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Passing through an English country village, Maglor encounters a grieving mother struggling to come to terms with a deep injustice.
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An autumn night in Imladris. Elrohir and Tindómion speak. Mentions of slash, of violence, therefore rated mature.
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Shoutbox

Spiced Wine
08/21/18 10:24 am
I am nit surprised, Narya, they were wonderful ideas
Narya
08/20/18 11:58 pm
It's literally just for the exchange, there's no expectation on anyone else to write anything for it :) I'll leave it up though. I gave myself some ideas when I was writing it, tbh...
Spiced Wine
08/20/18 10:49 pm
I don’t think yours are ‘out there’, just quite deep :)
Spiced Wine
08/20/18 10:49 pm
Or if I am over with her and the internet there is often spotty
Spiced Wine
08/20/18 10:47 pm
But at some point. Sometimes I write in the hospital if I am waiting for Mum, but often I can’t get internet so I just do some writing
Spiced Wine
08/20/18 10:47 pm
Well, if you keep your letter up, Narya, I can look at it, and see if I get any ideas, I don’t mean for this exchange
Narya
08/20/18 10:00 pm
And in all fairness, the only obligation on the writer/artist is to produce something with the characters matched on and avoid DNWs, not to follow the prompts and worldbuilding tags.
Narya
08/20/18 09:59 pm
Some of mine are a bit out there, I doubt I'll get matched on any of the obscure stuff.
Narya
08/20/18 09:56 pm
Oh gosh, Spiced, I wouldn't expect you to <3 you have so much going on! Although it was your wonderful Coldagnir who prompted me to ask for original Balrog characters ;)
Spiced Wine
08/20/18 09:30 pm
Your requests were interesting though, Narya, a bit beyond me, though!
Shout Archive


Hithlain by Himring

[Reviews - 1]   Printer
Table of Contents

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Story notes:

B2MeM 2012 prompts: I-18: rope-making (card: Talents and Skills); hill (card: Landscape)

Chapter notes:

The story uses Galadriel's earlier (Quenya) name Artanis.



They depart from Doriath laden with gifts and supplies.

‘What is this?’, Artanis asks, picking up the coils of silvery-grey rope and weighing them in her hands. Soft, but strong, she thinks, liking the feel of it in her hands, the texture.

‘You are interested in rope?’, Celeborn asks in return. He should not have been surprised. She seems interested in anything and everything, this young Noldo.

‘My cousins in Alqualonde are skilled in all kinds of rope-making’, she answers. ‘Hawsers for their ships, painters for their boats... But I have not seen this material before.’

‘It is hithlain’, Celeborn tells her. ‘I could show you how it is made, if you were not about to leave...’

‘I will just have to come back then, won’t I?’, she says and smiles at him.

***

The silvery-grey rope slithers down the rock face, its final coil pooling at his feet.

His wife’s face appears up above, haloed in sunlit hair against blue sky.

‘Come on up’, she calls out cheerfully. ‘I can see Mirrormere from here!’

He shakes his head a little ruefully. ‘Noldo’, he grumbles to himself affectionately, takes firm hold of the rope and begins to climb.

Chapter end notes:

First part based on the departure from Lorien in FOTR, second part more loosely on the descent from the Emyn Muil in TT. (Also, obviously, based on the Silmarillion.)

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