"And ever the nightingale doth sing" by singing-sorrowless  

Prologue

There’s a girl more beautiful than starlight on the western sea, but she doesn’t know it yet, not though the niphredil first blossomed on the night she was born. She is the daughter of a singer from the night-gardens of Lorien, the nightingale-woman, the enchantress.

There’s a boy who takes after his grandfather, but he doesn’t know it yet, not though they look so much alike it’s frightening, not though they share a name. He is descended from the first men to ever come to Beleriand, taught wisdom by a king of the Noldor so long ago.

There’s a girl more beautiful than starlight on the western sea, or so her mother and father tell her. She roams wildly through the forest, singing as she goes, climbing ancient beech trees and wading in clear streams. The girl looks at her reflection rippling in the water and she wonders what the sea is like. She has never left the woods of Doriath.

There’s a boy who takes after his grandfather, who all his relatives say was a fearless warrior. He grows up in a time of war, and soon his people are driven from their homeland. The boy stays behind with his father, hiding out in the wilderness with soldiers, planning strikes against their enemy. He learns early that he must become fearless, like his grandfather was.

There’s a woman more beautiful than starlight on the western sea, or so the poets tell her, in all their flowery words that praise her perfection. She avoids them when she can, knowing they expect something in return for their admiration. The woman picks white niphredil flowers, braiding them into night-dark hair before she dances. She is a performer, someone songs are written about.

There’s a man who takes after his grandfather, though he’ll never hear any more stories about him. He has lost his father, and he is all alone in the wilderness. The man becomes fearless and reckless, resisting the power of Morgoth as it spreads through his homeland, hoping to join his father and grandfather in death. He survives again and again, until he is written into songs, too.

There’s a woman more beautiful than starlight on the western sea, and one night as she dances there’s someone watching who wasn’t before. She’s afraid at first, but he’s afraid too, watching her with wary and hunted eyes. She comes to him, slowly, not wanting to frighten him away.

There’s a man who takes after his grandfather, and one night he’s stumbling through the forest, fleeing southwards from Morgoth alone and afraid. He sees a woman dancing, singing a song in a language he has not heard in a long time, and suddenly all he wants is to keep hearing that voice. He calls to her with the only name that comes to mind, and she turns.