Drabbles - Taking to the Water.
I wrote a set of drabbles for the Taking to the Water challenges at tolkien_weekly,also fitting them to some of the challenges for the Green Path for Back to Middle Earth Month.
They are written from the point of the Teleri - the sea going elves whose love of the sea, and ships, led to conflict with the Noldorin elves when those others wanted to 'requisition' the Telerin fleet.
Taking to the Water
Rated; PG
Word count:600
Sea Longing
We came West over water, with our fellows. And, for us, it was the water that stole our hearts rather than the land.
We loved it when it was a flat mirror for the sky; we loved it when the light of the trees glinted on dancing waves; we loved it when it raged and roared and threw itself at the land.
But watching was not enough and soon we began to think of skimming across it. We saw what floated and what did not. And so our first boats resembled cockleshells made of wood. Swans would come in time.
Dark Is The Night For All (A pair of drabbles)
Some say that the Fëanorians invented the sword but they did not, for our forefathers who left Cuiviénen found danger and soon realised the need for weapons; the Fëanorians simply learnt how to perfect them.
But whilst the royal family of the Noldor cannot be credited, or blamed, as the first to forge a sword, they were the first to wield them against their fellow elves….
The Valar promised peace and safety when they led us here; and now we stood in the ruins of our city, our ships gone, and our friends and family lying dead at our feet.
We mourned. Until now we had never needed such a word but now we found one.
Fëanor had said he would return our ships. We waited. With swords. They would not have sailed them away again. But they never came.
Now we had nothing but memories of the slain, of the ships, even of light, for it was darker now than ever it had been since Varda sang the trees.
Then came the sun; painfully bright where it revealed the bloodstains still remaining, then gone. But soon we learnt to value day and turn our hands back to our craft.
Do It Yourselves!
Before the coming of moon or sun, as we learnt to mourn, Nolofinwë and his folk remained. Waiting for the ships they said. Our ships.
They were, to us, like animals circling, waiting to dash in and snatch their prey. When they saw Fëanáro had betrayed them they wept; as if we would have let them take what was ours again.
Some of them thought then that we would build them more. Us, build for them, when we had scarce finished counting our dead?
“Build your own,” we said. “Even you could build a raft. Build your own… or walk!”
And Walk They Did
“Walk!” we said, “or build your own ships.” And walk they did.
Perhaps they thought it better, or at least faster, than hewing down trees, shaping logs and planks, leaving them to season, then applying adze and saw, hammer and peg.
So many of them, though, and so ill prepared.
We, who had sailed north, could have told them it was all bitterness and ice. But they asked not and so we did not tell for, in honesty, although they were not those who had killed our fathers, brothers, sons, we had little love, then, for any of the Noldor.
Returnees
In time our slain returned. Not all together, but gently, so that they could adjust to families whose lives had continued whilst they were not here. They settled in and found their places building ships, crewing ships, being sons, husbands, and fathers.
Then it was that we began to pity the returning Noldor. They had died in our streets, sailed in our stolen ships, or died on their long, cold, walk; and their families had been beside them.
They were as if adrift, without compass or anchor and, although we would not forget, we could begin to forgive… a little.
They are written from the point of the Teleri - the sea going elves whose love of the sea, and ships, led to conflict with the Noldorin elves when those others wanted to 'requisition' the Telerin fleet.
Taking to the Water
Rated; PG
Word count:600
Sea Longing
We came West over water, with our fellows. And, for us, it was the water that stole our hearts rather than the land.
We loved it when it was a flat mirror for the sky; we loved it when the light of the trees glinted on dancing waves; we loved it when it raged and roared and threw itself at the land.
But watching was not enough and soon we began to think of skimming across it. We saw what floated and what did not. And so our first boats resembled cockleshells made of wood. Swans would come in time.
Dark Is The Night For All (A pair of drabbles)
Some say that the Fëanorians invented the sword but they did not, for our forefathers who left Cuiviénen found danger and soon realised the need for weapons; the Fëanorians simply learnt how to perfect them.
But whilst the royal family of the Noldor cannot be credited, or blamed, as the first to forge a sword, they were the first to wield them against their fellow elves….
The Valar promised peace and safety when they led us here; and now we stood in the ruins of our city, our ships gone, and our friends and family lying dead at our feet.
We mourned. Until now we had never needed such a word but now we found one.
Fëanor had said he would return our ships. We waited. With swords. They would not have sailed them away again. But they never came.
Now we had nothing but memories of the slain, of the ships, even of light, for it was darker now than ever it had been since Varda sang the trees.
Then came the sun; painfully bright where it revealed the bloodstains still remaining, then gone. But soon we learnt to value day and turn our hands back to our craft.
Do It Yourselves!
Before the coming of moon or sun, as we learnt to mourn, Nolofinwë and his folk remained. Waiting for the ships they said. Our ships.
They were, to us, like animals circling, waiting to dash in and snatch their prey. When they saw Fëanáro had betrayed them they wept; as if we would have let them take what was ours again.
Some of them thought then that we would build them more. Us, build for them, when we had scarce finished counting our dead?
“Build your own,” we said. “Even you could build a raft. Build your own… or walk!”
And Walk They Did
“Walk!” we said, “or build your own ships.” And walk they did.
Perhaps they thought it better, or at least faster, than hewing down trees, shaping logs and planks, leaving them to season, then applying adze and saw, hammer and peg.
So many of them, though, and so ill prepared.
We, who had sailed north, could have told them it was all bitterness and ice. But they asked not and so we did not tell for, in honesty, although they were not those who had killed our fathers, brothers, sons, we had little love, then, for any of the Noldor.
Returnees
In time our slain returned. Not all together, but gently, so that they could adjust to families whose lives had continued whilst they were not here. They settled in and found their places building ships, crewing ships, being sons, husbands, and fathers.
Then it was that we began to pity the returning Noldor. They had died in our streets, sailed in our stolen ships, or died on their long, cold, walk; and their families had been beside them.
They were as if adrift, without compass or anchor and, although we would not forget, we could begin to forgive… a little.