Three Drabbles

[isil-elensar.livejournal.com]

Originally written for a there_n_back challenge, subject: Feanor, I decided to share them here as well. They are also posted to OSA, and will likely go up at FF.net too. Plus a couple other places... if I'm feeling up for dealing with such stuff. ;-)

Title: Of The Silmarils
Author: Isil Elensar
Charater(s): Feanor, but the Silmarils too, if you count them as living... :-)
Warnings: none
Rating: entirely "G"
Archive: sure
Disclaimer: Tolkien's, not mine. I was only playing in the sandbox for a little bit.

Summary: Three drabbles featuring Feanor and the Silmarils. (I really don't have anything better than that...)


Creation in Secret

They were all before him, three rough jewels yet unfashioned, but of a quality that out-matched any others. All were clear and unmarred, sparkling with brilliance in the fire light of his forge. He touched each one with light, reverent, fingers, daring to think that these jewels, once fashioned beautifully, could shine even brighter with the light of the Trees. He would be the creator of the jewels, and even the Valar would marvel at their glory. The thought took hold, becoming more than a distinct possibility. Grabbing familiar tools, Feanor took the first gem aside and began to work.

~*~*~

The Silmarils

“They shine like the stars,” the awed voice said beside him. Feanor nodded and acknowledged the statement.

Indeed, his creation did shine like Varda’s stars, but perhaps a little brighter. Pride filled his heart that he alone had made these glorious jewels, now called Silmarils. And the Valar did marvel, the people were awed, and Melkor was jealous of their magnificence. The Trees’ glowing light radiated from within the jewels, reminding one and all of what now lay withered and dead.

“They live,” Feanor finally replied. “Nothing shall ever rival their hue and beauty. No other creation shall match them.”

~*~*~

Sacred Jewels

They were almost holy, the Silmarils, and the Valar decreed that nothing should ever mar their beauty. No evil shall touch them, nor hands unclean. No mortal flesh shall touch these sacred jewels, lest it become withered and burned, as Varda herself did charge. Mandos, dark and forbidding, came forth to proclaim that the fates of Arda were locked within the heart of the jewels; of earth, sea, and wind, the course was set. Hallowed were the Silmarils.

And Feanor’s heart was fast bound to the Silmarils, created by his own hands. They were his, and he was theirs. Forever.

Comments

[tarion-anarore.livejournal.com]

Very nice!

[isil-elensar.livejournal.com]

Thank you, Tarion! :-)

[dawn_felagund]

Lovely, Isil! There is definitely a nice sense of foreboding in the last part of the last one.... *shivers* That line about how his heart was bound fast to the things he had made (or something like that :^P) has always made my shiver and wonder all at once. *lifts feet from plotbunnies*

[isil-elensar.livejournal.com]

*hugs* thank you, Dawn!

Perhaps he was so dedicated to his work, so much so that he put his heart and soul into his creations. *shrug* Wild guess... ;-)