[Ficlet] Silmarillion : The fever (Maedhros/Fingon, PG)
hhimring m'a envoyé une nouvelle traduction de cette ficlet Maedhros/Fingon. Cela me semble tout à fait correspondre au texte français *-* ! Et mes pauvres lecteurs n'auront plus mal aux oreilles.
Donc voici la nouvelle traduction (que je m'apprête à modifier sur les archives)...
During the last laps of this dark journey, when he felt that he would definitely come to rest in that mild and sun-lit place, there was once again a kind of music to be heard, humming. Amongst the several different voices he heard - some unknown, some the voices of his brothers -, there was one he perceived most clearly, and that, in the end, was the most regular. Long vowels with minor inflexions of intonation, a voice melodious and calm as the sound of a zither.
And when he finally woke up, he lay in a bed draped with fleecy blankets, and the light of the Sun was moving across the ceiling. But most important of all, to his left, was Fingon the Brave, looking at him with much care and sadness. For years, Maedhros had only seen orcs or creatures even uglier than those. Thus, at this time, nothing could have seemed more beautiful and fairer to him than his friend's face. A face he had known so well in the past, but which now still shone with the light of the Trees, whereas his own light was lost. A face with strong and pure features and blue eyes, also radiant, but with the nobility of his soul. And out of the darkness he had just emerged from, Maedhros raised his left arm, attracted by that light. He managed to touch Fingon's hand and wrist - so warm.
« I love you... »
Those weren't Maedhros's words. The sentence just slipped out of him, like a leaf falling from a tree, as exhaustion and circumstances had removed his body from his control.
And their sound was too weak to be heard.
Liens
SWG
AO3
FFnet
Donc voici la nouvelle traduction (que je m'apprête à modifier sur les archives)...
During the last laps of this dark journey, when he felt that he would definitely come to rest in that mild and sun-lit place, there was once again a kind of music to be heard, humming. Amongst the several different voices he heard - some unknown, some the voices of his brothers -, there was one he perceived most clearly, and that, in the end, was the most regular. Long vowels with minor inflexions of intonation, a voice melodious and calm as the sound of a zither.
And when he finally woke up, he lay in a bed draped with fleecy blankets, and the light of the Sun was moving across the ceiling. But most important of all, to his left, was Fingon the Brave, looking at him with much care and sadness. For years, Maedhros had only seen orcs or creatures even uglier than those. Thus, at this time, nothing could have seemed more beautiful and fairer to him than his friend's face. A face he had known so well in the past, but which now still shone with the light of the Trees, whereas his own light was lost. A face with strong and pure features and blue eyes, also radiant, but with the nobility of his soul. And out of the darkness he had just emerged from, Maedhros raised his left arm, attracted by that light. He managed to touch Fingon's hand and wrist - so warm.
« I love you... »
Those weren't Maedhros's words. The sentence just slipped out of him, like a leaf falling from a tree, as exhaustion and circumstances had removed his body from his control.
And their sound was too weak to be heard.
Liens
SWG
AO3
FFnet