A memory of a story from long ago by AdmirableMonster
Fanwork Notes
Prompt-givers are thanked in the corresponding chapters. Please tread carefully if you are still doing Scavenger Hunt and want to avoid potential solutions!
Every chapter is a perfect drabble.
- Fanwork Information
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Summary:
Eventually they arrived, and Echeleb and Dernodhos ushered Anniavas in. Dernodhos found an old thin pallet somewhere and unrolled it on the floor, made him lie down with Limral—who had immediately perked up and started sniffing the air—and went and found them a heavy piece of cloth to use as a blanket. The frayed and ragged edges and complex, cut-off pattern made it look as if it had once been part of a larger tapestry. It was beautifully woven, but singed dark in places, where fire must have touched it.
“What’s this?” Anniavas asked, sleepy and curious—at least it was something to focus on other than his current fears.
Dernodhos paused, running her fingers along it, with an expression on her face he hadn’t seen before. “A memory,” she said.“Of a story from long ago.” She ruffled his hair gently. “I’ll tell you about it another time.”-- The Mirror Crack'd, Chapter Seven, Without the Hands of a Healer
A series of perfect drabbles about Dernodhos's blanket.
Major Characters: Original Female Character(s)
Major Relationships: Original Character & Original Character, Lórien/Vairë
Genre: Family, Fixed-Length Ficlet, Folktales/Myths/Legends
Challenges: Scavenger Hunt
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Mature Themes, Sexual Content (Mild)
This fanwork belongs to the series
Chapters: 7 Word Count: 713 Posted on Updated on This fanwork is complete.
Oft in lies, truth is hidden
With thanks to Flora-lass for the prompt ("Oft in lies, truth is hidden.")
Read Oft in lies, truth is hidden
They say that Vairë and Irmo were lovers, once. When Vairë came to Irmo and said she was going to bear his child, he told her that she must hide it, lest they sadden their spouses and bring the wrath of Manwë upon them. Vairë was sorrowful, but she saw the wisdom in this, and when the girl was born, she wrapped her in a blanket that she had woven herself. Then she left the child in the gardens of Lórien to be cared for. Around the edge of the blanket twined the words, Oft in lies truth is hidden.
A journey
With thanks to Himring for the prompt: "Your prompt is: someone goes on a long journey or, possibly, a journey that seems long to them, even if others may not consider it so. (Completely metaphorical journeys also count.)"
Read A journey
The girl grew up and left behind her blanket. Beautiful though it was, there were many beautiful things in the gardens of the gods, and it was easily forgotten. One day, a young Elf grew cold sitting long hours beside the empty body of his mother, and a passing Maia wrapped the blanket about his shoulders. He fell asleep beneath it, small head pillowed on a little hand, and so his father found him. The blanket journeyed with him to his home, and there it was forgotten again, for there were many pretty things in a prince’s house, as well.
Light on the Water
With thanks to Independence1776 for the prompt:
href="https://unsplash.com/photos/light-reflected-on-water-at-daytime-2mKYEVGA4jE">https://unsplash.com/photos/light-reflected-on-water-at-daytime-2mKYEVGA4jE</a>
(ID: light reflecting in water, creating chaotic patterns)
Read Light on the Water
Though the boy had little love for most of his half-siblings, he cared for his eldest sister, and he offered her the blanket on a cold day. It was barely his, in any case. The girl kept it for a time and then gave it to her brother, who took it with him when he was married and traded it for a kiss from his wife. She gifted it to one of her servants, for the Elves gave gifts freely in that far-off land. The servant traded it, and it came eventually to grace the captain’s cabin of a Swan-ship.
Thank you, and sorry
With thanks to Anérea for the eponymous prompt
Read Thank you, and sorry
When we took the ships, my little one, the blanket came with us. We did wrong in the taking of it, but we were grateful for its warmth on the cold waves. When we set foot on Beleriand, I dreamed of you, and I took the blanket for your comfort when you came to me. I wore it as a cloak when I rode at the prince’s side, and when we were captured, I fought those who would take it from me. Though I had no right to it, it kept me warm in this prison and saved my life.
What ship would bear me ever back?
With thanks to Starspray for the prompt: "But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me, / What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?"
Read What ship would bear me ever back?
You must remember Valinor, my child, for it was my home once. Perhaps one day you will return. Though little of the blanket is left, for I have bartered it away, piece by piece, it is still your heritage, little one. I will never return there, for I have seen my fate. Even had I not, I would still remain, for your father cannot pass across that sea. His people are not free, but they are a proud people, and they are also yours. Remember that. They have become their own gods. Carry your ancestors with you as you grow.
Of Snares Eluded
With thanks to Elrond's Library for the prompt: "Of snares eluded, broken traps, / The prison opening, the chain that snaps."
Read Of Snares Eluded
The thrall flees. She has been clever, as clever as the fox whose stories her father told her. The story goes that no one escapes, but she knows that the stories of that dark fortress often lie. Even if they do not, perhaps she will be the first. She has the fragment of her mother’s blanket tucked beneath her clothes, securely at her chest. Perhaps it will make her feet as light as the fingers of the goddess-mother who wove it. Perhaps it will make her form as invisible as the sleepy god of dreams whose illicit child it cradled.
After Years
With thanks to janeways for the prompt: "After Years" by Ted Kooser
Today, from a distance, I saw you
walking away, and without a sound
the glittering face of a glacier
slid into the sea. An ancient oak
fell in the Cumberlands, holding only
a handful of leaves, and an old woman
scattering corn to her chickens looked up
for an instant. At the other side
of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times
the size of our own sun exploded
and vanished, leaving a small green spot
on the astronomers retina
as he stood on the great open dome
of my heart with no one to tell.
Read After Years
The first night Dernodhos sleeps at Himring, her dreams are huge and strange. She sees a star born, vast beyond measure and cupped in its mother’s hands, captured by her threads. She lives its conception in warm cries, in clandestine kisses and adulterous whispers. She wakes wet and shaking, her square of blanket beneath her pillow. A visitation from her mother’s god, or only the echoes of an old story? And maybe that’s less important than when Echeleb hears the fearful sounds she makes on waking, appears yawning at her side, and tells her, “Shove over, I’ll sleep beside you.”
