young Feanor ficlet, take 2

[martal0712.livejournal.com]

Hey guys,

Here is a new draft of the young Feanor drabble I posted last night. This one is 150 words.

The original version, a true drabble, is available at http://martal0712.livejournal.com/29178.html . Rhapsody and Tehta identified many things that I hadn't thought of before. I'm interested in your opinion specifically: have I addressed your concerns?

Any other concrit is welcome as well.

Sand and Flame

Fëanor paced down the shore, skipping pebbles across the lake. Indis, that damnable sycophant, had been kind enough. What did she know of any craft but flattery? His master had granted him a rare smile, even Father had praised it. A fine first cutting.

He saw past their cosseting words. The script was wobbly, a humiliation, but they would not allow him to destroy it. Crystal was Aulë's gift; who was he to reduce it to shards?

Plunk. His stone sank straight away. He sighed in frustration, took another step, and... he stopped. The sand rustled under his boot. The sound was not new to him, but the idea of using them was. Those grains were small but strong. Would fire meld them together and make something large enough to etch?

He scooped it up and ran to the forges. What he created himself, he could destroy whenever he wanted.

Comments

[tehta.livejournal.com]

You know, I am not sure you want the plunks. They might be helpful if you were trying to break up a long inner monologue, but this drabble-and-a-half is short enough without them. Also, in the following sequence:

Fëanor threw another stone into the lake. Plunk. It sank straight away.

the first sentence serves no particular purpose, since you've already said he's pelting stones into a lake, and the final sentence would make more sense if he was skipping the stones or something, because otherwise there's nothing unexpected about the stone sinking straight away. In fact, it seems a bit odd for F to specifically notice that it does.

Also... I've been thinking about this, and I am pretty sure that sand, or at least quartz, is *harder* than glass. So I guess the real problem with it is really size. Finally, you no longer explain that F had been carving in crystal, and it's not clear from the context.

Changes I like: "What did she know of any craft but flattery?" is a nice addition, which says much about F's attitude to Indis, and the mention of a desire to destroy *Aule's gift* hints at F's future rebellion.

[martal0712.livejournal.com]

Hi Tehta,

Thanks for taking the time to reply again. I really appreciate you pushing me.

the "plunk"s

You're right, they were too much. I have removed the first and reworked a little what is happening. The idea is that as Feanor thinks about his family, he gets madder and does not mena for the stone to not skip. I think having the one plunk there might work, but if you disagree I'm sure I can take it out and use the word elsewhere.

sand being harder than glass

Thanks for pointing that out. I have so little experience with this kind of thing, never having handled a lot of sand (I'm more a mountain than a beach girl), but I think you're right. I've reworded to address this problem, I hope.

crystal

You say "you no longer explain that F had been carving in crystal". But I do mention that "Crystal was Aulë's gift; who was he to reduce it to shards?" which I hoped would make it clear that Feanor had been working with crystal. Do you have any suggestions for how I can make this clearer?

Glad you liked the stuff about Indis! I think Finwe would be looking for a queen, someone who could bear children and help him diplomatically in his work governing the Noldor - and that type of person would seem very fickle to an artist who cared more for his craft than anything else.

And glad the bit about Aule worked for you as well. In the back of my mind that was why Feanor wasn't allowed to destroy the carving. Crystal certainly wouldn't be in short supply, but if it was seen as being a particular gift to the craftsman by the gods it would be irreverent of them to destroy it.

Btw - I am moving this weekend so if you reply and I don't get around to it in the next six or so hours I won't be able to reply until Monday afternoon.

[dawn_felagund]

Beautiful, Marta! I'm fond of the discipline that the drabble requires (after you encouraged me to keep trimming down to 100 words! :^P) but I actually like the second version much better. You capture a lot about Feanor--and his relationship with his teachers and his family--in these few words. My only (teensy) concrit is the sound of sand "crackling"; this word doesn't particularly evoke (for me) the sound of sand beneath a boot. It seems to imply (by some definitions) a cracking or breaking, which does not hold with the notion of being strong. But this could just be my own admittedly picky preference, and it really does not mar what is otherwise a beautiful drabble.

[martal0712.livejournal.com]

Hi Dawn! Glad you liked this.

the sond of sand "crackling"

Yeah, I wasn't happy about that but wasn't sure what else I could say. I now have "rustled", is that any better? Otherwise, do you have a suggestion? I'm a bit out of ideas. ;-)

[dawn_felagund]

Ai, been there, when I stare at a word or sentence for too long and nothing sounds right anymore!

For me, the experience of sand beneath hard-soled shoes is a gritting/grinding/grating sound. I don't know if this is what you are also hearing when you think of this image, but it seems to evoke more the slightly unpleasant sound (and sensation) of two hard particles moving against one another and neither giving in. I hope this helps! :)