fic: Burdens
Dec. 1st, 2005 10:56 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
allie-meril.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
silwritersguildWhat a coincidence that the December challenge should fit my latest efforts in Silmfic-dom!
Title: Burdens (Wondering, A Necklace, Coimas, A Book, A Sword and a Ring)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
allie_meril
Rating: General
Warnings: Angst
Genre: Drama/Tragedy
Summary: The Noldorin exiles carry many things with them on their way to Arda. (Drabble series.)
Wondering
I wonder what everyone else is carrying.
I carry objects both beloved and necessary: fresh clothes, a supply of food, and a few memorable trinkets. Some of my burdens are invisible: my mother’s tears, my pride, anger, frustration...
In my dreams, I awake in my bed in Tirion, with Laurelin’s light spilling through my window and plans to ride with my cousins in the afternoon... But then I feel jagged shards of ice beneath my aching body, my face parched by the brutal winds, and I know that this is now, this is reality.
Sometimes I feel like collapsing beneath the weight of my memories, my pack, my guilt (always, always the guilt)...
In whispers we talk of the cold, our pains, and wishes for warmth and a good feast. Occasionally, someone will start humming a wordless tune, which is silenced by the howling wind.
We never speak of the things that haunt our dreams: the blood on our hands and our blades, on the sand... If I meet someone’s gaze by chance, we both look down. We carry our burdens alone, in silence; we do not want to see our shames reflected.
I wonder what everyone else is carrying.
A Necklace
Élin carries a precious necklace: an opal set in smooth silver. It was a gift from my mother, she whispers. Ammë gave it to me when I came of age, and I will give it to our daughter when she is grown. Her eyes are sad as she glances up at her husband, twisting her hands nervously in the folds of her azure cloak.
He tries to meet her eyes, but his face tightens with shame and he cannot.
Instead, he clings to her hand.
What she does not say (but they both know) is that her mother was Telerin.
Coimas
By the fifth week on the ice, the food begins to spoil. Elendur carries a small supply of coimas from the palace kitchens, and some of the others begin to demand a share.
He denies them all. I must take care of my own, he snaps in response to bitter accusations of selfishness. They mutter rebelliously, but leave him alone.
What Elendur does not say is that his father and beautiful wife were killed by slender silver arrows on the pearly shores of Alqualondë, so he looks after his two children with special care; they are all he has left.
A Book
Írimë carries a thin book, no more than a hundred pages long.
She had lived in Formenos, scribing the writings of Fëanáro and his sons with wide-eyed fervor. Her days were filled with the task of learning all she could, and (from afar) shyly admiring the younger Ambarussa.
She dreams of teaching the history of their people to the young ones, and with the help of this slender volume, she will instruct them in reading and writing.
Tinco, parma, calma, quesse... With her hands on the ship’s railing, she looks towards the sky, breathing in the wild airs of Arda.
A Sword and a Ring
Arantur carries a sword that sits awkwardly at his hip, interfering with his loose, easy stride. It is a beautiful piece of weaponry: slender and fair, with a string of engraved runes saying simply Arantur, son of Rilyatur. He looks upon the runes often, polishing the curved strokes that spell out "son of Rilyatur" with special care.
His sister notices, but says nothing. Her left hand bears a thin silver ring, whose twin has been left behind on the hand of her love; no one ever hears her weep.
They promise each other: new lives in Arda, and no regrets.
Notes
Coimas: Coimas is the Quenya word for lembas.
A Book: Tinco, parma, calma, quesse - letters in the Fëanorian Tengwar system.
Oh, and I'll probably end up writing more of these. :D
Title: Burdens (Wondering, A Necklace, Coimas, A Book, A Sword and a Ring)
Author:
allie_merilRating: General
Warnings: Angst
Genre: Drama/Tragedy
Summary: The Noldorin exiles carry many things with them on their way to Arda. (Drabble series.)
Wondering
I wonder what everyone else is carrying.
I carry objects both beloved and necessary: fresh clothes, a supply of food, and a few memorable trinkets. Some of my burdens are invisible: my mother’s tears, my pride, anger, frustration...
In my dreams, I awake in my bed in Tirion, with Laurelin’s light spilling through my window and plans to ride with my cousins in the afternoon... But then I feel jagged shards of ice beneath my aching body, my face parched by the brutal winds, and I know that this is now, this is reality.
Sometimes I feel like collapsing beneath the weight of my memories, my pack, my guilt (always, always the guilt)...
In whispers we talk of the cold, our pains, and wishes for warmth and a good feast. Occasionally, someone will start humming a wordless tune, which is silenced by the howling wind.
We never speak of the things that haunt our dreams: the blood on our hands and our blades, on the sand... If I meet someone’s gaze by chance, we both look down. We carry our burdens alone, in silence; we do not want to see our shames reflected.
I wonder what everyone else is carrying.
A Necklace
Élin carries a precious necklace: an opal set in smooth silver. It was a gift from my mother, she whispers. Ammë gave it to me when I came of age, and I will give it to our daughter when she is grown. Her eyes are sad as she glances up at her husband, twisting her hands nervously in the folds of her azure cloak.
He tries to meet her eyes, but his face tightens with shame and he cannot.
Instead, he clings to her hand.
What she does not say (but they both know) is that her mother was Telerin.
Coimas
By the fifth week on the ice, the food begins to spoil. Elendur carries a small supply of coimas from the palace kitchens, and some of the others begin to demand a share.
He denies them all. I must take care of my own, he snaps in response to bitter accusations of selfishness. They mutter rebelliously, but leave him alone.
What Elendur does not say is that his father and beautiful wife were killed by slender silver arrows on the pearly shores of Alqualondë, so he looks after his two children with special care; they are all he has left.
A Book
Írimë carries a thin book, no more than a hundred pages long.
She had lived in Formenos, scribing the writings of Fëanáro and his sons with wide-eyed fervor. Her days were filled with the task of learning all she could, and (from afar) shyly admiring the younger Ambarussa.
She dreams of teaching the history of their people to the young ones, and with the help of this slender volume, she will instruct them in reading and writing.
Tinco, parma, calma, quesse... With her hands on the ship’s railing, she looks towards the sky, breathing in the wild airs of Arda.
A Sword and a Ring
Arantur carries a sword that sits awkwardly at his hip, interfering with his loose, easy stride. It is a beautiful piece of weaponry: slender and fair, with a string of engraved runes saying simply Arantur, son of Rilyatur. He looks upon the runes often, polishing the curved strokes that spell out "son of Rilyatur" with special care.
His sister notices, but says nothing. Her left hand bears a thin silver ring, whose twin has been left behind on the hand of her love; no one ever hears her weep.
They promise each other: new lives in Arda, and no regrets.
Notes
Coimas: Coimas is the Quenya word for lembas.
A Book: Tinco, parma, calma, quesse - letters in the Fëanorian Tengwar system.
Oh, and I'll probably end up writing more of these. :D
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