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Cross "The Silmarillion" with a second text or fandom in this month's crossover challenge.
A Sense of History: Thálatta! Thálatta!
While he never climbs the stairs of this Elf-tower, in Lothlórien Frodo Baggins descends a flight of steps to look into Galadriel’s Mirror, wherein he first sees the sea. This post examines the view.
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“Me?” Glingaereth said. “Careful of what?”
“Of that prince.”
“What, Fingon? If you are worried about the Noldor’s feuds, he is the one…
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Fingon and Hurin: I. A Common Root
[Writing] The road to the Estolad by clotho123
A kind of follow up to "The Debate of Finrod and Andreth". Finrod left a few things out of his talk with Andreth, which led me to wonder what a member of a different Noldorin House might have to say.
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A perfect drabble for each of the Tengwar, for the Tengwar challenge.
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Crossroads of the Fallen King
Create a fanwork that crosses with a second text or fandom. Read more ...
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Thálatta! Thálatta! by Simon J. Cook
[]While he never climbs the stairs of this Elf-tower, in Lothlórien Frodo Baggins descends a flight of steps to look into Galadriel’s Mirror, wherein he first sees the sea. This post examines the view.
[]
With Gildor Inglorion we finally climb the stairs of Elostirion and look on the view, and what we see appears to reveal a hidden thread in the story of Frodo Baggins. This post reads two annotated translations of two Elvish songs to step through a crossroads in the narrative to arrive at the tower on the margin of the story, wherein is a stone that is a window onto Valinor.
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[]Bilbo recounts, in verse, the attempt of Gandalf, Beorn, and him to cross the Forest River after the Battle of Five Armies. Written for the Hungarian Tolkien Society's 2024 Mailing Competition.
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Scribbles & Drabbles 2024
A chill Tolkien event, where artists make art, and authors write little stories in response. Begins in June and ends in November.
Fire and Ice by Naltariel
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Chapter 1
Fire and Ice
If I could, I would wrap my arms around my body to warm myself a bit. It is so cold in here. It never stops being cold. I do not know why. I used to think that in this dull place, with my bodiless state, I would not feel anything but a comforting numbness. Of course, this cold is different from the cold of the Grinding Ice. It is the kind of cold that quenches your fire and suck your spirit into nothingness. People said that Helcaraxe was frozen hell, but having endured this coldness for Eru knows how long, I disagree. *This* is hell.
How did I think that I could ever stay here until the end of Arda?
I "shiver" again. Perhaps my vow is not a good idea after all. Perhaps it would have been better had I accepted Mandos' offer to be re-embodied. But who can tell if the pain I would feel in living world will be better than the coldness of this place?
Elbereth, how I miss her! Who says that this cold lonely Hall can bring healing to a wounded spirit? It certainly fails to heal mine.
If I had a body, I would feel a tear flowing from the corner of my eye.
* * *
As is my habit since I entered this Hall, I brood alone, avoiding other spirits that roam around. My brothers who were once here have already left this place; it seems a million years ago since the last time I talked to someone. Maybe it has been. There is no way anyone can keep track of time here.
There is a sad song echoing throughout the Hall. Nienna. It seems that her voice is the only thing that can make this hell bearable. She is singing about love and life and everything in between. As always, when I hear her music I weep.
* * *
Ea is a strange place. Even in this grey nothingness you'll find that one by one your preconceptions of people, places, and everything, are thrown out of the proverbial window. I used to think that all spirits would have dimmed as time passed until the shadow of their old selves remain, like mine. But I am wrong, certainly. For a bright spirit has just brushed though me and I can feel the heat of its flame warm my freezing heart. The last time I saw such bright and pure spirit was when I played with my little sister, Galadriel.
Can it be her?
Worried that she might have died, I follow the spirit until it settles down. Then I too, settle down beside it, and I find that it is not my sister, to my utter relief.
It seems to be surprised at my presence. "I thought my mother and I were the only ones who were left here?" it says. "Who are you?"
"You and your mother? You mean... you are Feanor?" I ask in disbelief. The last time I heard about him, he was sulking in the corner of this Hall, refusing to talk to anyone. I believe that he could somehow retain his fire even all this time, but not the kind of fire that burns in his spirit now; a fire that warms instead of scorches, and the fire that shines with such purity. No. Not after all the atrocities he had committed.
Unless he has been pardoned, of course. But that can't be, can it?
"Aye, I am Feanor son of Finwe? And who are you?" he asks.
"I am Aegnor, son of Finarfin."
"Son of Finarfin? Haven't all your brothers left? Why are you still here? Have you done something unforgivable?"
"Not everyone who stays does so unwillingly," I answer him wryly.
"Oh?" he says. I do not reply.
After some time, he asks me again. "Why do you choose to stay, if I may ask?"
"That is personal," I say curtly.
After that there is a long silence that seems to last a million years. Then he speaks, "I too, do not stay here unwillingly."
"Indeed," I say caustically.
"Yes," he says. "Although it is hard to believe, Mandos finally deemed that I had been purified enough and could be re-embodied if I wished."
"Why did you decide to stay then?" I ask curiously.
"Because I love her."
"Your mother?"
"Nay, my wife, Nerdanel."
"Your wife? Were you not estranged from each other even when your sons were young?"
"Yes, and I cannot blame her for that. I burned her to ashes and ignored her. I took her sons away and led them to destruction. Now someone is rekindling her fire; can I possibly deny her that ?"
"What do you mean?"
"She is in love again, and that person too, apparently, loves her in return. But they are not wedded yet, for an obvious reason."
He pauses for a few moments before continuing. "Mandos told me that Nerdanel had asked his permission to wed again. He said that unless I agreed to stay here until the end of Arda, she could not remarry."
"And you agreed?" I ask in disbelief.
"Yes, I did."
"I never thought you were the kind of person who would made such sacrifice," I say.
He chuckles. "I never thought so either, until Mandos showed me a glimpse of her and the one who loves her. She smiled oh so brightly that her beauty could put my Jewels to shame. Tell me, how can I kill the fire in her for the second time by my return?"
"You never seemed a one who cared for others' feelings," I say unkindly.
"I didn't. But I do care for preserving beauty when I see it. That is my main striving in life. And in death," he answers.
"So, you have decided to stay here just to preserve the beauty of your wife, whom you can't even see now?" I say incredulously.
"Is that so strange to you, son of Finarfin?"
"Of course! What use it is to you if your wife becomes beautiful again when you can't see her beauty yourself? I don't object your decision, not at all. But I hardly believe your motive for such an drastic decision.
I can feel his spirit dim a little, a sign that he is sad, when he says, "Don't you understand, Aegnor? All the beauty in my life has gone; even the best work of my hands is lost to the sky, fire, and water. Arda has waned, and I do not desire to see such beauty as remains within it marred, nor tarnish it further by my re-embodiment, which will destroy my wife's beautiful fire. Now, what can I do to preserve and cherish all the remaining beauty except this simple act? At least here my memory of the world has not waned and I can still imagine my wife smiling or myself forging the Jewels under the light of the Trees, instead of living in a weary world where every color dulls, every song becomes muffled, and every joy fades."
I do not answer him, but I can feel his pain. All he has now is his memory.
It makes me wonder if my longing for her would have been easier to bear had I the memory of being together with her during what little time she had. Or would I suffer more because I wouldn't able to stand not having her in my arms again?
I "shiver" again, although the spirit of fire is right beside me.
His spirit is still bright as before. But now he is not paying attention to me; he is lost in his memories, and I can feel him smiling. Then I know. It is not the Hall itself that is cold, but rather my own loneliness and never-ending regret, which has been sucking away every memory that could have warmed my freezing soul.
* * *
Chapter End Notes
This fic is an answer to Finch’s birthday challenge: a fic with: 1.) strict interpretation of L & C, 2.) moral dilemma, 3.) sacrifice. Thanks to Ithilwen for beta reading.
Originally published on FF.net on 2003.
