Drabbletag 7: Silmarillion - OFC/OFC - Lake Linaewen
Title: Song of Lake Linaewen
Author: lignota/Zdenka
Prompt: Silmarillion: elf/elf - Lake Linaewen
Fandom: The Silmarillion
Pairing: OFC/OFC
Rating: T
Word count: 200
Summary: A Sindarin Elf of Nevrast mourns the departure of her lover, one of Turgon's people who went with him to Gondolin.
Warnings: none
I sat by Lake Linaewen among the marshes, piping on a flute cut from a reed. I played to call the birds to me, the little birds that fly among the rushes.
To the sound of my piping came a bright-eyed Noldo maid, parting the rushes. The birds flew away with a fluttering of wings. I stood still, clutching my flute.
Many times you came back, and many times we met; I played my reed-flute for you there among the rushes. You called me your little bird, your sweet maid of the lakeshore. You sang for me your songs with strange words, that came from across the Great Sea.
Many times we met, and many times we kissed, as the little birds piped in the marshes. Our cloaks were warm below us, and the rushes swayed above us. You unbraided my hair, and the wind tangled it.
You came to meet me at evening, when the little birds were singing among the rushes. You spoke no word of departure--only you kissed me so fiercely!
The halls of Vinyamar are cold and empty. I pipe alone on the shore among the rushes, and only the birds call back to me.
Author: lignota/Zdenka
Prompt: Silmarillion: elf/elf - Lake Linaewen
Fandom: The Silmarillion
Pairing: OFC/OFC
Rating: T
Word count: 200
Summary: A Sindarin Elf of Nevrast mourns the departure of her lover, one of Turgon's people who went with him to Gondolin.
Warnings: none
I sat by Lake Linaewen among the marshes, piping on a flute cut from a reed. I played to call the birds to me, the little birds that fly among the rushes.
To the sound of my piping came a bright-eyed Noldo maid, parting the rushes. The birds flew away with a fluttering of wings. I stood still, clutching my flute.
Many times you came back, and many times we met; I played my reed-flute for you there among the rushes. You called me your little bird, your sweet maid of the lakeshore. You sang for me your songs with strange words, that came from across the Great Sea.
Many times we met, and many times we kissed, as the little birds piped in the marshes. Our cloaks were warm below us, and the rushes swayed above us. You unbraided my hair, and the wind tangled it.
You came to meet me at evening, when the little birds were singing among the rushes. You spoke no word of departure--only you kissed me so fiercely!
The halls of Vinyamar are cold and empty. I pipe alone on the shore among the rushes, and only the birds call back to me.