Drabbles: The Silmarillion, part 2 by Zdenka  

in the black wind the stars shall die

Thuringwethil is unsure if she wants Melkor’s victory. (Ilmarë/Thuringwethil)

Written for femslash drabbletag, for the prompt: Silmarillion, any/any, victory. Title from the Barrow-wight's incantation in The Fellowship of the Ring: Fog on the Barrow-downs.

Thuringwethil doesn’t know when it happened, but she no longer believes in Melkor’s great victory. Even the distant stars’ light hurts her to look at, sharp pinpricks of pain in her eyes. What would Melkor do against Varda in her full glory?

If the Sun and Moon were quenched for ever, Thuringwethil would rejoice in that! But to think of the stars snuffed out one by one—and Varda’s faithful messenger defying Melkor’s triumph, her shining spear raised against his sable banners—

She would be snuffed out too, and that is unbearable. Ilmarë is hers to destroy, or no one’s.