Now that I have finally read ziggy's amazing story I could also enjoy this lovely snippet. It took me right back into her universe. And how awesome, is it that you guys can use each other's characters so easily! It's a delight to read!
Thank you so much :) It was a delight to write nd I'm so glad you enjoyed reading it.
I do allow people to write my OC's, yes, although it pleases me when they obviously understand them, which sometimes doesn't happen, but Ziggy and Narya definitely do :) I love reading them
Well...You know how I feel about Tindomion, Spiced! No need to say anything there.
*'Istelion,' Elrohir said.
So few called him that name, the name Gil galad had given him under a starlit sky so long ago.
"Silver Light. It is an old word. I have only heard it once, from a Loremaster who was of Doriath. Thine eyes. I was wondering what epesse would suit thee. Istelion, son of Silver Light. Since Fanari named thee for the time thou wert born, when the stars fade but Earendil still shines, that seems fitting. Wilt thou have this name of me, my friend?"*
Beautiful. I remember. Memory for the elves must be both a blessing and a curse at times. Or maybe all the time. More so for Tindomion. Remembering a beautiful moment between him and Gil and then reminded that he is dead and the manner in which he died. *shakes head sadly* :(
I loved this:
*Tall, slim, always perilous, Elrohir strode into the chamber. He was in black, the mane of black hair caught up. Tindomion never said so to him, but whatever alchemy of blood had come through the twins breeding, they looked Finweion to the bone. In the dreams he shared through his father, lost, gone, yet alive somewhere in the world, Tindomion had seen the House of Finwe and its magnificent, doomed scions. The shape of the face, the high, sweeping cheekbones, the straight nose and scroll of a mouth, that tall, arrogant carriage - all Finweion. And sometimes, heartbreakingly, a turn of expression brought Gil galad out of the dark.*
Not many writers mention Elrohir and Elladan's heritage. And so its easily forgotten or obscured. I mean its truly mind boggling, their legacy. Even I have fallen victim to this at times. But I simply adore that they are connected to the House of Finwe. :)
I just re-read this and...Well...I think I have a bit of an obsession with the House of Finwe. What's new. Lol.
Truly a wonderful chapter.
Author's Response: Thank you, Gabriel :)
I think, from LOTR, that it was Eärendil and their ancestress Lúthien who was celebrated in Imladris, at least more than their conexion to the House of Finwë (as Bilbo sang the song Eärendil was a mariner, that tarried in Arvernien, etc ) but through Galadriel and of course Eärendil they were doubly Finwëion. And yes, I believe I also have the same obsession ;0. Thank you so much for reading and commenting.
What plot point was that?
Ha- nice try!!
Author's Response: Lol, sorry, Ziggy ;)
I am so happy. Perfect timing to give me an insoght into Tindomion and beautiful writing as always.
This lovely image is so evocative firstly of Celebrian's shade, and then the imminence of the War that is coming:
A few leaves, early fallen, whispered across the balcony like the ghost of a woman’s skirts in the night. To the East, the shaggy pine forests rose toward the bare peaks of the Towers of Mist. On the highest, the first snows had already fallen. The last sun painted them an ominous red.
The lesser Ring is of course, fascinating -how Tindomion and his Feanorian blood, so hot, so true, is tempted by the promises of Sauron. ( I need to read this again- it will be brilliant later on in Where the Shadows lie- when ...oops- almost gave away a crucial plot point!!) I love the complexity of Tindomion, his conflicted love-hate-feanorian blood that makes him passionate and dangerous and good and kind all at the same time. It's why I am in love with him:)
I love this image of Elrohir:After Celebrían’s departure, something had broken in Elrohir, but it was not a break that weakened him, rather it was like a crack in the earth releasing lava from its fuming heart.
and this:The shape of the face, the high, sweeping cheekbones, the straight nose and scroll of the mouth, that tall, arrogant carriage — all Finwëion. And sometimes, heartbreakingly, a turn or expression brought Gil-galad out of the Dark.But this discussion of lust and sex and violence is so deeply interesting and Elrohir really needs to hear this- but I feel he doesn't. He is so deep in his own self-hate
‘But your deeds are not ignoble,’ Istelion,’ Elrohir said as if determined that Tindómion should think ill of him.
and this lovely image of tender kindliness, even in the shock of the admission- from both of them ‘Even..rape?’ Elrohir whispered, eyes closed.
It was Tindómion who flinched then. He said, dry-mounthed, ‘Even so.’
There was silence. The wind flurried along the balcony; the drapes billowed inward, and the flames leapt, whispering to one another in a language as old as the world. Slowly, Elrohir went to his knees, and Tindómion went with him. ‘Elrohir, I wish you would unburden yourself, I wish —‘
‘I cannot.’ Almost inaudible, inflexible as iron.
Even Tindomion's reaching out, his understanding and sharing -is understood and accepted by Elrohir with regard to Tindomion, but he cannot accept it of himself. I love the way you have written this- it is absolutely Elrohir. And even Tindomion's kindness, his acceptance of Elrohir's enjoyment of the whipping, does nothing to assuage his self-loathing (of course!) I will have to include an encounter between Haldir and Tindomion now- oooh- just had a wonderful scene emerge!
This image I found particularly moving: Elrohir caught him in a hard embrace. Their hearts beat in thunderous tattoo.
‘I do not want you to lose hope,’ Tindómion murmured. ‘or hate yourself.’
Elrohir’s fingers dug convulsively into his back. His breath hissed in his throat. ‘What hope is there,’ he demanded, ‘for us? And how do you find something to hold on to?’
‘I do not have hope.’ Tindómion moved back to look into those flaming grey eyes. ‘That died in Mordor. There is no-one waiting for me in the West, Elrohir. The Oath, and the Valar have ensured the Doom played out to the bitterest end. No pity, no mercy. All I love now is here.
It unites them in their sorrow, but emphasises their differences too- for Elrohir is wounded psychologically and can be healed. But Tindomion is in mourning. And that can never end. I found that deeply affecting. He is so generous and noble, Tindomion. He wishes to heal and help Elrohir and exposes his own vlunerability knowing that he can never change that.
A beautiful scene, Spiced. I am so happy to have this! Thank you. Perfect timing as well as I am writing Tindomion right now and have some addtional layers to add, to give the piece a bit more depth. xx
Author's Response: Aww, thank you so much, I am so very pleased you liked it!
I am afraid you’re right though, that nothing Tindómion says can reach Elrohir, sunk so deep into his self-loathing, it will take quite someone else to do that! But Tindómion does care so much, and feels so helpless. But, no, Elrohir will not hear, he’s not even on the path to healing, yet. (Although thank goodness he is at time of writing!)
Yes, the One would definitely have tempted him, like the others, and I’m sure it would be a case of, ‘Oh, gods, not this s%$t again!’ But then he saw Sauron kill Gil-galad, and must know Sauron could not bring him back, that he really does not have that power.. Still, it would have been pretty awful, the way you wrote it affecting the others.
Also, Haldir, Tindómion does *not* like him at all, and even less now! He’s not shocked, (clearly he does not care at all about promiscuity) he just think Haldir is a sleaze-bag :D and handled Elrohir very wrongly. (Which he did, Elrohir is (or was) too damaged to be played with like that).
Oh, well, I am glad that this was useful, and what plot point was that, that you so nearly gave away? ;)
A few leaves, early fallen, whispered across the balcony like the ghost of a woman’s skirts in the night.
Ooh, gorgeous image. I've been writing Autumn today too - suddenly it feels like time for it.
All of them had seen the Ring glowing hot, poisonous gold, on Sauron’s armoured hand as he came from Barad-dûr on that last, terrible day of battle. The metal seemed to warp the air about it as had that other ring, ‘prentice work, in Ost-in-Edhil...
Oh, fabulous again. "Hot, poisonous gold" - wonderful. I sobbed a little at that callback to Gil giving Tindomion his epessë, too.
His conversation with Elrohir about the darker side of lust and the need for pain is beautiful. This, though, had my heart soaring:
‘I called thee friend, and so you are, and kin, too.’
And the ending was perfect:
‘And, though your father would disagree, and Mithrandir also, I think that sometimes we need a touch of darkness to fight the Dark.’
There was a howl in the chimney; the logs shed sparks. Elrohir said, ‘The wind has changed.’
‘Yes,’ Tindómion agreed. ‘It blows now from the East.’
Perfect, wonderful autumnal tale, and a hybrid of two of my favourite 'verses. What's not to love?
Author's Response: Yes, it does feel a bit autumnal, I was not actually feeling it though, until I had to look up the date when Elrond sent out Glorfindel and other High Lords of Imladris out. Now I am definitely feeling autumnal! And your story certainly enforced it.
Thank you so much Narya, I am so glad you liked this little hybrid! Thank you for commenting, too :)