light-of-the-damned-stars

[light-of-the-damned-stars]

Edrahil for the fanfic “The Light of the Damned Stars”  

[light-of-the-damned-stars]

The shine of The Two Trees of Valinor was changing barely noticeable, animated the figures in the garden, made graven poses, glances and smiles to be movable. The stone, plaster and metal faces were turned in toward to the Ezellôχâr in different ways. So, some sculptures were covered by the shine of Telperion and Laurelin, and other one — by reflection from the mirrors behind. The facades and domes of the palaces were shining too. And thereby there was space without any shadow. Arafinwë liked such gardens.

The third son of Ñoldóran Finwë decided to first know, how Findarato felt, and then to go to his mother. He went down the alley, where blooming loaches entwined openwork chrysoberyl arches, and there were no other plants at all. There were dark areas here, the road was striped.

— Father, — Findarato went out to meet the father, emerging suddenly from behind the bushes with large number of gold bells. — Why didn’t you take me with you?

— How are you? — Arafinwë wanted to avoid the uncomfortable subject, but he failed to.

— I heard… — the son walked confidently enough along the crystalline crumbs, which had been scattered on the road instead of sand. However, it was still noticeable that he was cautious, — yes… I accidentally heard you were talking not only with your brother, but also with your nephew. That means that not only the sons of Finwë, but also the grandchildren, gathered for a conversation. Why didn't you ask me if I would like to attend the meeting? Or am I also punished like Findekáno?

— How can you be punished for what others have done? — Arafinwë took the heir by the hand, and went to the pond slowly. — You know, Nelyafinwë … There is a reason why he bears that name. I think, the son of Míriel wanted to have another order of The Houses of the Noldor. Unity of the elves would be impossible in any case, even if the queen Míriel didn’t go to Halls of Mandos. Even if I and Ñolofinwë didn’t exist! Because not only the son of Míriel can make predictions, so I have made it too. I guess, Fëanáro wanted to divide Noldor into The House of Finwë, The House of Curufin the Crafty and The Third House of the Noldor. He would give his father elves, who get stuck living in the past and don’t want to change themselves and to be covered by the shine of The Two Trees of Valinor. The House of Curufin the Crafty would unite the scientists and handymen under its orders. Finwë the Third Maitimo Russandol would dominate in the The Third House of the Noldor. He would get everyone else, who wouldn’t find a place among the first Eldar and the ranks of the creators. But do you understand, Ñolofinwë was born, and it became clear that not only the son of Míriel have the right to control something and someone.

— And what happened? — Findarato’s look became spiky, the voice sounded mockingly.

— It happened, — the youngest son of Ñoldóran sighed heavily and looked at the precious ring, — that king sits on the throne and watches tiredly endless assault of The First House on The Second. I was sick of it already in the childhood, and I…

Arafinwë rase his hand and slightly pushed precious fabric on the slave aside the wrist.

— This ring I ordered, when I understood, that Finwë the Third would never gain power as his father. Fëanáro waned so much at least one of his sons to be as him, but the seven Sons of Fëanor turned out to be too irresponsible. And only Maitimo did well everything, what was required of him. He did it even at the expense of his life. And so, he didn’t have enough time and force to create Third House of the Noldor. That is why I did it for him, even if I didn’t want to be involved in the separation of the elves. However, I am prince, and I cannot always stay away from these cases.

Coming near to the pond the son of Finwë touched golden petals of blooming irises on the shore.

— I have invested all my thoughts about my kin in this ring, — the nasty smile appeared on Arafinwë’s face making Findarato to be sarcastic mentally. — The green beryl symbolizes Túna, where were built our home Tirion. The flower crown above it — the queen Indis. I know, the father is the choice of the Valar, he had been called King of the Ñoldor by the Lords of the Valar, but he was tired of throne long time ago, so the mother had to take on too much. The snakes symbolize Fëanáro and Ñolo. You see, the snake, which attacks the flower crown, have flamelike patterns, and other one, which defends, is a little blue.

— Where is you? — Ingoldo couldn’t resist after all.

— I stand outside, son. And so should you. We must protect each other against aggressive snake, and also not let the wise one to use us. When my ring was finished, I started to create Third House of the Noldor expecting to call it just The House of Finarfin sometimes. But Fëanáro didn’t let me to decide how to call it. He always reminded me that I was descendant Vanyar, and I had to talk about the belonging to father’s relatives more frequently. I decided that Third House of the Noldor must combine three nations, and Eärwen support me.

— Your marriage is arranged, isn’t it, father?

The son of Ñoldóran looked at the heir condemning, like he reminded that was only way the son should make family, and all other ways were initially wrong, so the ridicule here were inappropriate.

— I and Eärwen invited in our house with green and gold flags everyone, whose families consisted of Noldor, Teleri and Vanyar, and who at the same time wanted to live in Tirion without feeling redundant here. And we managed to, do you understand? But if there were not “the snakes” …

— Without knowing the meaning of your symbols, — Findarato spread his hands, — others think there are we, who are “the snakes”.

— There is nothing to worry about. It is all right. However, we know the truth, and that is what matters.

— My bride is ideal for the Third House of the Noldor, isn’t she?

Arafinwë took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The shine of silver Telperion had already prevailed over the shine of golden Laurelin, the white flowers on the water began to seem phantom.

— Ingoldo Artafinde, — the prince breathed out, — I don’t try to punish you, to isolate you inside your home, or to humiliate you publicly. I just want you to be a decent member of our family.

— And not to cause any trouble by the friendship with the First House of the Noldor?

— Just get to know Amarië, — Arafinwë did not answered the question after all, — you will see how you will like her.

— Father, you are infinitely wise, — Findarato bowed carefully grimacing a little. — and honorable. I will get some strength because the young lady will want to hug me at the meeting, and I will have to be happy of it, and not to groan… hmm… about pain.

— Artafinde!..

— I am sorry, father. I am tired.

Findarato was condemning himself in his thoughts for expressing to the parent not everything he thought. However, he went to his bedroom.

The shine of silver Telperion was shining brighter and more mysterious, the shine of golden Laurelin had been faded. It was he would like to sing something disgusting. But for such reasons he wasn’t in the mood. And the father would be upset, he should be protected!

Well, if that was necessary.

Notices:

Illustration of Anna Konovalova https://vk.com/photo-185183650_457239387

Thanks for translation Daru Markelova

Full text https://ficbook.net/readfic/6544987

#fanfic #silmarillion #elves #the silmarillion #noldor #jrr tolkien #finarfin #finrod #valinor

[light-of-the-damned-stars]

https://ficbook.net/readfic/6544987

— Call my sons, — Fëanáro said thickly, looking throw the wall, either at treasures or at the wife quite dispassionately. — All of them. Even Nelyafinwë.

“Even? — his spouse wanted to object. — Even?! That fact your son isn’t like you doesn’t mean that you can ignore him! He is as son of Fëanor as others are! He is… he is even better! My Maitimo takes the best things after family Finwë and family Mahtan! What does this “even” mean?!”

And suddenly lifeless eyes of Fëanáro started to shine. Nerdanel came close to his husband, put her hands on his shoulders, hike her leg over his hip, embraced him.

— Nobody of you don’t remain true to me and to my ideals, — the master pulled away, — So, it doesn’t matter who will see the miracle first.

“I have already seen the miracle, — his wife was overthinking. — My impression is indelible!”

— If I go out of the room, — Nerdanel from last forces said flirtatiously, — you will lock the door again. I’m afraid, you will not let me come in when I knock.

Looking at the spouse, elf-woman thought, that she had given him a good idea, and that he really would hide here and would stay alone among treasures forever. Was that really what he wanted?

— No, — Fëanáro gave very weak laugh with heavy sigh, — I will make a separate container for my creations, here is no place for them. Go, call the sons.

“Thank you for not specifying about firstborn”, — the wife kept silence, gracefully turning in heels.

She came out of the room without hearing the sound of locking the door. Nerdanel thought that she didn’t want to call the sons by Ósanwë. What if they suddenly as their father would reject her too? That would definitely scandal. She wished her spouse had made The palantíri not only for the sons, but one more for her. The seeing-stone would be very useful at hand now.

The palantíri … There were toys for children, which had frightened whole Blessed Aman.

***

It was celebration for the sons organized by Fëanáro. But whole Indis’ family headed by the queen of Noldor weren’t invited here. However, Finwë was invited.

“Do you understand what situation you are putting me in, Curufinwë? — the king asked. Maybe, he did it on purpose with large number of outsiders, including Maia Ilmarë. She, probably, accidentally came in the Tirion palace, accompanied by whispering of flowers and herbals. — I begged Lords of the Valar to allow me to marry a second time. I assured them that it will be only for the benefit of my nation because the unhappy king cannot rule well. And now you make me look like an egoistic foolish man for which marital bed is more important than my elder son’s opinion! If you think so, you should know that you are wrong, Curufinwë! I love you more than other my children! And I am ready to believe in every of your words without checking! Doesn’t my blind love deserve indulgence of you?”

Fëanáro didn’t answer at that time. He only said that he would tell with father later in private. And only Nerdanel knew what the head of the First House of the Noldor thought and felt actually.

“You are excited, Spirit of fire, — The wife whispered hugging the husband and sliding her body against his one, — Your fire may have peaceful uses. Come on, give it to me in our bed! Make bedsheets, feather beds, pillows and me feel your fire. I want you to burn me. To the ground”.

Nerdanel saved Tirion from the anger of the son of Ñoldóran once again. She was sure that the situation had exhausted itself and that the celebration would be usual: it would be funny for some, boring – for others, and for still others it would be reason for jealousy and for rumors. Although, the situation turned out quite differently. That was to be expected because the sons of Tirion prince received as a gift from the father the wonderful things with extremely contentious use.

The seven palantíri were absolute alike black balls. They were heavy for little Ambarussas. However, it was twins, who were interested in the new toys the most — children started to roll the “balls” on the floor. The father gave the funny laughter.

“That is glass, right? — young Carnistir said, changing his face. — They will break!”

“Don’t cry, — Nerdanel told to son quietly looking at Maitimo and Macalaurë from the corner of her eyes. They in seriousness came from to learn how the gifts worked and to explain something Curufinwë, who was distracted always. — If The palantíri were dangerous, they wouldn’t be given to the children”.

“Let me check!” — Morifinwë got angry about something unclear, moved off, grabbed the first floor-chandelier he found, and hit the ball at full strength.

Fëanáro even didn’t move totally ignoring the actions of the fourth son. Morifinwë, it seemed, got angrier because of neglect. Having failed to break his own palantír, Morifinwë took a swing at the ball of Turcafinwë, who was peacefully looking at the inexplicable thing away from all the other brothers. The student of Vala Oromë reacted to aggression immediately, caught the chandelier and started to take away it from the younger but already the same strong brother.

Nerdanel noticed her husband doing nothing. She understood that she had to follow his policy, but it had cost her far too much effort.

“Maitimo”, — the elf-woman turned toward the elder son, who probably was just waiting for this.

In an instant, the eldest of the seven Sons of Fëanor was near to the younger brothers, stood up for Tyelko, and with him had taken away from Carnistir “the weapon”.

“I hate you!” — Carnistir cried, grabbed his palantír, and run away.

“And where is your The seeing-stone?” — Macalaurë asked the father when the dark figure of Caranthir the Dark disappeared behind the door, the chandelier was returned to the place as well as the candles scattered on the floor.

“I have no need it”, — Fëanáro said evasively.

“I imagine, — the second son of Fëanor, minstrel said dreamily, — that I am climbing up the main tower with the palantír, sending it at any point of Aman and seeing everything hidden from me!”

“How many more The seeing-stones do you plan to make?” – Nelyafinwë asked looking at the black glass.

“The Valar will not consent to make such things anymore, — suddenly Maia Curumo came in throw the opened terrace. He was as tall as elf, but his face and beard were more like Vala Aulë’s creatures, left in Middle-earth. — Fëanáro Curufinwë is not the Amanyar, who may be allowed this. The Valar don’t want the head of the First House of the Noldor to begin hounding whole Valinor”.

“Why do The Valar may keep our life under control, while we deprived of this opportunity?” — Fëanáro asked snidely.

At that moment Ñoldóran Finwë appeared in the room. He pretended that he hadn’t asked Lords of the Valar for help, and that Curumo’s emergence here was coincidence. The elf king immediately started to play with Ambarussas, and to avoid eye contact with every adult person, like it wasn’t purposely.

“You have forgotten, on whose land you are living, Curufinwë, — Maia reminded, took the palantír from Nelyafinwë’s hands and looked at it carefully. — I would ask you to give me one of The seeing-stones or to teach me how to make such things, but I know that Vala Aulë disapprove its use, so I wouldn’t”.

“Why haven’t Vala Aulë come and tell that all by himself? — Fëanáro said with interest, took the palantír away from Maia, and gave it to the son. — I don’t believe that he was confused by lack of invitation. After all, there is your land, you can go everywhere you want and at any time you want, and there is no need to invite you for it”.

“He doesn’t want to, — Curumo answered briefly. — I wish we were in this together, Curufinwë. I am sure, your ideas and my skills united, could change Arda beyond recognition. However, you by yourself make everything to be alone against everybody, either weak or strong”.

“I am not alone”, — the head of the First House of the Noldor answered. And the assistant of Vala Aulë kept silent.

***

Many persons opposed the creation of large number of The palantíri. Fëanáro assured it had been with the filing of The Valar. However, Nerdanel wasn’t sure that was true. Most likely, Eldar were afraid of pressure from the neighbor, who had already been too domineering, who didn’t take orders neither from his father king, nor from Vala-teacher.

The wife of Tirion prince thought about those things, but didn’t decide again, who was right. Then she called servants and requested them to invite the sons of Fëanáro Curufinwë in the treasury. And no matter what happened, they were obliged to support their father because he clearly had some rough times now.

Art by @bellabergolts

Thanks for translation Daru Markelova

#fanfic #silmarillion #the silmarillion #elves #jrr tolkien #noldor #digital illustration #feanor #silmarils #nerdanel #bellabergolts

[light-of-the-damned-stars]

https://ficbook.net/readfic/6544987

The Light of the Damned Stars

Checking everything for the hundredth time, Findekáno started to convince himself that he was right when he had chosen a daytime for the campaign for fortress of Morgoth. What is the possibility for enemies to have adapted to light? Or here, under cover of darkness there wasn’t time difference, was there?

There was rising rage. The son of Ñolofinwë didn’t want to think about Fëanorians badly. However, remembering desperate and ashamed Macalaurë, he couldn’t force himself to calm down. There was chest pain caused by wish to scream curses, to throw stones and everything that came to hand, to grab the sword and… To kill.

Why? Why had those Findekáno loved turned out to be so… So…

The brothers even didn’t agree to go with Nelyafinwë for talks! Were they really scared?!

The prince of the Second House of the Noldor was not able to accept what he had heard and thought about. He saw that mountains were already close enough and that large rocks, behind which it was possible to hide cart and horses, were over. He dismounted, checked equipment and everything in waist bag again, nodded silently to brothers, and ran to crags covered over with darkness.

***

Music became heard at the foot of the cliffs, when Ňoldo had come to the steep slopes to the distance of the arrow’s flight. It was one of theme of Music of the Ainur that sounded, there was no doubt. Findekáno decided he would prefer never to hear that song, but he quickly stopped thinking about it.

“Nelyafinwë, where are you?” — elf answered mentally, becoming confused with the labyrinth of his memories and emotions.

Mountains, mountains, mountains … Darkness…

There was mutilated corpse on the coast and desperate Canafinwë, who had lost hope…

Why, Eru?!

Mountains … they were all the same!

No, they didn’t look alike. They were not similar to one another. It is just music out of the ground that didn’t allow to focus. It created, but it was The Creation in the name of The Destruction! Here, in the bowels of the earth life was born with only one reason. It is to sow death.

Why was everything so?!

“Where are you, Nelyafinwë? Maybe, all in vain. Maybe, you are already dead… No. Morgoth didn’t parade you in order to kill you. He likes to see and to feel suffering of others. But the cursed enemy didn’t consider one fact that I don’t like it!”

Findekáno tried to calm down leaning against the surprisingly warm rock, which had been marked on the map by Macalaurë. The enemies didn’t see him because of disguise. However, time was against him! How long would he run here, along the ridge and search?

But also, to scream was a bad idea.

Having focused, Ňoldo reproduced in his memory the face of Nelyafinwë. There was a flame against the background of darkness. It was burning dead trees near to the royal palace at Alqualondë. Maitimo was looking toward the gateway, which were lost among the elegantly carved columns. At the feet there was riddled shield, on the left there was bloodstained armor. Nelyafinwë took off his helmet one-handed.

“I’m not Fëanáro”, — The words were sounded.

“Yes, Nelyafinwë, you’re not Fëanáro. And you never will be. No one can do it. But you are my brother. And even if you weren’t my relative, it wouldn’t matter! I will not let Morgoth to do that to elves, to ever one of us! Nelyafinwë … Hear me, please!”

Findekáno closed his eyes. If he used Ósanwë, he would betray himself. But spells of music worked differently!

A song sounded in his head, reminding about youth and the first riot against the father suddenly. It was just one of many songs.

Lips whispered the words, and it seemed to Findekáno, that the music of the depth lost her pace.

***

— I vow, — Maitimo hardly whispered, forbidding himself to think about brothers and to choose his words for everything events, which had happened, — to haunt forever… by fire and sword, — elf understood, if he tried to analyze or to justify the brother’s actions, it would get worse. Even if it seemed that it couldn’t get worse. — By my rage… everyone. Be it Vala or…

Collecting bit by bit his remaining forces, the son of Fëanáro tried to forget the terrible memories of Morgoth’s touching his head. These thoughts took him back unwittingly because of mention of enemy.

— Maia, elf, — Maitimo sighed as calmly as he could, — or another creature of Eru…

No, he shouldn’t remember his family! The family… and friends. The former friends...

—That, who already live or will be born… later… great or minor, kind or evil…

Rhythmical screeching of metal inside the mountain lost the beat suddenly. It was like two vortices had met and disrupt the rotations of each other.

Or luine menel ná

I arta laurea,

Calasse ando látina

Ar elen taurea.

Maitimo thought that he did hallucinate the brother’s voice, that even The Oath of Feanor wouldn’t save him from pain and despair, and that, nevertheless, the enemy had broken him down, when indifference of relatives had been all to clearly demonstrated.

“You think, your brothers are like you. You think, they are heroes. You are measuring them by your efforts. You are about to be disappointed, the son of the great Fëanáro Curufinwë. It will be only disappointment and revelation”.

— Who possesses or tries to possess… The Silmarillion, — Maitimo whispered with fear that wind increased. He tried to block the words of the enemy, which turned out to be too true and prophetic, — He will keep it…

Artasse — aldeon

Salquissen lóteo,

Entasse vantar vanime

Celvar ú nóteo.

— …or he will prevent the reconquering of…

Ve tulca minya nárefinda rá

Ar tatya — mundo, quanta henduo,

Nelya — sorno laurea menelya,

Eryar hendu calime úquétime.

— The Shrine of Fëanáro Curufinwë’s family… — Maitimo wanted just to last as long as possible and to not flinch because of bitter cold. Another way, sharp pain shot through his body. Despite, that pain was unavoidable, he wanted that was delayed just a moment later. — May The immortal darkness fall upon me…

Menelde látina

Min elen tintina.

Ta elya ná, a Vanima,

Tennoio elya ná!

Nelyafinwë, feeling the pain in the flesh, gritted his teeth and groaned. He unwittingly listened to simple melody, which was so dear to the heart. It drowned out the song of the fiery depths. There were spasms and cramp of crippled joints. Fëanorian wanted to continue telling The Vow despite the groans. But the charms of the music made him to succumb to them and to continue the song:

I mele — melima…

I faina — air’elen,

Nai tulya elenelya le

Artanna tienen.

***

— Nelyafinwë … You’re alive!

Hearing the answer Findekáno bounced off the rock and rushed to where singing seemed to him.

The peaks of three volcanoes with absolute cheer cliffs drowned in darkness beginning somewhere behind the ridge.

— Nelyafinwë! — the son of Ñolofinwë cried absolutely jumping stones in dirty under the feet and forgetting everything including safety. — Nelyafinwë!

The rising wind brought grey heavy clouds covering the daylight.

— Nelyafinwë! It is me! Findekáno! I will save you!

***

Maitimo looked down shaking with pain and cold. Numb lips pressed together slightly smiled.

— Fingon, — the son of Fëanáro sighed.

And he suddenly understood that willpower, existing all that time and helping to keep himself at the edge, was leaving him. Awareness that HELP was here, that now there was someone near, who wouldn’t leave him, that torments, tortures, and suffering were over, crushed him. There were not anymore reasons and wish in his soul to fight, to resist, to withstand. Path of another’s willpower was disrupted. There were sound of broken glass. It sank into eyes and throat. The last conscious words of Maitimo were a desperate request:

— Kill me, please! I can’t anymore!

He shouted it and then started to convulse and to cry without tears.

***

— That’s not why I’m here! Are you hearing me?! — Findekáno cried out and felt rising angry again. It seemed to the son of Ñolofinwë that he hated absolutely everyone and everything. Ňoldo raised the bow by shaking hands and cried feeling bad: — Not one arrow reaches you! Isn’t it obvious?!

Fingon absolutely didn’t understand how silly he looked like now. He got a closer look to find where he could hook to start rising. He suddenly fixed his eyes on person, who he came to save.

— Eru … How did you let it happen?

Findekáno couldn’t remember when there was last time of his crying. But he was absolutely sure that his tears would turn into nightmare forever.

At that moment the earth slipping away from under his feet. His mind refused to accept things he saw: Maitimo, who the son of Fingolfin knew as bright, strong and neat Ňoldo with a proud posture had turned into crooked and shaking skeleton covered by dust with the nest of grey hair. Findekáno hardly hid his bow, put his hand on the rock gasping for air and started to wipe the teas frantically.

Gust of icy wind hit him. There was groaning hoarse voice, which couldn’t belong to the son of Fëanáro! Maybe, it was really better to kill him?

— No, — Findekáno handled himself, — never! Maitimo must live! Contrary to this nightmare! To spite enemy! To spite all these pathetic cowards, who had betrayed him!

Hand putting on the rock moved toward the ledge. The surface wasn’t such smooth as it seemed!

— Hold on, Nelyafinwë! — The son of Ñolofinwë cried again for some reason. — I will save you!

— No, — wind wheezed, — Kill me. Have mercy on me.

Findekáno throwing hook again and again cursed Morgoth, rock, inability of seeing where he was going, and constantly repeated Nelyafinwë’s prayer to stop his torture. These words took breath away.

— Don’t you dare ask me to do it! — the eldest son of Ñolofinwë could not resist hearing “Kill me” once again. — Hold your tongue! You will be alive, whether you like it or not!

These words, oddly enough, acted. The slope of Thangorodrim became silent.

***

The hook caught something invisible, but it was fixed well. So, Findekáno, having checked was it safe, hiked. Hands and legs hardly found prop; pickaxe cut stone badly. But there were hundred miles of crossing ice, of moving through slippery high blocks, which crumbled because of strikes of metal edge. It trained in a lot of things. In addition, to grab his hands for warm stones was much more comfortable than for ice floes, which tore gloves, burnt

hands, and stuck to the skin.

The hand, feeling stone, fell into a square hole with perfectly smooth edges. However, Findekáno was unable to analyze, what is it. But he didn’t care. It’s like to call a spade a spade. It didn’t matter. There was only one guess: it was suitable to hold on to such “holes”.

Earth moved rather away, the goal became closer and closer. The prince of the Second House understood that he shouldn’t hurry because it was danger of slipping and falling. He dismissed involuntary thoughts that every moment he stood there is eternal time for suffering Nelyafinwë.

“Hold on. It will be over soon”, — the son of Ñolofinwë thought. He didn’t say it out loud to avoid hearing cursed phrase “Kill me” as an answer.

Higher, higher …

“It may be caves above Nelyafinwë, — Ňoldo thought trying to hook blindly again, —Otherwise how did they hang him there?”

Pickaxe was stuck in crack. Fingon hardly pulled it out to move forward. He took a deep breath. Almost got there. Now the main thing was not to fall with person, who he wanted to save.

Maitimo didn’t look his way. The son of Fëanáro was shaking and breathing heavily through clenched teeth. His skin was terribly wrinkled and thinned. It was stretched around his skull, calling which the face – the language didn’t turn.

“Don’t hurry, don’t hurry!” — Findekáno told himself feeling his hand were shaking again.

Fixing the safety rope with the help of something invisible above Maitimo’s head, the son of Ñolofinwë found ground to stand and moved to his brother.

— I’m asking you…, — dry bloody cracked lips said quietly.

Findekáno decided to say nothing. He stood on something, which might be reliable. Then he cuddled up to the rock and picked up the brother under the chest. Ňoldo lifted his brother a little to reduce the pressure on the shoulder. The lean body turned out to be totally relaxed and unable to bear his own weight. It was shaking. The head was tilted back. Exhausted Maitimo cried. It seemed to Fingon that his cousin passed out for a moment, but then regained consciousness immediately.

Cursing his imprudence, the son of Fingolfin still managed to sit his brother on his knee and to put the brother’s head on his hand.

Ňoldo took out a little bottle from his bag. He had to use his teeth to open this bottle. Then he held it to bloody lips.

— No need to…, — the son of Fëanáro sighed, — It is useless.

— Drink it, Nelyafinwë! — Findekáno’s hand faltered. — It will remove the pain.

The empty faded eyes looked at the son of Ñolofinwë. These eyes had nothing of the earlier view. Everything was dead, there was only pain.

— It’s for the pain, Nelyafinwë, — Fingon repeated in a cold sweat of horror.

The dead stare came alive for a moment, barely noticeable echo of gratitude came into the eyes.

When the bottle became empty, the son of Ñolofinwë through it down, took the flask with water and helped his brother to drink until the medicine worked. Maitimo started to fall asleep.

Findekáno saw that the brother’s chest became to move up and down evenly without seizure. The chest was skewed and covered by scars, which were seen even through the layer of black dust. Fingon fastened his brother with two wide safety belts very carefully and covered him by that dirty rag, which was on the bony shoulders. It seemed; it had cloak been before. The prince didn’t touch the left hand, which were sewn to the hip with metal ring, to avoid new torture of the brother. Fingon made sure that the belts were securely fastened. Then he reached for the steel ring, which kept Nelyafinwë’s wrist on the rock.

***

Just from touching the metal Findekáno understood immediately that situation was very bad. It seemed that steel was the part of the arm but not the shackle. To turn the wrist or to break it did not work. It was like cursed metal grew from the bone. The son of Ñolofinwë tried to grab the cuff to unclench it. He felt brother’s hand shaking. The gnarled bony fingers with long fingernails, contrary to logic, were moving a bit, when they were touched accidentally. The veins and cores were seen through the transparent skin. It was terrible sight.

The steel didn’t boil. Findekáno decided to try to pull the ring out of the rock. He started to pull on the shackle. It was useless.

Trying to unclench enchanted metal again, elf felt that Maitimo started to shake: whether medicine stopped to help, or the son of Fingolfin pulled too rapidly and unsettled crippled joints of the brother.

— In the name of… The Creator… — the son of Fëanáro whispered breathing hardly. — Eru … take The Oath… and call upon…

Findekáno pulled on the shackle, and Maitimo groaned constrained.

— As witness of my words… — he said in a hoarse voice by force. — The Lord…

New dash was sharper. The exhausted body was shaken.

— Fingon, — Fëanorian barely audible whispered, — I’m begging, stop. It is useless, see it? — half-dead captive took a deep breath and groaned. — Don’t torture me anymore, please. You are able to kill, I know.

Findekáno knew it too, but he wasn’t going to do it. Not now! He understood that there was no other way out. And he hated himself for failing in unclenching the shackle, hated Morgoth for his violence, hated Nelyafinwë for the prayer for death, hated everyone else for not having helped earlier. And that hate deprived the ability to think clearly. The son of Ñolofinwë took another short belt from the waist bag.

— Fingon, — Maitimo whispered again with groan, — go on. One attack… Please!

“How to make him keep silence?!” — Findekáno exclaimed mentally.

The answer came in an unexpected way, when the horrible music out of the ground was heard louder suddenly.

The son of Fingolfin pulled the brother’s hand very slowly and carefully, and then he started to sing quietly like he lulled the baby:

— Beneath the azure skies,

A golden city lies.

The city gates transparent are

And there’s a brilliant star.

Maitimo stopped talking. The breathing had improved.

— It has a garden, where

Grows grass and flowers there;

And all-around stroll animals

Of unseen beauty fair.

His hand was tightened, and swollen veins became pinched.

— And in those azure skies,

A brilliant star burns there.

It is your star, my angel eyes –

Forever yours, my fair.

Findekáno, continued singing. He very slowly and silently scraped his short sword from his scabbards. It was perfectly sharpened.

One who is loved, does love.

Who shines, must saintly be.

Let way be lit by star above

To garden, that’s for thee.

Swing. Strike. Blood spurted. Maitimo’s hand, getting out unnaturally, dropped. The arm remained in the same place being handcuffed to the rock. Fingers were shaking and then fell slowly.

The son of Fëanáro stood still. He desperately hoped that Nelyafinwë didn’t die. The prince dropped the sword down, checked the safety net subconsciously and started to abseil as fast as he could.

Nelyafinwë groaned. Firstly, it was quietly. But then, former captive of Morgoth started to shake more and more and to cry intermittently with drawing air loudly and convulsively.

— Hold on, Nelyafinwë! — Findekáno’s words sounded like the order to rush into battle. — Hold on! You can do this! You are able to do this!

With no memory how the son of Ñolofinwë had appeared on the ground, he took off the rope and left it to hang on the rock. He ran to the cart as fast as he could, leaving a blood trail. He even didn’ worry about safety already. He could only think of one: to reach the cart, to safe gasping Maitimo, to bandage a stump of the hand, to give the “patient” more the elixirs from pain. And to take him to healers as soon as possible!

***

There were two escorting elves waiting near the big stone. The son of Fingolfin didn’t care about where were others. He cut off the belts, which connected him with his brother. Ňoldo carefully laid crippled passed out elf on the blankets and cried to brethren to go fast. Their faces were contorted in terror at the sight of the son of Fëanáro.

Findekáno sat down near to the herbalist and brother, who being unconscious curved toward the left and whose hand didn’t drop. Ňoldo wiped the dirty off of the brother’s face with wet towel, the fabric clung to the bronze capital inserted under the skin of the head. And then he saw that there was a strange blackness under the Maitimo’s eyes, that forehead and lips were turning blue, and that breathing had become too weak.

“I will not take Nelyafinwë to his brothers, — he felt bitter awareness, — It is too far away”.

— Thirio! — Findekáno cried to the elf, who ruled the cart. — To my father! Faster! Go to the camp of Ñolofinwë!

Notes:

The song “Beneath the azure skies” (Words Anry Volohonsky. Translated from the Russian for singing by ©John Pedio).

Translation into Elvish language — M' Aquillius Arthoron

Art by Håndwerk

Thanks for translation Daru Markelova

#fanfic #silmarillion #elves #the silmarillion #noldor #jrr tolkien #digital illustration #maedhros #fingon

[light-of-the-damned-stars]

The new song for my fanfic https://ficbook.net/readfic/6544987

Greatest thanks to Evgeniy Belikov for the music, Alexander Cap for vocal and Larisa Pozdnyakova and Anna Konovalova for lyrics

Listen to Noldolante. Dagor-nuin-Giliath. The Light of the Damned Stars.wav by Asha Mount-Doom on #SoundCloud

https://on.soundcloud.com/P1SDH

#fanfic #silmarillion #elves #the silmarillion #noldor #jrr tolkien #elf #dagor nuin giliath

[light-of-the-damned-stars]

https://ficbook.net/readfic/6544987

An air near to a lake was filled with heat, birds’ voices, and children’s laugh. However, fun became the fight soon. It became clear from changing sounds from the coast.

There were thoughts, which meant “Where is the nanny looking? Why she isn’t separating babies? They can suffer”. But that thoughts were marked by only long-drawn groan “Woo woo”. Then old woman, who wasn’t even forty solar years, followed the noise limping and scrubbing swollen knees.

— Woooo!

The almost completely gray-haired woman’s voice was still loud and could even rein in some youth, who knew their sins. So, saying to them “Woooo!” made be ashamed and ask for forgiveness. The most offensive thing for children and youth was the fact that despite of twisted knobby joints clingy old woman could suddenly hit. Her heavy hands were like a big man’s, so her hits were very painful. In addition, she was completely incorruptible: she had never accepted gifts and treats and allowed others to caress her. By the way, she always stood over them until they returned to what they had been before.

— Woooo! WOOOO WOOO!

Strong knotted bent fingers squeeze the stick, which was usually used to run or kill uninvited guests in dugouts or huts: rats, hedgehogs, foxes, badgers, and snakes.

— Aaaah! — children screeched to different voices. They told each other that it was time to hide to avoid reconciling and playing quietly under the care of the angry granny.

A tall smiling younger woman, who babysit walking boys and girls, shrugged here shoulders guiltily, but didn’t allow granny to come to her wards. She bore a child recently. So, she covered her chest by the rabbit skins, because wind was the insidious enemy of nursing mothers. The nanny speaking something patted the main fighter with the matted wavy hair. That was demonstration that the boy didn’t have lice. It meant the boy was taken care of well and there was no reason to make woo-sound. Everything was under control!

The old woman threatening with her stick, straighten lynx fur on the hips and groaning, walked back to the hut. It had been built by her husband, who died in an ice hole during fishing some winters ago. His brother and grandson had been able to get out there, but they died of the flu soon.

— Nya-nya-nya! — the nanny started to babble, gathering around her children again. — Mya-mya-mya!

Children sniggered, clapped their hands.

— Give! — baby with plaited hair cried pointing the blossoming branch of the shrub. — Gi-i-i-i-i-ive!

— No-no, — the nanny wagged a finger, older children repeated that gesture. — Nom!

The woman explained by one word that there was prohibited to pick these flowers because they would become edible fruits soon. She started to show how to weave toys from spikelets and blades of grass. Most children became interested in it and set to work: some were good at, other weren’t, some made it for themselves, other as a gift, some repeated after the nanny, other tried to make it by themselves. And there were some children, who weren’t interested in it. They became bored and started to fight again looking at the granny’s hut.

— Wooooooo! — the nanny mumbled as a joke. Her wards burst out laughing and forgot about crafts and tinkering.

— Baby! Baby! — the sound came from the dugout near to the turn of the flowing stream.

All mothers called children that way, but every child knew his mother’s voice and answered only to that. Three children dropped their woven grasses and ran to the call. The older girl took younger brothers’ crafts and brought them to her mother as a gift. Other children continued playing and waiting for call to eat.

***

The tribe had long since stopped being one family. Hunters and gatherers couldn’t bring food for all anymore. It had become impossible because of growing population. Families started to be divided, and some strong and healthy men with their parents, children and grandchildren went out in the woods. People, who stayed near to the lake, called themselves “We”, and leaving people – “They”. Leaving persons disappeared from life of tribe. “We” either forgot leaving people or talked about them sadly. People near to the lake explained to children that “They” lived in the endless scary forest, that here (where “We” were) is safely, and “They” left, so “They” disappeared.

“We are here, They are there”. And that was all.

— We-we-we-we-we-e-e! — shouts came from the trees. It sounded like howl or song meaning successful finish of hunting and love for the native tribe.

Women and children picked up funny mood seeing brothers, fathers and sons came back. “We-we-e-e” sounded from all sides.

A fire for cooking was made by The Keepers of the fire. There were four people. Only one of them was young guy. Others were three old men, who were a little more years old than incorruptible granny. Their health deteriorated rapidly so every one of them was ready to die and chose the hillock for burial. Because if the tribe didn’t commit their bodies to the ground, the corpses would smell terrible. And every one of these old men looked for a successor. It was a very responsible task to keep a fire in the tribe: to find a fire was very hard quest and it was impossible to make it! So, it couldn’t be allowed flame to go out.

People, of course, didn’t remember how they had seen forest fires at first time, when almost all plants of era of stars had died because of the new daylight. And then deadwood started to burn. All the living things ran away from the fire in fear. However, at the edge of the burning forest it was warm on the coldest autumn nights. But not every human dared to go near to trees dying in the fire. So, there were those who thought of bringing flame in their dugouts.

No one remembered and could transmit to descendants the story about two young men. They fought over a girl, who weaved the most beautiful wreaths in the summer. Men rushed to fire. Others were scared to run and stayed in the cold and dampness, warming up by heat of each other. They were sure that the crazy brave men were dead.

Men went away together, but only one came back. And, of course, he couldn’t talk about other’s fate, even he wanted it.

But the hero didn’t want to.

Being brought by him flame went out soon. The hero had to go again. Branch became ach and it needed to sacrifice dried wreaths of the fiancée to save fire. The girl cried burning her wreaths. However, it really became warmer in the dugout, but for a moment. Then, brave man went for a long time and came back with a whole bundle of sticks. He showed other people that it wasn’t scary to gather sticks for fire. And others understood that even children could handle it.

Since then, there always were fires in houses.

People also didn’t remember that one day their ancestors had lost fire. Forest fire had already gone out. So, people froze again. They weren’t able to do all things they had studied due to fire: cooking, making durable cookware of clay and cauterizing wounds. The tribe walked in thickets and looked for flame desperately. Until one day, during storm, lightening hit a tree.

Perceiving that event as something divine people often started to address the sky as it was living being. They asked for help in different situations and quite often noted answers to prayer.

***

It was extremely difficult to teach each other and to transfer the experience and knowledge without ability to say right words. The accidentally obtained skill of drawing changed everything for a little bit better.

Children often fooled around drawing traces of birds with their fingers or sticks on the sand. The smartest one drew simple pictures, how large birds hunted smaller birds. There were big marks crossing tiny marks. But then people with imagination started to notice on the river pebbles, cortex and moss simplified schematic pictures remotely similar to surrounding objects. They redrew it on the ground with cane. And there were those who wanted to capture whole stories, redrawing everything that caught their eyes. It turned out, coals could paint walls of dugouts, and grass – even fur and skin! Juice of berries made picture more interesting, in addition it would smell nice. They were getting really good at recreating green grass, black hair and red fire on clothes, stones, and cortex. And sometimes they managed to find stones, which painted white for drawing faces and snow.

Maia Arien, understood that she couldn’t communicate with people as easy as with elves from Valinor. However, she told the second of the Children of Ilúvatar, how to draw subject more similar to original: If people contoured shadow at the right time, proportion would remain in almost. In that way they even could cut out clothes! Moreover, people quickly noticed, how sharp broken bones could be, how easy it could cut flesh, so people started use it as an instrument. It meant, animal leather wouldn’t be problem, as soon as they would realize, how and where they should cut.

People learned step by step to draw stories, site plans and educational pictures. So, The Keepers of fire managed somehow to transfer and to save their knowledge, which as fire shouldn’t be entrusted to everyone unfortunately. Because it could be used against the own fellow tribesman!

The fire flared up; clay pot was on poles. People placed handful of logs next to fire. It started to burn.

***

People of the tribe called “We” didn’t think a lot about starting a family: If you liked each other, you would come together. If you were lucky, you would have a baby. If you weren’t, so it meant you didn’t need to. You already had enough work: cooking, cleaning, gathering, and stocking food, making clothes from skins, preparing wood, exploring new fertile plains and rivers, making new instruments of labor, taking care of sick and old people and children. And you should have time to rest.

It could have continued to be so, if only at the moment, when the second pot had boiled, crowd of strangers didn’t emerge from forest with loud cry. из

— “We!” — big man cried with impressive large club puffing his hairy chest, which was covered by scars. — Me! — he pointed himself, — My! — put his finger on the nearest hulk. — My! My! — counted his brethren, who were much more than fingers on all four limbs. — Mine! — he pointed all around armed tribe, giving a sign that all of them were his sons or grandsons. — “We”!

— “We”? — the eldest lakeside inhabitant protested. He understood that these people were counterparts, who had left sometime and that now they wanted to dominate her, — “We” are we! — old man pointed his tribe explaining “us and them” system. — You are… — he waged a furled finger at audacious bruiser, — … not “We”! You are “They”! There! — old man indicated the direction in which “They” should go.

— “We” are we! — armed crowed argued.

Despite tiredness returned hunters stepped forward.

— «We» are we and you, — the best fox and bear hunter proposed “in an amicable way” to unite. He explained in gestures that lakeside inhabitants didn’t want conflict, but the leader wouldn’t be changed.

— No-no! — stranger objected giving a sign that he used to manage.

— Nanny, baby, granny? — old man asked former brethren to show their women and children. He wanted to know if there was any danger to his own family: If weak members of the tribe looked like trapped beaten animal, their leader should be driven by all means.

The stranger categorically refused to, demonstrating adult sons again.

People understood that it was impossible to have so many descendants about the same age with only one wife, despite people hadn’t thought about it earlier.

— Me is “We”! — happy father of many children said again. The most respected men of the tribe reflected and accepted all the terms.

After all, lakeside inhabitants decided to avoid risk of fighting with so aggressive strangers. Maybe they would get more food or would prepare more wood.

Though, having drawn their own conclusions, the tribe decided to prevent invasion of new “They” in advance and parents started to marry their sons and to marry off their daughters even against their children’s will.

***

Lucky hunter watched his favorite one of wives brushed adult daughter’s hair and disassembled mats by skillful hands. Man smiled from ear to ear and wanted to have one more child. However, there was another wish to help his spouse and to make a surprise for her somehow.

In recent times it was possible to have several wives for some men of the tribe: leader’s family and the best in the business hunters, masters, fishermen, or healers. Craftsmanship as right to a large family was not inherited. Masters tried to explain their own and other children all information at once. And children decided what they wanted to learn. In general, it was occupation, which was the most pleasure and the easiest to do. Of course, there were idlers, but there were also those who punished laziness the most.

The hunter thought what he should do at the beginning: to make a surprise for wife or to make one more baby. Man chose the second variant. And then he went to master, who made instruments of bone and stone, for advice.

Hunter explained by gestures and characteristic motions of lower body, what his wife impressed him so. And then man stared at master with hope:

— Waaaah?

— Mm-hmm, — the interlocutor nodded.

After a short time, the master made the first comb of bone, which looked like open palm. The favorite hunter’s wife didn’t understand at first, but then she was surprised, really excited, and quickly agreed to make more children. And daughter getting the new comb run to boast of the strange new thing to tribesmen.

— Oh! Ooooh! Ah! — children and adults wondered. Nanny took the strange thing and pulled a hairspring from this thing. Though, it didn’t slip off, but it tore making melodic quiet sound. It was hardly heard, but when the woman called children to come closer and repeated unexpected focus, everybody had fun. So, every child started to pull out their hair, to tie to the comb and to pull it. Then they used blades of grass, spikelets, twisted stems. Children quickly remembered that forest animals had whiskers, which also could be used for playing. They just needed to ask hunters to give them whiskers after hunting. And soon masters had significantly more work with creating combs and connecting it with whiskers or some hairspring. Sometimes it was weaved to strengthen the construction. After some time, bony basis was changed to wooden ones, because there was no need to make strong things for playing. Besides, even child could decorate a new toy now carving into it something, which only he understood.

To chant the name of the tribe become possible by not only different voices with whistle and stamping but also with accompaniment.

***

Getting on the track of an animal, hunters looked forward it for a long time. Though in the end they found hole. That was crop year, so forest was full of birds, fish, and animals. Having killed she-wolf men looked at her wolf cubs with question: what’s the point of killing them? There was not much meat, the same was fur, their teeth were too bad for jewelry, and their bones were very small.

— Ooh! — one of men waved his hands in the air suddenly, explaining that he had idea.

Hunters had brought hares from the forest recently for children’s fun. So, hares had grown up and bred. And now people could have dinner without going to hunt. The main thing was to keep animals from scattering. By the way, people could just break back legs of hares.

— Oh! Yeah! — his brother agreed to.

If wolf cubs grew up, they would have more meat and fur. People could feed them with hares or rats, who keep messing everywhere. Why didn’t they try? It was good year, there was enough food for everyone.

At that moment people didn’t know yet that they wouldn’t have to brake back legs of wolves that grew up with the people. That beasts would be devoted to their masters enough.

Full text https://ficbook.net/readfic/6544987/23284115#part_content

Thanks for translation https://vk.com/id575217694

Art by @art.saidova

#silmarillion #fanfic #the silmarillion #jrr tolkien #digital illustration #adan #edain #savage #fantasy

[light-of-the-damned-stars]

25 posts!

#25 posts #tumblr milestone

[light-of-the-damned-stars]

💚💚💚

Arferedir from the fanfic “The Light of the Damned Stars”

#elf #silmarillion #jrr tolkien #sindar #ossiriand

[light-of-the-damned-stars]

“Fly away on wings of wind,

To our homeland, song of ours!

Where we sang you freely,

The place where, together, we were so untroubled.

There, under the dark sky

The air is full of bliss,

There, among the sea's cover,

The mountains are slumbering in the clouds.

There, the stars are shining so bright,

The native mountains of silver’s shining in the light,

In the valleys, the herbs are richly blooming,

The nightingales are singing in the foggy forests…”

The sing of wind sounded by voices of birds and leaves never experienced bright light. Having crossed a sea envoy of the king of Arda did the lap over the lilac plain and rushed to the mountains, behind which a wind stirred thick crowns of trees.

— Freedom, — Manwë Súlimo said looking with the eyes of the gigantic eagle throw the thicket, — Has it ever been existed? Even Ainulindalë was dictated to us.

Standing on the openwork balcony, which was flooded with light of Two Trees of Valinor, with his queen — Varda Elentári, Lord sighed.

— Freedom isn’t limitless, —responded Queen of the Stars, whose snow-white skin was shining against the background of black like eternal darkness hair and blue-and-silver dress. — And it must remain so without changes because everything has a limit, and it must reckon with those who is close.

— However, nobody prohibits your stars to shine as they please.

— The dome of the sky over Arda is also not never-ending. And other stars don't belong here.

— You are right. And there is Creator’s design. I just tried to understand what could haven’t suit those crazy rebels.

Manwë kept silence a bit and then continued but he stopped to speak out loud and to use elf-like flesh for speech:

“Do you like to remember how we tried on bodies? It was hilariously, wasn’t it? “

“Yes, we spent our time and power creating beautiful hröas for ourselves. And it was whim, but necessary whim”.

“We had limited freedom of our spirits. Although it is more comfortable for living in Arda”.

The Lord and Lady of the Valar made eye contact. They were bringing the past to life when all Ainur had seen the first of the Children of Eruhíni through all-seeing eyes of eagles of The Lord Manwë Súlimo. Wonderful, perfect and harmony creatures appeared out of stellar twilight on the coast of the lake, awoke and moved up from sand and grass. They looked at each other, touched and researched each other with naive curiosity. And Valar did the same thing to new dress-body. Elves tasted dishes, drinks, explored ability of flesh, sharing their feelings, and presenting the most pleasure things to the most liked person.

Valar did the same.

Fly away on wings of wind,

To our homeland, song of ours!

Where we sang you freely,

The place where, together, we were so untroubled.

“We were searching for pleasure, King of Arda. Chose the most delicious dishes, created and harmonized magnificence. But not everyone did that”.

There, under the dark sky

The air is full of bliss,

There, among the sea's cover,

The mountains are slumbering in the clouds.

There, the stars are shining so bright,

The native mountains of silver’s shining in the light,

In the valleys, the herbs are richly blooming,

The nightingales are singing in the foggy forests.

“Melkor has become disembodied and closed, Star-kindler, and we will purge his scourge as much as we have the strength”.

All-seeing eye of the eagle-envoy circling over the forest of Middle-earth, focused on timid motion below.

Manwë grimaced with a sigh: in the dark of eternal night there, on the ground overgrown with black-and-lilac moss, was wicked body similar to elfchild, but with adult elf head which was hardly connected to thin neck with the circular scar. That creature swarmed and looked for mushrooms. Arms and legs were inverted: left were on the right, right — on the left. Moving octopus’ tentacles stuck out from the ripped stomach. And there was donkey’s-like tail from the waist. It was unclear, in what way that creation stayed alive. In addition, it ate poison luminous toadstool, which had been originally conceived as reflectors of starlight by Yavanna, but then spoiled by Melkor and became dangerous. However, it seemed there were those mushrooms, which allowed that suffering fugly to continue its existence.

— The edible meat, — Manwë said aloud again. — Thorondor, — he addressed the eagle, — you can feed your nestlings.

The bird rushed down.

— My Lord Súlimo, — a Manwë’s herald appeared at the balcony rapidly but without any sound, — Fëanáro Curufinwë arrived at the Taniquetil. With gifts. Will you host him?

***

One more map was deployed on the table near to a large arched window of a tall tower. It had to move aside a long telescope on a stand, in which there were a lot of lenses.

— Ertuil, — eldest son of the king Finwë and the first queen of the Ñoldor Míriel Therindë pressed the edges of a piece of paper down with artificially grown crystals and addressed the friend, — I believe I have reached sufficient height of mastership to make presents for Valar.

The assistant hemmed and put drawing tools off.

— You have changed since you started to in-depth study Valarin, Fëanáro, — he said with interest, — It’s like language of The Creators has helped you with research and revealing the talents. As if it is your mother tongue.

“Nerdanel also says something like that, — prince thought, — but in another situation, — remembering the marriage bed, son of Ñoldóran smiled. — How I wish she could share my studying Arda, instead of wasting an eternity to coddle my enemies! “

— I haven’t studied influence of Valarin on the ability of Eldar yet, — Fëanáro looked down at the maps of Aman with fiery eyes, — I want to find gemstones by myself and decorate gifts for Valar with them.

— But why, father? — Curufinwë, the younger, being busy all that time by rewriting methods of cutting ruby, stopped reading book. — After all we always can ask for help Vala Aulë or Maia Curumo, and they would easily lift from any depth crystals and metals we need.

Looking at the fifth son, prince almost withered him with a look first, but became weary-indifferent very soon, they say, you don’t understand so it makes no sense explaining.

— There is a pattern, — Fëanáro set about trying to insist, — metals and gemstones are in not every place, and the forges of Aulë are placed not randomly. We have enough metals and knowledge for toolmaking, so we… — the eldest son of Ñoldóran took a sharpened ember wrapped in cloth and drew a perfect circle around the west ridge, — we’ll go there.

Curufinwë, the younger, tired of travel with Tyelkormo, became sad — he didn’t want to leave his house and beloved workshop again.

— Ertuil, — Fëanáro ordered standing up rapidly, — assemble the team. We’re leaving tomorrow, in the morning. Curufinwë, watch the forge.

Atarinkë’s joy knew no bounds, however Fëanorian didn’t demonstrate his happiness: the father acted mercifully, intentionally, or not, but in any case, it shouldn’t abuse good fortune.

In addition, the fifth son of master had hope to find the study Valarin notes, that had been hidden by his father, but all attempts ended in failure. There was no way the greatest linguist of Aman just wiped out all his writings! Or… he could do that? But what for? Did he really not regret wasted efforts?

***

If The Lord Manwë Súlimo wanted, he would find out, what appearance of Fëanáro Curufinwë at the Taniquetil had been preceded by, he would heard as if in reality, that prince had asked his father to go with him, and that Ñoldóran Finwë had stipulated a condition: either Indis kept him company, or the king stayed in Tirion. Vala would saw in minds and hearts of arriving elves, what reaction they had waited for. There were awaiting master himself, his spouse, and sons, as well as the eldest Fëanorian’s wife and prince’s faithful helpers, without whom idea turned out to be impossible, or demand thousands of years.

King of Arda could do almost everything, but he didn’t see the point of it.

— Accept this belt that I made as a gift, —Fëanáro bowed to Valar after greetings, giving the decoration, which was lying on the white silk.

Master started to tell how he had found by himself a field of large sapphires and high-quality silver, how he had mined and processed it, had rejected some crystals because they had been with bubbles or spots, how he had invented unique faceting and had assembled finished product. He went on and on, but at some point, he understood — Manwë didn’t listen to him looking at the gift carefully. And then Valarin was coming from the prince of Ñoldor.

It seemed, the palace itself and even the rock where the palace was reacted to Curufinwë.

— It is perfectly, Fëanáro, —The Lord Súlimo beamed and gave a sign to his spouse for helping him to fasten the belt under a snow-white mantle. — It really deserves to be wore by Ainur.

Sapphires played with colors in the light, silver emphasized the beaty of the elegant gemstones and stood out among the light fabric.

— You could grow crystals yourself, Fëanáro, — Varda smiled, looking at the guests carefully and waiting for especial veneration. She saw it in admiring looks of those, who had never seen black starry sky, — you needn’t have dug the earth.

— It is true, — prince bowed to her, — The Lady. However, I’m still not ready to part with whatever belongs only to me from birth.

— One day, —Manwë said dreamily, giving a sign to servant to lay the table for the guests, — you will create something great enough to consider it worth to be a gift for Valar. However, all the time, master.

Nerdanel could feel with her skin how badly the words of The King of Arda touched the pride of Fëanáro. Just in case taking husband under the arm and cuddling him tightly, elf picked up an apple from the thin-weaved tablecloth and biting a little bit gave it to her husband coquettishly.

Curufin the Crafty breathed out and smiled.

Notation:

Song: Translation of the Russian song “Половецкий танец из оперы А. Бородина "Князь Игорь"

Full text https://ficbook.net/readfic/6544987

Thanks for translation

Art by https://vk.com/catharisen_art

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[light-of-the-damned-stars]

1.

In the silverish gold of light, the jeweled dew was dropping through the velvet curtain of night, richly embroidered with the stars. The celestial sparkles, recreated as a stranding of diamond threads, seemed alive pulsating and changing its shape.

White elegant hands of an elf that had long forgotten hard work gently embraced his wife’s shoulders. They got under a shawl that seemed to be carelessly put on, yet it was intended to be like that.

“Miriel,” he sighed passionately; his palms slid lower, squeezing breasts and then lower to her waist, “you know, Ingwe’s third child was born.”

“I’m tired, Finwё,” sadly replied the elf, leaving the spinning wheel fully made of silver.

Silence fell upon them. The spouses had not once said everything to each other and the ever-ready World Creators with whom they dwelt side by side.

“My love, your sadness upsets the Lords. It was them who took us from the dark, perilous lands, beyond the sea to their Blessed Land, so that the People of the Stars would be happy.”

“By force?”

“Miriel! What are you talking about? We have everything we’ve ever wished for! Remember, when you craved for the embroidery threads from jewels, which nobody but you could use? Remember Vala Aulё, the Creator of Mountains and Minerals, crafted for you magic threads and scissors, the only ones in Arda capable of cutting them? Are you not grateful?”

“Fëanáro, the Spirit of fire,” the queen smiled sadly, calling the heir’s name she gave him, “I don’t know how to bring him up here, Finwё. Don’t know what to teach, what to tell and how. The past of our People will sadden anyone and, as you say, the sadness of the Eldar upsets the Lords Valar. Does it mean that we have to consign everything that happened in the homeland to oblivion? Finwё! Our sisters and brothers are still there! The farther I am from them, the more osten I think about them!”

“Our children won’t understand us anyway. Why bother them with these fears? Even the meaning of ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ is different to them. We, the Awoken by the Creator Eru Ilúvatar, felt the kindred differently than those born from the mother’s womb. We had awoken near the lakeside and felt affinity ith some and with the others we wanted to…”

“Have children, Finwë. But then our loved ones died at the hands of one of the Valar. Can you fathom that the Valar haven’t saved all the Children of Eru Ilúvatar? Not all the People of the Stars! They didn't even consider defending dwarves, the Children dear to Vala Aulë. Finwë, I refuse to think that Lord Aulë created the living beings capable of speaking and simply forgot about them, putting them in danger!

“You're saddened by your thoughts, Miriel!”

“And you're just afraid to think about what might sadden the masters of the land you live on! But Valinor, the Blessed Aman, is our home too! The Valar said it when they took us away from Middle-earth. Then, why must we always look around and heed, thinking if we might've hurt someone by being unhappy?”

“Miriel, please!”

“Do you want to soothe me with your caresses? Do you want more children? Do you think it's right to give Fëanáro to Vala Aulë and his helpers-Maiar?”

“What's so bad about it, love?”

“Bad? Nothing, I guess. But this way Feanaro will never know that one of the Creators of our home, our world, our Arda, might torment and kill his kin. There... In the Twilight Lands, on our sacred Cuiviénen lakeside where we had awoken under the starry vault.”

“But why are you...”

“No more words, Finwë. Please.”

The spouses fell silent again. In a gorgeous bedroom of their own palace, two beautiful naked elves didn't approach each other, for they happened to fail overcoming the strongest wall of duty to be happy and not to upset anyone, despite anything.

"I visited Valiё Vairё," finally said Miriel, putting away her black hair and covering up with an embroidered glossy silk, "I asked the Weaver of Fates about those who were left. She gave no answer. But Vairё is married to the master of the Abyss, she doesn't have to answer. I simply stepped closer to the Halls of the Dead, home of Vala Namo. Finwë, I know that our brothers and sisters are alive. Not all of them, but they're still fighting."

"They rejected our benefactors, Miriel."

Silence fell upon them again.

“I'm tired,” the queen sighed.

"You gave birth to our son and as if burned out!" The king kept to himself this desperate accusation that had once been unwarily spoken.

"I don't know how to bring up children here." The answer was the same.

The window was closed and the elven lords of the Noldor didn't notice a giant eagle flying from the sacred mountain Taniquetil where the king's Arda palace was standing.

"Vala Manwё Súlimo - to the sea. The messenger-bird, the spy-bird, was heading for the Twilight Lands to show the Lord through its all-seeing eye what was happening in the darkness where the light of the Valinor Trees was out of reach, where was only the shining of the celestial stars and the fires of war, where the week had challenged the mighty to defend their right for freedom and life itself.

***

"We will take fight on a hill!" An elf, who wasn't very tall, but strongly built, with dark hair and gray eyes, in roughly made woolen clothes and wolf's pelt on his shoulders, raised a long spear. “This time, the Orcs will fail!

“Do not forget, brothers, that even if you see your mutilated kindreds among the enemies, they are not your loved ones! They're blighted creatures who don't remember you!”

"Glory to Denethor!" Shouted the elves preparing for battle. "Glory! Glory of the Stars!"

The neverending darkness of the Twilight Lands was lit in the fires of torches, and in a moment - the flames of deadly conflagration, conjured to protect from the approaching wolves. Violet, lilac, burgundy and black needles of a gloom coniferous wood became crimson and all the shades of red.

A gray-haired elf in leather clothes and jewelry made of fish skulls looked at his sons standing at his side.

"Lord of the Sea came to me in my dream. He promised to help. Vala Ulmo said that the eagle we had seen was the messenger from Manwё, Lord of the Winds himself! He is the king of all Arda! Vala Ulmo answers to him too, as even the sea and the ocean are obedient to the winds. The king Manwё has seen our misfortunes; thus, he will take pity on us. We will take fight, but will not stand alone.”

"Nowё speaks the truth!" Agreed the crowd. "We've seen the enormous eagle too!"

"The Valar help only the obedient!"

"Yes." A white-haired elf with piercing gaze came on the hill. He had a strong beautiful armour above leather clothes. "Brothers, do you recall how we were told about hope? The Valar wanted us to give our hope to them, but now I'm your hope!"

"Yes, Amdir!" Denethor burst out laughing, joined by others. "The hope, proven by deeds, is nothing like foreign ghost Estёl!”

With fish skulls around his neck, Nowё frowned. However, as much as he worshipped Vala Ulmo, he kept silent.

"See?" White-haired warrior banged his fist on the steel armour. "Not only orcs have steel now! The curved dirty knives they take from their underground prison are breaking against our armour and shields! Right, master Telhar?”

A barrell-like light-bearded dwarf with wide nose and deep-set eyes approached the elf. Amidst beautiful, tall and well-built men of the People of the Stars, the Children of Vala Aulё looked like ridiculous disproportional short creatures dressed in oversized capes and caps. Having dainty eyebrows and thick eyelashes, the Elves never grew facial hair even in their older years, but the mountain dwellers, men and women both, sometimes happened to grow hair to such an extent that it wasn't clear from the first sight whether it was the front or the back of a dwarf.

"You're right, khulum." Telhar threatened the orcs coming from the north with his fist. "Me steel'll make our host invincible!"

The starry dusk of Middle-earth gleamed with flashes of polished metal that soared into the sky, roared thousands of voices, shouted war cries.

"Err," the dwarven smith poked Amdir. "We've ne'er fought goblins and ain't no experience on surface. Give yer orders, but don't screw our boys. I hold ye responsible for my brothers.

The elf nodded. Having heard their conversation, Denethor confirmed the readiness for a fair fight, without sacrificing ones for the sake of saving others.

"In the name of the Great Mahal!" Announced swarthy dwarven commander, calling the mountain people creator, Vala Aulë, in his own way. "Kill the scum!"

Shining armour of the bearded warrior was decorated with the cave lizard's claws and horns, making it look heavy and uncomfortable, but it didn't seem to bother the dwarf.

"Hey, friend of khulum." The smith turned to Denethor, and the elf bend over to express reverence and special attention to the war helper. "Boys and I've crafted many things, but we took this khulum's measurements." Telhar gestured toward Amdir. "While we've got some time, go try the armour. Make sure helmets and breastplates fit comfortably. We'll set the forges and fix if something's ain't right.

"Thank you, brother," Denethor smiled.

"'Tis nowt," the beard-head waved off. "Tis a shared trouble. We need to unite. Don't wanna become a six handed abomination with me head sticking out of me arse."

The crimson trees cracked under the wind, the stars flickered disturbingly, hearing a threatening rumble from afar.

"Soon." The mountain chief-warrior clenched his teeth. "Vermins are coming to their death!"

The Elves nodded and rushed to the smiths. Tired of constant attacks from the north, the Children of Eru, who had not gone to Valinor, wanted to vanquish their enemies, but before they had not known how to work with metal, until they met the Dwarves.

Now, the hope for peace became reasonable, and despite the fear of death in battle, many smiled.

- Glory to Denethor!

- In the name of the Great Mahal!

- Help and guide us, Lord Ulmo!

- Victory shall be ours!

- Hooray!

***

The only elf in Middle-earth glowing with the Valinor light returned to the hastily set hut, which, however, looked beautiful because of the wreaths of fluffy spike flowers above the entrance.

“Elvё," the woman, who appeared to be an elf at first glance, smiled at her husband. Her black hair waved magically as if it moved on its own, her starry eyes gleaming with frighteningly mesmerizing intensity. “Your warriors will be victorious. But take care of them. There are enough men to die for the greater good.”

The Elven king nidded.

“Yes, Melian," intoxicated by the spell, Maiё was convinced that he had spoken all the previous speeches himself, "my People will suffer no losses, for we will be protected by Denethor, my brother and Amdir. Our lands, our Ёglador, will not be drenched in blood.”

The Creator's Helper, who had left Valinor, tucked her curls behind her ear, shaped like a tree leaf, and pondered. The queen knew a secret that could not be known to any Child of Eru, no matter what title he held: an important conversation had recently taken place with one of those whom Melian had once served.

"This is for you. Not only you have asked for it," said through the space Valiё Vairё to her younger helper as a plea had been made to keep the People of the Stars safe from the maddened Vala, distorting everything he reached. “We decided to show mercy to the renegades who had offended the Valar by refusing to follow them and to the one who should have been loyal to her Lords. Yes, I refer to you, unfaithful helper Valiё Estё. But you and all of you who have chosen darkness shall see — everyone is entitled to forgiveness and redemption. The one you call the enemy is our brother, and he is aware of the wrongs he has done. It is not for you or your Elves to judge him. Destroy his mistakes, but don't you dare forget who in Arda is Creator and who is servant."

“Elvё,” Melian smiled, “you will protect your People.”

The silver-haired elf sank down on the skins beside his consort. The starry abyss took him, like a whirlpool, soporific and sweet. The king felt that with his wife-Ainu he could fear nothing. Any wish would come true.

***

A song burst over the battlefield. The white-haired elf, using the magic of music, surrounded by his warriors who protected him, watched proudly as the ugly enemies stumbled and floundered. Amdir’s commands could be heard from time to time. The hill to which Denethor had climbed with his archers and lances, was ablaze with a ring of fire.

“Take them alive! Alive! For the master!” The Orcs shouted, disgustingly muttering Elvish speech.

It got dark: the flaming veil was quickly trampled under their own fighters. Huge red-eyed wolfhounds, whose thick furry skins were hardly harmed by arrows, rushed forward. Hiding behind the beasts, the Orcs charged up the hill, while the others wiped off the Dwarves and Elves closest to them.

Seeing the defenders fall one by one, the warrior-singer panicked, the music faltered, and, realizing that Amdir's voice had long been lost behind the cries of his wounded comrades and the bloodthirsty creatures that were ravening from the battle, the white-haired elf raised his arms in a shout:

“Don’t kill me! I will not harm you! Mercy!”

The response was amicable, vile laughter and a repeated order to take prisoners alive for the master.

The fight continued, some were commanding to retreat, others to attack. And no one noticed the giant eagle that appeared in the sky again, like a cloud that covered the stars.

***

Slowly opening the curtains and looking out over the silvery light of the sacred Tree of Thirion, Miriel went to the bed. She had embroidered the silk linen herself, and there was not a more beautiful matrimonial bed in all Valinor.

Finwë embraced his beloved wife again, tucked into her magnificent lush hair, bit lightly at the pointed tip of her ear.

“Let us make Feanaro a gift: a little sister," the king whispered, “she will be the most adorable princess in Arda!”

“I'm tired, I'm sorry. Perhaps I should go to the Gardens of the Lord of Dreams and rest. I do not wish to sadden you and Feanoro.”

As she slipped from her husband's embrace, Miriel Terindё returned to the spinning wheel.

“Remember the songs we used to sing when we left the Twilight Lands of Endórë for Valinor?” King Noldor made a try to cheer his wife up.

“Yes, they were merry. But I hear them differently now.”

The queen looked at the magical silver of the Telperion Tree pouring through the window. Tears ran down her cheeks.

From my life

Destroying the shaky peace

Shake it off with a shaking hand

Dust and dust.

Thousands of days

Leaving again behind me

I will go after the dream

With fate in hand.

I'm leaving,

My footprints in the water

In color ripples will turn

Playful wind.

I'm leaving

A track of new victories

And the sun shoots out

The road with light.

My shabby house

Hidden in the cold rain

A little sad

But there is no place for me in it.

With the first beam

On the surface of the water barefoot

I'm leaving like a dream

Meet the dawn.

I'm leaving,

My footprints in the water

In color ripples will turn

Playful wind.

I will not be back,

Cover with fall foliage

Everything that was stored with you

Under our sky.

***

Thirion's palace stirred in an instant as, in the golden glow of the Laureline Tree, a white horse rode up to the main entrance, and a black-haired boy in plain Noldor prince clothes deftly jumped straight up the stairs.

- Father! Mother! I’ve learned something! Vala Aulё and Maia Curumo showed me how a crystal grows, how a druze is formed! Unbelievable!

From the high porch, the king's servants were observing the child, ready to help in any way they could. Noldoran Finwë himself came out to his son and took him in his arms.

“Let us go to mother!” Ordered Feanaro. “I want to give her a crystal that the Lords grew before my eyes!”

The king looked away and heaved a sigh.

“Let us return to the chambers, my ingenious heir, my Curufinwё,” he said quietly, “I need to tell you something very important.”

***

Full text https://ficbook.net/readfic/6544987

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Art by @bellabergolts

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[light-of-the-damned-stars]

Noldolante.Song of Wrath.«Light of the damned stars».vocal Александр Кэп,music Евгений Беликов .wav - SoundCloud

Listen to Noldolante.Song of Wrath.«Light of the damned stars».vocal Александр Кэп,music Евгений Беликов .wav by Asha Mount-Doom on #SoundCloud

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[light-of-the-damned-stars]

She wasn’t noticed.

In the dark illuminated by the flame absolutely every fair-haired elf seemed the ginger. The wonderful copper hair – a subject of special pride and a cause for praise —didn’t stand out from the other now. It was more terrible disaster then fading of The Two Trees of Valinor: because all sentient residents of Aman understood that the darkness had come for a short while. Valinor is the land of Ainur, Lords of the Valar and the Powers of Arda! So really, they wouldn’t bring back to life Telperion and Laurelin? It just couldn’t be.

Right, in the beginning many were scared and even desperate. However, could they actually feel fear for a long time when they and Valar were side by side? It was certainly terrible, what had been happened in Formenos. Although it was, obviously, retribution of The Doom for the disrespectful towards the Ainur. Eruhíni owed it all to Ainur, and they couldn’t show irreverence for the benefactors. Besides, Valar believed that Melkor reformed, so it was cruelly and unfairly to blame them for unpreparedness for the betrayal.

Oh, right, only sentient residents of Aman thought so. Unfortunately, Fëanáro Curufinwë had never related to them.

Nerdanel was half-listening to her husband’s speech and felt objection to every word. However, seeing as her sons agreed with Fëanáro, she experienced increasing resentment. That feeling hadn’t chosen a target yet, but it had already interfered with the living.

In addition, the strange understanding was starting to come together, that she and Fëanáro were parting ways. The first, he ran off to create Silmarils. Then she walked away because she was tired from spouse’s follies, which she couldn’t be able to control anymore. And Fëanáro didn’t call her back… But despite this, living with her parents, she hoped to come back when Fëanáro would change and become more obedient again. Well, he loved her — can’t help but loved! There was no doubt! So, he had to consider Nerdanel’s opinion. However, they went separate ways. And that time even more different: exile paved the way for miles between former spouses. That broken landscape had deep ravines of misunderstanding, anger, resentment, and arrogance. Even her sons didn’t pay attention to her. Though Nelyafinwë wrote often, but it was too dry and formal. Curufinwë, the younger with his son stopped along the way Vala Aulë, but every time was just for a bit. The twins’ letters were warm and made her to cry, but they came too rarely.

And now the sea divided the family. And that would for a long time. Nerdanel felt resentment again. Why was she always given up?! Even this fool-lover Aclariquet disappeared somewhere again!

One glad that Fëanáro vowed to come back having fought Morgoth. And the elf believed that she would convince her former husband to stay in Valinor. How could he argue with the beautiful sensual elf-woman? Kisses and affection would convince everyone of everything! Especially if there would be loving husband after long-time and heartbreaking separation from the best spouse in Arda! Because Fëanáro knew how much all men of Aman were jealous of head of the First House of the Ñoldor. And his friend Meneldil couldn’t hide admiration completely every time their meeting. No matter how that weirdo tried to look strictly, Nerdanel felt his true attitude towards herself. And it was always unmistakably. And it was always pleasurable knowledge for her.

And now… Now men had no time for female beauty. And the fault was not even darkness, which had befallen the land of Valinor, because of villainy of one Valar and carelessness of other. No, the whole thing was in Fëanáro’s speeches. Unfortunately, Fёanáro always liked to offend someone, who hadn’t done anything wrong. And then an adoring crowd listened to him. So, why did not he remember and tell everyone, what the useless Lords of the Valar were? Curufinwë himself knew better how to rule Ñoldor and, it seemed, even all Arda. And what about the family… The family needed only like army. It was true what the Second House of the Ñoldor had said. It was disappointing, very disappointing.

Nerdanel suddenly understood that she didn’t remember where she had put the brooch presented by Telperinquar. Because of it she was embarrassed. This is the symbol of the First House’s unity! Could she treat such a valuable thing so lightly? No, it wasn’t thing, it was relic.

“I am never taking this off until Fëanáro came back to me! — elf decided for herself. — The main thing is to find it. Where have I put it? Oh, right, it is in a rectangular morion box without decorations. There are only flowers, which are engraved on the edges but not painted. So, that looks very sad. Why had I put the grandson’s present in it? In any case, now I’ll have the brooch with me always, until our family becomes united again”.

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[light-of-the-damned-stars]

"Зло не может создать ничего нового, оно может лишь испортить и разрушить то, что было изобретено или создано добрыми силами" — Дж. Р. Р. Толкин.

[light-of-the-damned-stars]

https://ficbook.net/readfic/6544987

Art by @bellabergolts

“Tell me, Ainu, what Theme created us? What do Valar know about it? What does Melkor know? What do we know?”

Morifinwe grinned, Macalaure's catguts sounded as music of rain. Ambarussar broke into laughter.

“For us Ainur it’is enough to know about ourselves, about our Theme, Curufinwe,” Maya Eonwe smiled meaningfully, “and so you do about ours. The Lords have voiced a necessary Melody to elves and this’s more than all we should know.”

“And how are we, Noldor, inscribed in your polyphony?” Sliding his gaze over his father and sons, an exile became even more serious and his voice sounded menacing. “Probably other words were used but I know essence:

“Feanaro. Miriel’s son.

Nolofinwe. Noldor King’s son.

Arafinwe. Indis’ son.

 

One nation. One blood. One family.

One is the exile.

Another is the king.

Third is nobody.”

Tyelko who didn’t even show signs of life laughed, Eonwe narrowed his eyes, he say, okay, Curufinwe, be it your way.

“The exile-king-nobody, the exile-king-nobody-exile,” Maya spoke slowly at first but his speech gradually began to sound faster and faster. “The wheel of Doom spun picking up speed, and flew down a slope which with each turn is steeper, there’re more and more sharp stones on its paths, blows and crackle of breaking spokes are more and more harder but it is already impossible to stop. Now there’re only two possible ends: the wheel will withstand a frantic descent and stop at the bottom broken and miserable but having overcome everything, and thus proud, or it’ll crumble into chips on the slope and get stuck with the terrible reminder of a cruel retribution for too high opinion of oneself.

Maitimo sighingly rested his forehead on his hand.

 

“Trun,” Macalaure commented plucking the catgut.

“We’re who we’re,” Feanaro wasn’t absolutely embarrassed glaring at Ainu.

“I’m very glad for you,” Manwe’s servant smiled. “Can I go? I agree to exile, just leave me alone.”

“Ainur divided Noldor,” ignoring Eonwe’s words Curufinwe continued, “into a fortress-prison lost among rocks, which one day is destined to lose its owner, a luxurious palace that has already lost its owner and doesn’t want to receive a governor in its halls, and chambers of sideslips’ mother where the owner never was.”

“Feanaro,” Finwe tensed, “have you forgotten that I’m here and support you? I don't deserve even the smallest gratitude for not mentioning Indis in a bad way?”

The look of exiled Noldoran’s son said expressively that the second queen couldn’t claim different attitude, that heir’s love to his father didn’t cancel understanding of what was happening and insults from the betrayal of those closest, however, a request was performed and the words weren’t spoken.

 

“We’re who we’re,” Morifinwe Carnistir picked suddenly up raising Palantir over a table, “and separated by three we repeat each his own:

 

“We’ll be great again! Troubles will join us!”

“I’ll prove that I can be the first! The main thing is to retain power.”

“We’ll avenge a shame! Our time will come!”

And anyone will repeat:

 

“We’re who we’re!”

“I’m who I’m”.

“We’re who we’re”.

 

“The smooth, serene melody of Aman bliss,” Eonwe said thoughtfully as if being afraid to blur out too much, “retaining initially disturbing notes in its memory, it crashed for some of them with gong beats and drum rolls, turning into a march more like funeral than victorious one depriving forever tormented hearts of an opportunity to be happy.

Feanaro's burning eyes flashed but the First House head kept fire that was raging in his soul.

 

“You never answered, an envoy,” Curufinwe's hands squeezed a tabletop. “What do you, Ainur, know about Eldar tribe? What do you know about Aim? What do you know about Good? What do you know about Evil? You always claim that Eru hasn’t revealed much to you but this’s lie! You have chosen blind’s path but what will you do if tomorrow horror unknown hitherto falls on us? Suppose the same trouble repeats? What will you do?”

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[light-of-the-damned-stars]

Aulendil the Traitor

https://ficbook.net/readfic/6544987/22505326

Translator's here 😍💝👇

@https://chroniclerofthepast.tumblr.com

Even for Maya it was hard to define whether the images that appeared before his eyes were delusional or not. The hall — that was made of reflecting fragments — was vibrating and ringing from the inside; the underground was overflowing with heat, thus the water in the fountains was about to boil. He could not locate the reservoirs and he had to make each step cautiously to avoid falling into the hot water. It was surely not a tempting fate to end up losing the material body in such a foolish way only for the amusement of Vala.

The reflections were shattering into pieces, distorting the worldview and the image of the route to the goal. The hall was not plunged into the darkness but it was a hopeless task to find the road, being surrounded by endless glimmering.  

There was only one way to avoid getting lost amidst myriads of mirrors — to close thy eyes, trust thy own feelings. It was impossible to hide away from the Song of Creation, however, its main theme, no matter how horribly inharmonic it resounded there, was not directly related to the Giver, so it was not disturbing the process of searching for the right direction.

And there was one more indicator that was probably the foremost directing — the wondrous singing in three voices that was flowing through the darkness and the mirrors as a magical music of the light. The living crystals were crying and dreaming, hoping and getting desperate, again and again calling out for their creator, for their... father.

Who would have thought of a moveless thing as the living being? Would have seen a mute thing as an intelligent being? Only the one who could have heard better than others and the one who filled the subjects, that appeared to be lifeless, with one's own spirit.

When Maya opened his eyes and saw how the Silmarils' light beautifully transformed while being reflected by mirrors, he suddenly understood the reason why it was so hard to get  through the hall: the Giver was again unhappy with the results of the finished work. Melkor knew it but considered that it could not have been better, so criticism was inappropriate there.

'You betrayed your master — Vala Aulë,' said the Lord of the North Endore, whose voice appeared out of nowhere, 'and your family, that stayed in Valinor, while you were helping me. I am awaiting the moment when you will finally betray me also, a student of Aulë, the one whom elves could've been calling Mairon Aulendil. However, as you are openly expressing your objections, I can peacefully keep being busy with creating, being free from fear of expecting to be stabbed in the back.’

'I am not a betrayer,' Maya stopped, 'each one of us has their free will and freedom of choice within the Creator’s Plan.'

Mirrors that were surrounding them began to rhythmically tremble together as if the whole fortress laughed at the words of the Giver.

'And what does free will of yours allow you to do about me?' Melkor inquired, and Maya finally saw both the throne and the Lord.

And Silmarils.

Living crystals were excited about the quarrel between their kidnapper and his assistant. They were having fun through their heavy tears.

Whilst sitting on the pretentious throne, Vala appeared to look luxuriously, following the way of dressing at Valinorian celebrations, however, the crown of his was not adorning his head but was lying on the stand.

'Being here by my own will,' Maya bowed.

'On your knees!' Melkor ordered abruptly; and the Giver freezed in astonishment. What did happen? Was not a simple respectful greeting enough?

 Underneath the throne, two red eyes with a still glance lightened up.

'A fine specimen,' Maya thought about the beast, 'but I can create something better.'

Vala's associate, while being accompanied by unbearably loud cry of wondrous stones, got down on his knee, as it was usually done by Amaneldar when they paid their respects to their kings. This was clearly not the way the ruler wanted to see it but Maya would not agree by himself on something  more than that.

'Free will,' Melkor chuckled. 'It’s too strained up by the desires of the ones who’re beside you.'

Silmarils started to glow, and the light became slowly fading away.

'Pleased to serve, sire,' the leader of Balrogs lowly bowed, and he appeared there as if he came out of the boiling hot reservoirs.

The Giver stood up, looking at his sides. The glowing eyes from underneath the throne were being reflected even in those mirrors in which they should not have. They were moving even though they were staying at one place. Was not the wolf alone here?

'Watch over things, Summoner,' Melkor kindly smiled to his associate, who did not need the free will, 'we shall not be seen behind the Southern hills. Let the elven’s battle hymns crush the walls of our silence. Don’t let them see any reaction to their actions. A-n-y. And when their heroism will become useless, elves will turn on each other, they’ll make themselves weaker. And then we’ll attack. Until then, my Summoner, prepare the army and nurture the generation of fighters, and also watch over mines. Did the water stop coming?’

Balrog nodded while he was bowing, and he looked so satisfied as if the ended flood was his  own personal credit.

Melkor smiled even kinder than before and made a barely noticeable gesture. From the endless height, an enormous fiery-red bat flew down by flapping its wings while getting lost in darkness and light, amongst mirrors and steam that was surrounding the ceiling. The creature landed near Balrog and became an elf-like girl, though she was much curvier.

'Spread wings of yours, my dears!' the Lord waved his hands, which were covered in terrible burns, with pathos. 'Let your flight leave all the slaves in awe and make them even more obedient!'

The steam, the flame and the light — all had become one; Balrog and the bat disappeared, and after this there was only darkness reflected in mirrors.

'Willingly or not,' Melkor grinned and distinctly turned away from the Giver, 'you are in the service of Valar. As any kind of your inventions too.'

'What is all this conversation about?' Maya was puzzled.

'Do you have an intention to continue on creating, despite possessing this knowledge, former aulendil? Or are you just unable to do otherwise?'

'Yes, each one of us can't do otherwise, thus we all are here.’ Maya’s thought resounded too loudly, Melkor shook his head and then carefully put on the crown. Silmarils’ glow almost faded away, and their singing became silent.

'I don't appreciate the plan to simply sit out behind the mountains,' the Giver openly said. 'The materials which I require ain't present here.'

'Is this the only reason?'

'Well, yes,' Maya replied, whilst he was looking into the eyes under the throne.

Who could command this creature? Was it able to memorise the given task and follow the will of its owner even far away beyond the throne room? Was this ability of need? And what was the way to develop it, if there was no possibility to leave the Northern Lands?

Questions were of a great number and the answers were to be found, though it was rightly to be pleased with the first successes that had been already achieved.

Note:

At this part of the story, the word aulendil is used not as a name but means ‘the student (friend) of Aula’.

It’s similar to the way of using the word valandil as a ‘friend of Valar’.

For Noldor in Endore it’s almost a swearing word. ;)

Art by ~Rindelin

#fanfic #silmarillion #the silmarillion #tolkien #melkor #morgoth #angbang #utumno #sauron #annatar

[light-of-the-damned-stars]

The Exchange of Courtesies

https://ficbook.net/readfic/6544987/22311870

Translator's here 💝👇

'If you think that we have nothing to discuss, you're seriously mistaken.'

 'Words have spreaded as shatters of the former glory of Ñoldor people in the hall, and, alas, no one would be able to to collect all of them now.'

'Are you allowing yourself to say these bold words of yours whilst being so confident in my generosity and forbearance?'

'You depend on me, thus you'll have to forbeare quirks of mine. Sadly, I suppose.'

'You can't even imagine to what extent.'

Two Ñoldor were not looking at each other whilst pointedly looking only at patterns on columns and at the view behind windows. Two voices: one that was faint and husky and another one which was beautifully flowing, — were appearing one by one after each pause.  

'Aren't you afraid to be at one place with me without any guards?' Maedhros snarkily remarked whilst he was approaching the painting of Narnis.

'The necessity of this conversation without witnesses is outweighing my possible irrational fears,' Ñolofinwë was still looking at nothing happening behind the window when he indifferently replied.

'However, everyone knows that I'm here. What's the point in secretiveness?'

'Yes, everyone knows that you're here. Don’t you have a clue what is the reason?'

Maedhros gave no answer while he was still looking at the picture, examining the painting of his daughter and then the elegant frame.

'I want those who are loyal to me to know the person on whom they’ll take revenge after my death,' the king explained.

'It's very presumptuous to proclaim that there’ll be anyone who would like to risk their life for a deadman,' Fëanarion's voice unpleasantly changed.

'For the one who is alive — just a few will make a heroic act either,' High Ñoldoran still was not looking at his nephew, 'yet, heroes exist.'

'Alright,' Maedhros laughed with malice when he looked upon Finwë's portrait, 'I'll keep in mind that I need to secretly kill you and avoid bragging about how I freed the people of Ñoldor from shameful authority of usurper.'

'And what kind of authority do betrayers and brother killers deserve?' Ñolofinwë innocently wondered while deadly staring at one and the same point somewhere near the fountain at the square.

'I would've asked why do you, such a bright shiny ruler, need these disgusting people who possess no honour,' Fëanor was again mocking him, 'who are stained with the blood of innocents and who rejected wondrous Valar. However, the answer is clear for me.'

For the first time, during this painfully long and tense conversation, the king turned to the one with whom he spoke. Ñoldoran's eyes were blazing with hate, though he was smiling.

'You're wrong,' Ñolofinwë said in an unnatural voice. 'Again. And it's nor the first nor the last time. You ain't right if you think that I have so much lust for power, that I am eager to rule over anyone, as long as I could conquer more lands. You might not believe me though you more than anyone else know the value of a manuscript, and I'm willing to make one of those for you. Right now.’

High Ñoldoran seated himself at the table and smarmily straightened paper by pretentiously pressing its edges with copper soldiers to the table; he leisurely put a beautiful quill, that was shining with blue and green, in ink and started to slowly write tenguas along with reading out loud what he has written.  

'So you want to tell me,' Maedhros's lips that were crossed by almost invisible scars stretched his mouth corners in a smile though the upper part of his face remained emotionless, 'that you're not going to claim Morgoth's lands after winning? What an interesting state of affairs.'

'You'll be able to live there and name yourself as you would like,' Ñolofinwë explained calmly.

'Dor-Daedeloth, the Land of Fear and Terror, will obtain a new ruler,' Fëanorian came extremely closely and put his hands, one of which was a real hand and another — a mechanical one, even though they both looked identical in gloves, on the table, 'the Lord who is servant of High Ñoldoran. Are you still trying to convince me that lands of Morgoth won't become yours?'

'Are you so sure that I need the North domain, behind the Iron Mountains?'

'I guess, no. However, by widening borders of your domain on the world map you won't be the second by size of kingdoms in Beleriand anymore.'

High Ñoldoran looked up with a tired glance.

'Aren't you capable of speaking with me nicely?' he asked his nephew. 'Maybe, you could at least try?'

'Try to force me,' Maedhros was still terrifyingly teething, and Ñolofinwë shook his head.

'That is why, Finwë The Third,' Ñoldoran signed, 'I wanted to talk with you in person: were any witnesses present here, I would've had to force you to be polite and respectful with your king. But when we are being heard by no one, the main thing for me is that you learn what is necessary for you but how you will respond to this will stay between us.'

'Or, you are just ashamed to say in front of witnesses that you want to send me and other war heroes along with their families to the uninhabitable lands.'

The glance of the ruler expressed the sincerest confusion.

'It was only a poor joke, Maedhros,' Ñolofinwë explained even calmer than before. 'You were telling me that Morgoth's army will be crushed in the Battle Under the Stars,however, yet after ten years…' Ñoldoran laughed with sadness. 'One day, I will get used to counting years by the calendar of new luminaries but now there’s no time for it. Just imagine, Maedhros, within just ten years these beasts multiplied behind the Iron Hills to that extent that they wiped out Kano's army and flooded the North of Beleriand. You think that something like this can possibly happen on the hollow frozen ground?’

'Morgoth is one of Valar,' Fëanorian reminded this as soon as he noticed that the conversation was getting uncomfortable.

'Manve was saying that Morgoth can't create life by his own will: he requires the use of existing shapes and only then can he change them. Distort them. Turn them evil. He can't create an horde of Orcs and provision for them out of nothing.'

'For this, Morgoth needs help from Mother of Plants and Animals, am I right?' Maedhros asked a question whilst enjoying the effect that he made: Ñolofinwë became really scared and could not pull himself together. 'You don't like the thought of us battling against all of Valar, do you?'

'But you, I see, are entertained by your own exclusive braveness,' Ñoldoran gathered the courage. 'However, if you're right and Morgoth is only the tip of the spear that directed the whole Aynur army at us, then what's the point of the siege? If we’re lacking resources...'

'Valar aren't almighty,' Fëanorian repeated his father's words, 'otherwise, Orcs wouldn't settle down outside of the lands of their precious protector.'

'Or they're as insane and lusty for power as I'm,' Ñolofinwë smiled widely, 'so they're also drawing extensive non-existent borders on maps. But we got distracted. If the siege won't bring us victory through starving them out, what'll be your plan, the future king of the most dreadful lands of Arda?’

'We'll be defending the borders whilst at the same time working on creating weapons that can crush mountains. There'll be no other way to reach Morgoth.'

'We'll be wasting time, and Orcs will again multiply in numbers.'

 Maedhros nodded though in truth he was concerned by another matter: Himring’s Lord imagined how he would be walking through burned down by war, soaked in blood and covered with corpses of his friends and enemies — Land of Fear that would be devastated and dead and uslovno belonging to him. He realised that it was not the future that could have been a goal worth to be earned by fighting.

'Brothers of yours aren't joining the siege?' High Ñoldoran asked the question at the most right time. 'Are they withholding their armies until your victory? What is the reason, in your opinion?'

'Silmarils are three in number but there are seven of us,' the unwanted thought reminded him again about the inaction of his family during the capture.

'I would've advised you to insist on them joining your army,' Ñolofinwë continued to speak whilst looking in the eyes of his nephew. 'And then, on leaving them at the most dangerous frontiers. Though, of course, only wicked usurpers will do this, whereas honest followers of fratricide will never stoop to such plots.'

Maedhros made a sound of annoyance but remained silent and just walked away from the table.

‘Is the exchange of courtesies finished?’ High Ñoldoran asked. ‘Will we be able to discuss our plans and prepare lists of required resources in presence of advisers?’

'Perhaps,' Fëanoring responded while glancing again at the portrait of his daughter, 'Ard-Galen needs me, and the sooner I’ll return it’ll be better.'

Arts by ~Letavia Gayle

#elves #fanfic #noldor #silmarillion #the silmarillion #tolkien #maedhros #fingolfin #hithlum

[light-of-the-damned-stars]

Graceful white hands slid over a slender body passing over seductive lines of a boob being rounded and large by elves’ standards, touching nipples, descending into alluring hollows, sliding down to a thin waist and lower to wide hips, passing to bulging elastic buttocks. Supple fingers grabbed the thinnest fabric carefully but persistently, straightening a transparent dress stretched on the chiselled body and having right-ordered punch work and delicate applique. Fire-colored hair scattered in unbridled curls along the inviting curve of a back, hiding a deep neckline for some time to come.

When Nerdanel, a beloved daughter of master Mahtan, the most diligent Vala Aule’s follower, was growing up, there was the change of fashion epochs in Aman in “decorating oneself”, primarily thanks to Miriel Therinde, the first Noldor queene. An expert with the needle spoke extremely harshly about any canvases without patterns, be it curtains, tablecloths, napkins or bed linen, arguing that fabric had right to be beautiful and there is nothing to justify your laziness with silly words about elegance. “Silk and velvet make homes cozy, highlighting uniqueness and individuality of each home! Embroidered canvases are beautiful and sophisticated! You can and should wear them on yourself!” At first, Aman elves didn’t use clothes because Valinor was safe and warm unlike the Cuivienen shores, there was no need to protect a body and it was possible not to spoil their pristine beauty with ineptly-curried animal skins. Of course, it was required to cover especially vulnerable skin areas and wear shoes for working in mountains or smithy, during hunting or long-distance travels but the elves who weren’t engaged in such matters rejoiced at an opportunity to walk naked and chased themselves only with elegant jewelers’ creations. “Skillfully embroidered fabric isn’t worse than stones and metal!” Miriel more and more often repeated these words to her followers and subjects. “And they who can’t create beauty with a thread and doesn’t want to improve skills let them go naked but doesn’t claim in a matter-of-course manner! This isn’t correct but indicative.” Noldoran Finwe supported his queen’s opinion unexpectedly eagerly, assuring with a languid smile that “it’s very interesting for a man to move graceful curtains behind which a beloved desirable woman is hiding.” Styles of “the curtains” began to change, the clothes covered the body more and more, emphasizing its beauty and creating atmosphere of mystery. Nerdanel grew up and saw how some women wear only jeweleries, others hid only boobs and hips with the clothes and still others even covered their hair becoming like flowers with many thinnest petals. It looked marvelously beautiful in any case but man’s reaction was main for the young daughter of the famous master of copper in choosing her image. Seeing how elves’s views change when the fiery-haired beauty appeared became a favorite pastime, Nerdanel dreamed that many would fall in love with her and she would choose the best one and drive him crazy. Let the rest suffer from understanding that they aren’t worthy of the most desired her-elf of Valinor! “No wonder,” young golden-haired Vanyar maidens turned up their noses, “if you don’t shine with beauty of your face, you have to bare your boobs. Poor girl!” “She's probably wise,” Noldier sneered. “Modesty decorates the best!" Teleri she-elves poured their lips. Nerdanel didn’t notice them defiantly and caught with special delight Aman men’s admiring glances. Unfortunate victims couldn’t sometimes take their eyes off the mockingly leerily located jewelries on fabric of a dress which seems to be missing at all. The clothes became more and more accustomed, an attitude to nudity changed, new generations didn’t remember Cuivienen and almost no one was naked even to the waist including men, however, Mahtan's daughter was one of those whose desire to decorate themselves with the clothes didn’t develop into embarrassment of showing the body.

https://ficbook.net/readfic/6544987 Miriel by @bellabergolts

#elves #noldor #fanfic #silmarillion #the silmarillion #tolkien #valinor #miriel #miriel therinde #nerdanel