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Post by oshun on Oct 24, 2008 18:24:00 GMT -6
Elwing and the Simaril
A great white bird hovered over the ship for a moment and then flopped down on the deck at Eärendil’s feet.
WTF, thought Eärendil, as something resembling a Silmaril fell out of its beak and rolled and hit his boot. He stooped over to grab it and when he raised himself back up, there stood Elwing, a bit bedraggled, wet, blue-lipped, but otherwise not in too bad of shape.
“Is that you, honey? Come here. You’ve got a feather in your hair.”
“OMG! You wouldn’t believe everything that has happened. They attacked the Havens of Sirion. It was terrible, horrible beyond belief. There was fighting door-to-door, blood everywhere, even brawling among themselves, setting things on fire. Terrifying.”
“But you escaped with the Silmaril?”
“Yes. I did. You keep it. I don’t even want to look at it anymore.”
“What’s wrong? Where are the boys now?”
“I’m not really sure. Maedhros and Maglor broke into the house, swords drawn, grabbed the boys, demanding the Silmaril.”
“And you did what?”
“I didn’t really have time to think clearly. I would’t have wanted to just give it to them, without even an argument, would I? So I took it and jumped out the window.”
“Well, then we have to go back and find the boys.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I think they’re probably dead already.”
“We can’t be sure, can we?”
“Well, not absolutely sure. But I'm sure Feanor's sons burned the house down. Even if we did find our boys we wouldn’t have anywhere to stay. I really don’t think it is safe to go back there carrying a Silmaril anyway.”
“I suppose you are right. Let’s just sail to Aman and tell the Valar that we’ve got the rock. Let them figure out what we should do next.”
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Post by ignoblebard on Oct 24, 2008 22:00:34 GMT -6
Worst. Parents. Ever. lol
I never thought that story made sense but, hey, if you'd rather leave your children to the tender mercies of kinslayers than give up a shiny rock...
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Post by ignoblebard on Nov 11, 2008 14:53:51 GMT -6
I read Oshun's latest chapter last night and wrote a little companion piece. A view from the other side as it were. ;D And, yes, I know it's not Friday but I had a day off, what can I say?
Vingarië rose with the sun shining through her window, sighed and made her way to the kitchen. She puttered around, preparing her morning meal and going over in her mind the things she would do that day. Ever since her no-account husband had sworn that, that oath and run off with his brothers the days pretty much blended into each other. What could he have been thinking, asking her to join him? Everyone knew that Elves belonged in Aman. Everyone except Fëanor’s crowd it seemed.
At least she wasn’t the only oath widow in the neighborhood. Caranthir and Curufin had left their spouses as well. Then there was poor Nerdanel who had it worst of all with that crazy husband of hers. But the thing that really chapped Vingarië’s creamy white buttocks was the love bond which kept them all in constant emotional touch with their errant husbands.
Even as she went about her mundane tasks she could feel Macalaurë’s excitement and anticipation. The Valar only knew what he was up to this time. She had dreamed of a feast, maybe that was it. Probably having the time of his life, the worm. While she was left to the dubious joys of Aman. Oh, how pleasant it was to shop the markets or visit a café and hear the whispers as you passed, see the pitying looks. She balled her elegantly long fingers into fists and allowed herself to fume a few seconds, hoping he could feel her displeasure.
Sometimes when sewing she deliberately pricked herself with the needle, hoping he would feel it. Sometimes when baking she deliberately burned herself on a pan hoping it would raise blisters on his harp finger. It was small consolation but small consolation was all that was left her.
As the day wore into evening, she settled in for her nightly needlework. She picked up the blank canvas and began to sketch, a picture of a deer taking shape under her nimble fingers. The creature looked almost as though it was dancing and it made her smile as she picked through and arranged the threads that would bring it to life. Maybe she would give it to Nerdanel, she could use some cheering up.
The evening grew later and the deer was filling in nicely. Perhaps she was making too much of it all. It’s not like Macalaurë would never return. They were husband and wife, they shared a bond no time or distance could breach. Eventually he might come to his senses. For the first time in many months thoughts of Macalaurë brought her not only pleasant thoughts but thoughts of another kind. She edged her legs together, a delicious feeling growing in her belly. One she had not felt since. . . She blushed and shifted in her chair. My, but it was getting warm, she thought. It was almost as though. . .
With a cry of surprise she flew from the chair as though a pitcher of ice had been dumped down her back, her needlework tumbling forgotten to the floor.
“Holy fuck!” she cried, her arse clenching in horror. “He’s gay!”
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Post by oshun on Nov 11, 2008 15:05:25 GMT -6
OMG! That is soo funny. I love the the take-off on the concept of the telepathic links! That is so hilarious. Just too many great touches.
You really done me in! I should be ashamed of myself for inspiring such a thing and with writing that is supposed to be semi-serious at least! I really like Vingarië here: "the worm" made me cackle.
And, "her arse clenching in horror" is unspeakably funny. What a way for him to come out to her (worse than the story I was telling about my nephew recently).
I think you should defend poor Luthien, she just got called a prick-tease and a cold-hearted slut in the latter part of that same chapter.
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Post by elfscribe on Nov 11, 2008 15:06:23 GMT -6
Oh that was choice! LOL!! Oath widow is perfect.
I really liked this idea. And it certainly brings up all those poor wives left behind. Really what was Tolkien thinking.
And your ending - so to speak. ;D It looks like Macalaurë was a real pain in the arse.
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Post by jael on Nov 11, 2008 15:36:27 GMT -6
Oh, the mental picture (complete with sensation)! ROFLMAO!!!!!
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Post by ignoblebard on Nov 11, 2008 16:15:28 GMT -6
Why? She is a prick-teasing cold-hearted slut, isn't she? At least that's the impression I get from fanfic. *innocent look* I'm glad you got a kick out of this. I figured you'd either laugh or want my head on a platter. ;D I would think they'd have a social club. Who else would understand them? And they could "comfort" each other and stuff. Not unlike what their husbands get up to in our stories.  You know I live to make you laugh. *grin* |
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Post by Moreth on Nov 11, 2008 17:38:21 GMT -6
IgB - you totally owe me a glass of wine. I just spluttered mine everywhere...
Oh, and a roll of tissue, please!
ETA: Now I'm going to bed, before you evil people can corrupt me anymore!
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Post by ignoblebard on Nov 11, 2008 18:57:36 GMT -6
*sends over a bottle of wine and a chamwow*
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Post by pandemonium on Nov 11, 2008 20:37:41 GMT -6
Great. I just Jackson Pollocked my monitor with buttermilk. Yes, buttermilk!
God, that was a scream, IgBee!
ETA: "the worm" did me in, too.
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Post by nierielraina on Nov 11, 2008 22:03:34 GMT -6
“Holy fuck!” she cried, her arse clenching in horror. “He’s gay!”
ROTFLMAO!
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Post by ignoblebard on Nov 11, 2008 22:59:15 GMT -6
Buttermilk? Ooh, that's gotta be messy. lol
*sends over a chamwow and a bottle of tequila, no worm*
;D
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