it easily enough – almost too easily, as though he had just waited for it, thirty long years.
Tentatively, he touched the sphere.
With brutal abruptness, the black flashed into an array of colours.

(Crossover with Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials.)

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Excerpt from "Trinity"

by pandemonium_213

He found himself back at Alamogordo, the tower with the intact Gadget looming in the far distance. In the middle of the sere dreamscape, between where he stood and the tower, two figures were seated at a table. He walked across the rocks and through the scrub toward them. As he approached, he could see that the two figures were men, both of whom stood as he drew closer.

They were lean and tall, standing at six and a half feet or more. Their archaic clothing was peculiar, an odd hybrid of ancient Greek and medieval garb. Both had lustrous black hair that cascaded down their backs. One man had what looked liked bands of light wrapped around his ankles and connected through a pulsating beam. Shackles of light? he wondered.

As he drew closer, he could discern the differences in their features: one had a firm chin and stern brows, the other possessed high cheekbones and more chiseled bone structure, but both were exceptionally attractive men, almost beautiful really. They appeared to be clean-shaven, but on closer examination, Oppenheimer saw that they were beardless with no hint of shadow on their cheeks in spite of their black hair. But their eyes startled him most of all and sent a shiver down his spine. The man with the heavier brows had eyes with an almost metallic sheen, reminiscent of platinum. The other man’s eyes were the color of clear gray gems. Most disconcerting was that their eyes seemed to emit light.

Who were these beings? Oddly, he thought of the nephilim, the tall beautiful fallen angels who married mortal women as written in the book of Genesis. He remembered that much of the Torah.

The man with the platinum eyes snorted. “Oh, for God’s sake, Robert. That’s just superstitious nonsense. You know that as well as I do.”

(Crossover with the real-world history.)

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Excerpt from "You do not wish to live my life"

by Silver Trails

It was an unearthly scene, and yet Maglor could not really say that he was surprised. He knew of this, Immortals, living forever and cutting off each other’s heads as they struggled for survival. How ironic that immortality had to be regained at every moment by killing their people. Maglor had not really believed that this twisted mimic of the kinslayings could exist when Eoghan told him about it centuries ago. Now he could see it was true. Maglor had met Eoghan in Ireland, while trying to find a way to cross the ocean and reach the land they called America. He had stayed with the Man for a few months, but never saw a fight, never tried to follow his friend when he was on duty. Eoghan had called himself a Watcher.

So this was what Eoghan used to watch, Maglor mused as the fight went on. The dark-haired man was fighting fiercely, while the red-haired youth was starting to tire. It was too much a reminder of his brothers, and Maglor turned around, pressing his forehead to the cold wall of the warehouse. He should have been more careful, but the sounds of sword fighting, so absurdly familiar, had been too much for him to resist.

It was over moments later, and the lightning-like power that illuminated the starless night broke the remaining windows of the abandoned warehouse. It was as if fire had fallen on Earth… almost like it happened when the Siege on Angband was broken. The dark-haired man screamed as his body was wracked by the power released by his kill. It was a primal sound that spoke of a pain too raw for words. Maglor stood there, mesmerized, and only when the whirlwind of lightning passed, did the man notice him.

(Crossover with Highlander.)

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