"Tengwar" ficlets by chrissystriped

Calma - Lamp

Nerdanel admires her father's work.

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Nerdanel rested her chin on the table and stared into the blue, sparkling crystal of the lamp. It was held by a mesh of copper twine bound in the shape of a mountain range.

“It’s beautiful, atya”, she said. “You are so good at this. Can I have it next to my bed tonight?”

Mahtan laughed and stroked her hair with his large, warm hand. “But only for tonight. I have to bring it to Aule tomorrow.”

“I know.” Nerdanel pouted. “You always give the beautiful things away.” “That’s part of being a crafts-person”, her father said. “You have to be able to let go of the things you make. And it is the best feeling to see the joy in the face of the recipient.”

Nerdanel nodded slowly. “Like when I make paintings for you and emya?”

Her father kissed her. “Just like that.”

Ungwe - Spider's Web

Thranduil finds a magical moment.

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It was a crisp, foggy morning, the leaves on the trees were already turning yellow. Thranduil breathed the wet air deeply. It smelled of rotting leaves and mushrooms. He let his fingers slide over the bark of an oak hehad seen grow from acorn to the huge tree it was now. A lightning bolt had gone through her a few years ago, the dark scar was still visible but she had survived.

“Good dreams, my dear”, he said softly.

She whispered a quiet answer, already drowsy from the cold and short days.

A ray of sunlight broke through the fog and shone on a spider’s web in the oak’s boughs. The dewdrops caught in it sparkled like a thousand diamonds and Thranduil held his breath, letting the enchantment of the moment fill him. His forest was so wonderful!

He wasn’t very fond of the spider’s larger kin, but he knew the little ones fulfilled a purpose, and it had made this thing of beauty. The oak didn’t seem to mind its presence, either.

He felt one of his guards step closer and turned around. He could rarely steal more than a few moments for himself, before he was needed again, but today he would work with the glowing image of the sparkling spider web in the back of his mind and it would give him joy.

Alda - Tree

Melkor looks at the dead Trees. (AU)

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Melkor walked slowly up the back of the hill. No road led up from this side and the incline was steep. He’d come from here before.

There was a hard weight in his chest, tears pressing aginst the backs of his eyes. He'd been so terribly wrong. The black skeletons of the Trees loomed above him when he took the last step. He was alone, he needed to be, the first time he was coming here of his own volition after his pardon. He needed time to mourn his deeds.

They had been so beautiful and he had destroyed them because he’d been full of hatred for his siblings and the Eldar and their happiness. He hadn’t wanted them to have this beauty. He’d taken the last remnant of them for himself alone — or so he’d thought. The sun shone down on him and warmed his skin. He’d been so angry at their Father for working against him.

Melkor sat down between the Trees. His hatred and anger was long gone and only remorse remained. He could never make this undone.

“I’m sorry”, he said.

He would do so many things differently, if he could have, but time didn’t work that way. He sighed. He had to live with his mistakes like anyone else and the Trees would forever remind him of them.

---

Chapter End Notes

This is part of an AU, where Melkor eventually repents and is pardoned.

Númen - West

Círdan looks at the sea and wonders how to cross it.

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Círdan stood at the shore, his heart filled with awe. When they’d been told they were walking towards water, he’d expected something like Cuiviénen, just bigger. He could not have imagined this endless expanse of water with no land in sight.

(Although there supposedly was one far to the west. Some of their more far-sighted people said they could see it on clear days.)

Today the sky was cloudy, the water grey and roiling, some of the waves reached his knees, even though he stood far up the shore. How were they ever supposed to cross this? Orome had promissed them an island, but they’d been too late — searching for Elwe. He did not know, if there would be another chance.

“Do you like it?”, a voice said from behind him and Círdan turned around quickly. This was one of the Gods, he knew immediately, although the being had taken the form of an elf.

“It is awe inspiring”, he said slowly. “It looks dangerous.” And yet he'd felt a strange yearning for it the moment he first looked at it.

The being smiled and showed too sharp teeth. “It is, if you don’t know its ways. I’m Osse, I was sent to teach you while you wait. The Valar have not forgotten you.”

Círdan bowed his head. “Thank you. I’m ready to learn what you are willing to teach.”

Unque - hollow

Idril descends into her tunnel.

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Idril walked down the steps that had been hewn into the rock, lamp held high. It was cold and damp under the earth, little rivulets ran down the stone on each side of her. She didn’t like to be underground, it made her heart race and her hands sweat, but she needed to see how far they’d come.

She had a bad feeling, nightmares plagued her and Tuor was restless also. Something was coming.

The tunnel narrowed, rock turning to earth the further she walked on. Wooden planks were stabilizing the walls and ceiling.

She wished, she could have asked Maeglin for help. He and his people were miners and the best at building tunnels. But she didn’t trust him. Something was wrong with him, apart from his unfortunate infatuation with her.

“How is it going?” she asked when she reached the end of the tunnel. There was always an engineer with the workers, making sure it was safe and keeping track of direction. Teluril spread out her map.

“We’ve made it to about halfway across the plain”, she said, pointing at a dot dated to yesterday.

Idril bit her thumbnail. She’d wanted the tunnel to reach the Echoriath, but that had been when she thought there was time. Her feeling told her they needed to be finished soon.

“It will have to be enough. Prepare to delve towards the surface again and concentrate on making the tunnel wider.”

If they had to flee, she wanted to make sure that as many people as possible could walk through this tunnel.

“As you wish, Lady.” Teluril looked at her with worried eyes. “What is going to happen?”

“I don’t know.” Idril sighed. She wished Ulmo would send her a dream as he had to her father so long ago. But he had sent them Tuor and her father had refused to listen. She would do what she could to reduce the impact of that mistake. “Whatever happens, we will be ready”, she said firmly.

---

Chapter End Notes

OC's name is from Chestnut's awesome name list

Aha - Rage

Ecthelion fights the balrog.

(cw: graphic violence, character death)

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Ecthelion was bleeding and burned. His arms were tired from the heavy attacks of his enemy.

“You’re dead, elf”, the balrog growled at him with triumph in his fiery eyes.

Ecthelion gritted his teeth against the pain in his body. He’d tried everything, the monster was too good a fighter and knew better than to let his smaller enemy come too close.

Ecthelion felt despair raise its head and stamped it down. No, he could not give up. He fanned the burning rage that had kept him standing until now. His city was burning, his friends were dead. He had nothing to lose. He would not let his enemy get away.

He bowed his head and charged — Glorfindel had laughed at his helmet design. He felt the spike puncture the balrog’s stomach. It stumbled back and Ecthelion pushed with a scream. Fire was all around him, he was burning.

He pushed until they both fell into his fountain. Steam and boiling water enveloped them. Ecthelion felt the balrog struggle and wrapped his hands around its neck, holding its head under water. He would not let it get up again. He’d take it with him.

The balrog's muscles became limp. Ecthelion's vision flickered and went dark.

Esse - Name

Two Mablungs meet.

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“So you are the other one?”

Mablung opened his eyes and blinked at the elf who’d stepped between him and the sun he’d been enjoying on a bench in Thranduil’s garden.

“I’m sorry?”

He didn’t know him and he wasn’t sure if the way he looked at him was judging or just interested.

“The other Mablung. I’m Mablung.”

“Oh!” Mablung rose and bowed to the Sinda. “A pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

He’d sometimes wondered about the elf who shared his name, but he’d vanished.

“Likewise.” Mablung of Doriath smiled wryly. “Thranduil speaks very highly of you and that’s saying something.”

“Because I’m a Noldo, yes?” Mablung chuckled. “He's gotten used to me. How long have you been here?”

“I was with Thingol and Melian in Lórien, but when I heard Thranduil had arrived, I came here.”

“Thranduil told me, you were close once. Want to swap stories?”

Thranduil had always become a little sad, when he spoke of him, because he hadn’t known what had happened to him, so Mablung hadn’t asked too much.

“I’d like to get to know the person who’s sharing my name — and is a friend of my friend on top of that.”

“That sounds good. Let me invite you to a drink.”

They left the garden together.

---

Chapter End Notes

My main OC Mablung was given that name before I even knew of Mablung of Doriath and I've sometimes thought about letting them meet. (Turns out it is hard to write two characters of the same name talking to each other.)

Parma - Book

Elrond receives a gift from Pengolodh

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“I wanted to give you this, before I sail”, Pengolodh said.

Elornd accepted the book with a questioning smile. It was bound in golden-brown leather and stampted with a border of tiny leaves and stars.

“I collected stories fo your parents from people who knew them.”

Elrond felt tears rise up in his eyes and swallowed hard. “Thank you”, he croaked. “That means so much to me.”

Did he realise that Elrond barely remembered his parents? Did he understand how much he wished to know them?

The chronicler smiled and squeeze his hand. “Writing down bit historical moments is important”, Pengolodh said. “But so are the small intimate things, like this, for the people who stay behind.”

There was something in his eyes that made Elrond wonder, who he had lost and if there was something left of them.

That day he resolved to keep a diary, for whoever remained behind, when the time to go came for him.

Quesse - Feather

Gothmog longs for his lover.

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Gothmog gently held the long feather between two fingers. It was speckled white and brown, a falcon’s feather but larger than usual.

I miss you so much, you stupid bird, he thought.

Why couldn’t Eonwe see that he was following the wrong brother? They’d had a huge fight, each wanting to convince the other of their desicion.

But his anger had subsided and if he was honest, Eonwe wouldn’t be the person he’d thought he was, if he’d turned out less loyal. He just wished, he’d chosen him — them.

Gothmog traced his lips with the tip of the feather and wished it were Eonwe’s touch. Might her risk a trip close to Almaren in the hopes of finding him? He shook his head. Too risky on all fronts.

He was not that desperate.

Yet.

Yanta - Bridge

A dwarvish builder receives an odd request from the Elvenking.

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Hár stared at the elf and tried to process what he’d just heard.

“You want me to build a mechanism into the bride to make it easy to destroy?”, he asked slowly. Maybe he’d just misunderstood — even an elf couldn’t be as crazy as that.

“Yes”, King Thranduil said. “Build me a bridge that can be broken down quickly in case of an emergency. Is that possible?”

“Yes. But why?”

The Elvenking’s face turned even more serious than before. “Have you ever heard the story of Túrin Turambar?”

“I have… oh.”

There had been a dragon and a bridge involved in the destruction of an elven-realm, hadn’t there? He didn’t think a dragon attack very likely here, but the king was paying well.

Hár shrugged. “It will be done as you wish.”

Formen - North

Melkor walks among the graves of his people. (AU)

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Melkor walked among the orc graves close to what used to be Utumno so long ago. A chill wind was blowing so far north, even in what accounted for summer here.

The graves were hewn into the stone and closed with boulders, and not all of them were old. They still came here to bury their dead.

Around the graves where figures carved into the stone. They showed the deeds of the dead, showed them fighting valiantly and always, the last picture of the cycle, they kneeld before what he’d learned to recognise as himself - a mountain with three tips, rays surrounding them. They were showing him their deeds so that he might not destroy their souls.

He had made them and he had not been kind to them. They knew what power he held over them.

Melkor sobbed and let the tears run freely. “There is more for you”, he whispered. “And I will make sure you receive it. You deserve a better afterlife than this.”

He missed home, but he had a task and he would look all over the world for the lost souls of the children that were his too. It was time he took responsibility.

---

Chapter End Notes

Belongs to the same AU as the "alda"-ficlet.

Silme - Starlight

Celebrían sews a banner.

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Celebrían pulled the silver thread through the heavy nightblue fabric with practised ease. She hummed softly while she worked, weaving a song of protection into the embroidered stars.

Soon Elrond would carry Gil-galad’s banner into battle and the thought that either or both of them might not come home from the war chilled her to the bone. She loved them both in very different ways, losing either of them would break her heart.

Her Song faltered. She put the needle down and closed her eyes. No, they would come back. They would win. They had to! They could not leave her behind! Celebrían wished she could go with them, but she was no warrior, she was no healer.

She took a deep breath and sang of hope in the darkness. Of the sun on leaves and starlight on water. Of safety and peace and love. For both her stars.

Silme Nuquerna - Starlight Reversed

Morgoth breaks free from the Void.

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The world was old and Manwe was tired. He still loved Ea, but age weighed heavy on him. He still watched the doings of the Children, when he was awake, but sometimes he slept through centuries without knowing.

He woke when Varda gave a cry: “The stars!”

Manwe looked up and saw the stars being swallowed, sucked in by a darkness deeper than night. Living and moving, breathing malice.

“It is time”, Námo said. “Time for the Last War.”

Manwe tried to shake himself more awake. He needed all his wits about him. He needed to be ready.

He shuddered. He would never be ready to face what his brother had become during the millennia of his imprisonment in the Void.

Anna - Gift

Haleth receives a gift.

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Haleth walked towards the elf who had waited patiently on the bench before her house but now was standing up. She wondered how long he’d been sitting there. She’d left to hunt at dawn and now it was late afternoon.

“Lady Haleth”, he said bowing. “My Lord Caranthir sends me with a gift for you.”

Haleth leaned her bow against the wall and hung her catch — two pheasants — on a hook beside it to accept the leather satchel.

Copper glinted at her when she opened the drawstring. She took the armring out and admired the fine engravings, mixing elvish motives with those of her people. She smiled. That ridiculous elf had paid attention.

“Tell your lord I am pleased with his gift”, she told the elf who’d clearly been told to wait for her reaction.

She might wear it when Caranthir invited her to a feast the next time. And tease him about not having the guts to give it to her himself. She enjoyed the look on his face when he felt embarrassed.

Lambe - Tongue

Finrod discovers Galadriel's newest secret.

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“You have been strangely quiet at dinner, sister dear”, Finrod said and eyed her suspiciously. “Is something the matter?”

Galadriel blushed and shook her head. Her tongue hurt. Her older brother narrowed his eyes.

“Open your mouth”, he commanded.

“Don’t tell father”, she lisped before she stuck her tongue out. She did not want to deal with Finarfin's opinion about this right now, when she was less then able to explain.

Finrod grinned when he saw the pearl on her tongue, held in place by a golden bar. “You’ve got some balls, little sister. I won’t tell father, but don’t you think he’ll find out eventually?”

Galadriel shrugged and Finrod’s grin widened.

“Looks like you won’t talk back at me for a few days, eh?”, he teased and laughed when she punched him.

Hyarmen - South

A traveller watches penguins.

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He watched the white and black birds with a smile while he sketched them. They looked so funny, hopping and stumbling around on land. But in water, hunting for fish, they became quick and sleek. It even looked like they had fun swimming. It was clear to him that the sea was their natural element.

He closed his notebook that was filling fast with the new animals and plants ehe was seeing on this expedition to the far south.

He did not regret the fight he’d had with his father who’d wanted him to stay home and learn his trade. No, he was not someone who stayed in one place forever. His heart was a wanderer. It was not the sea that called him, like many others on this ship. For him it was the adventure, seeing something new every day. Never standing still.

Ampa - Hook

Maedhros prepares for a fight.

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Maedhros stood still with difficulty while his servants dressed him in his armour. He was quivering with impatience, waiting to storm off, towards the enemy.

He was finally strong enough again to fight and he ached to make the orcs pay for his suffering — if he couldn’t get Morgoth himself.

Finally his armour was on, his sword at his hip and his prosthesis changed. He screwed a hook — sharpened to a wicked tip — into the cap over his stump.

“Lets make them bleed”, he told his lieutenant with a wild grin.

He would make the orcs fear him -- the elf who’d survived the torment of Angband and had gotten away.

Óre - Heart

Annatar is troubled.

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“Don’t tell me you are growing a heart”, Annatar spat at his own image in the mirror. “Pathetic!”

Everything had been going so well. The orcs were multiplying in the south, he’d earned himself the trust of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain and was well on his way to find friends among the notoriously difficult dwarves. The only problem were his own stupid feelings! He was starting to like Celebrimbor a little too much.

The Noldo was just so good. It should have been annoying. Instead he found it adorable. Celebrimbor was trying so hard to make up for the sins of his family, leave behind the mistrust and violence.

“And would it be such a bad thing to join him in this effort?”, his mirror image said.

“Oh, shut up, you’d go crazy, if you had to stay her forever!”, he growled. He could not stay here. He was not like them!

No, he had to get rid of the elf as soon as possible. Even if it was going to break his heart.

Umbar - Fate

Námo remains silent.

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Námo sat silently and watched. Manwe was speaking to Melkor, allowing him to go among the people of Aman.

There was no malice in his prisoner’s bearing, he hid his true feelings well. But Namo knew the truth, he saw the road before them clearly, and said nothing.

What would happen, had to happen. It was in the Music. It was played. It could not be changed now.

Inside, Námo wept for the evil that would come of this decision. He wept for the pain it would cause Manwe. But it had to be.

The choice was Melkor’s and he’d made it long ago.

Anga - Iron

Rog resolves to survive.

(cw: slavery)

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Rog hammered the glowing piece of metal furiously. He hated it and he hated his captors for making him hate it.

He’d found such joy in making things from copper and bronze and iron — as one of the few in his community. It had been important work, it had been art! They’d taken it from him and turned it into a vile thing. They forced him to make weapons to kill his kin.

He growled when a whip licked his back, but not too loudly. He did not want to end up in the fighting pits and be changed into one of Them.

He hardened his heart.

He would live.

He would escape.

He would make them pay.