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Medium Dawn Felagund of the Fountain

"The Small and Secret Things"--16 through 20

The (Cyber) Bag of Weasels

bread and puppet




"About as much fun as a bag of weasels"...when I first saw this Irish adage, it made me think of the life of a writer: sometimes perilous, sometimes painful, certainly interesting. My paper journal has always been called "The Bag of Weasels." This is the Bag of Weasels' online home.

"The Small and Secret Things"--16 through 20

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yavanna earth

Still more daily drabbles/ficlets/whateverthehelltheyare ...




It is said that Amandil set sail in a small ship at night, and steered first eastward, and then went about and passed into the west. And he took with him three servants, dear to his heart, and never again were they heard of by word or sign in this world, nor is there any tale or guess of their fate.
--Akallabêth

The fate of Amandil …

This Place
We must be nearing Aman. We must.

The seas have grown tortuous in a way that defies what I know of water. No longer are there tides but paths carved upon the water, and try as we might to escape, the ship twists and cants upon them, and cold mist writhes into our throats.

What is this place?

There is a shadow on the horizon. Land? It stretches, fills our sights, and we press to the rails and stare. Nay, it is the sky. The black sky, indistinguishable from the sea.

But--panic touches my heart--where are the stars?




Fëanor and Finwë argue about the Valar. I've intended something of a chaotic feel to this piece; Finwë is only reluctantly coming to the realization that something is afoot. This will culminate, of course, with Fëanor's exile from Tirion and the Valar taking Finwë's right to make the decision concerning the fate of his son and subject.

Blindness
I have progressed to the point where I no longer hear his words, just the sound of them. They are like keen knife edges, slicing illogic and hope in a single resounding tack against the brutal bone of what he calls "common sense." It is common sense, Father, he says, if you would just listen.

I have been listening, Fëanáro, for the whole of your life, don't you know?

But behind your rhetoric lies a haze of memory that you would not recall. Not recall, Fëanáro, because you were not born yet. I had no intentions toward fatherhood at all, actually. That always silences him, to consider my life without him, without a center. Wobbling off course, perhaps, he imagines, for even as I followed Oromë over soil and sea, I know that he--my precious Fëanáro--would have stayed, savage in his beauty, with light in his eyes that need not come from the Trees, and there would maybe have been more Avari than Eldar.

But I followed, and he was not there to behold Light for the first time. You have not lived forever, Fëanáro, I remind him, and for all your genius, the memories of those times will always elude you. And no, your books do not do it justice, even the words of Rúmil. No, you were born into Light; you do not understand what it was to come from darkness into Light and to think that those who gave such a gift, freely and willingly, would never intend to harm us.

But they do, they do. The passion in his voice is torn by another emotion. Grief, perhaps? Grief at my blindness, they way that staring unblinking into a light makes the rest of the world disappear, and soon, one can see nothing at all.




Maedhros on the plasticity of memory following Angband. Please note: This double drabble contains violence, not quite enough to warrant an adult rating but enough that I ask readers to tread with care.

None Need Know
None need know the truth about my time in Angband. My brothers tell brave stories to our people and our uncle's people of my courage. How I took out one of Morgoth's lieutenants with my hands bound, using just my teeth. About my numerous attempts at escape storied in the scars--memories of punishment--that cross my body.

My back was carved with whipmarks like the grids my brothers used to use for playing games. Jump this piece over that piece … CAPTURED! "Morgoth whipped him and wouldn't stop till he screamed," I hear Maglor say. "But he didn't scream … so he didn't stop."

None need know. Right?

I begin to believe it myself. My knees never knocked, my voice never shook. My hands were firm and my gaze unwavering as I fearlessly met the eyes of the Dark Lord. I never wet myself. Vomited. My eyes stayed dry and my heart stayed strong and steady. I never begged for my life. For death.

I don't have nightmares.

Waking with a scream I never uttered in Angband at the back of my throat, my first thought: I don't have nightmares.

I don't!

And if I did? None need know.




Fëanor replies to Finwë from Monday's double drabble Blindness about his growing mistrust of the Valar.

Perspective
There is something to be said, Father, for distance and perspective, the way you sometimes have to stand away from an object to see its flaws. You fault me for not having awakened beside Cuiviénen. But neither have you lived forever. Neither have the Valar. Even Manwë. Even Melkor. So back and back we go through time, till we reach Eru … and maybe something preceded Eru too. And we are all unwise, before the end.

I see by your eyes that you fear what I have just said. "Shaken the earth beneath your feet," we say, "to the very foundations."

And that is why we require perspective. If I cannot live forever and bear the wisdom of all the ages of existence, then let me retain wisdom enough to back away and trust my heart and senses to know when I am being made a fool. And strength enough to fight that, no matter how great the enemy I face.

Enemy? Yes, I say it, and you know of whom I speak. For they have betrayed the Elves before; they have denied protection to those far less dangerous than me, and their folly shall be both of our undoings.




Maedhros on the day that Celegorm and Curufin arrive in Himring after being banished from Nargothrond. A double drabble.

The Calm Before
It is as good a day as we have in Himring. No news comes from the front. The weather is as fair as can be expected; I spit and it does not freeze before hitting the earth. Even the forsaken winds have subsided a bit so the streets remain clear of snow and I don't have to listen to the bellyaching of the gardeners appointed to that task.

The sky is a pale, flawless blue-gray, without a single cloud.

I am sitting in my study, enjoying it. Just one day,> I'd asked. And I've received.

There is a cup of herbal tea sitting on the corner of my desk. For once, I have time to let it properly cool and do not have to drink it down so fast that I scald my mouth. Or chance that it will sit until as cold as the numbing floorboards beneath my feet while I discuss battle plans and provisions and how we will survive another winter.

I lift the teacup and sip. Delicious.

And then comes the knock. The page bows low, hiding unease in his eyes. "My Lord Maedhros, I announce the arrival of Lords Celegorm and Curufin. Most unexpected--"

  • Oh, Amandil... (For a while I kept having interferences with the third PoTC movie and World´s End, but never you mind). The feeling is dark and ominous, playing so well with the very human panic of the dark and the unknown. This drabble will from now on be part of the canon corpus I generally take in consideration when writing something, since it goes well with my generally gloomy views on the stories that Tolkien left untold. (Tuor and Indril, anyone?) Poor Amandil...

    Great depiction of generational conflict in the drabbles about Finwë and Fëanor. Their issues connect only too well with well-known XX century constants. And maybe you´ll throw hard objects at me for saying so, but "The Calm Before" reads a bit humorous to me. I keep having mental pictures of Maedhros sitting on a comfortable sofa with fluffy slippers (he even was sipping from the teacup!) just a moment before Hell breaks loose. ;)
    • I think fluffy slippers are obligatory in cold Himring. >:D
    • This drabble will from now on be part of the canon corpus I generally take in consideration when writing something, since it goes well with my generally gloomy views on the stories that Tolkien left untold. (Tuor and Indril, anyone?) Poor Amandil...

      w00t! Tuor and Idril fascinate me too. I'd like to one day write an obscenely long action/adventure story about them and their journey to Aman. ;)

      So do you think Amandil definitely had an unhappy ending? The jury's still out for me. Part of me sees him in Aman, arguing with the Valar to save his people. Yikes, plotbunnies abound! ;)

      And maybe you´ll throw hard objects at me for saying so, but "The Calm Before" reads a bit humorous to me.

      I intended it so, so yay! :^D While not exactly what I'd call "comedy," I did want it to have a humorous cant to it. Of course, if I'd put Maedhros in fuzzy slippers, that might knock it over the edge from "humorous cant" to "outright absurd" ... maybe I'll do a rewrite of it someday. :^P
      • About Amandil: I usually prefer not to think about the stories that Tolkien left unsaid, because I know he fully intended this concept to work in its own way. I gave in for Tuor and Idril, though... because he provoked me with that uncanonical happy ending of Tuor becoming an Elf... and well, in the end I suppose I wrote about Eluréd and Elurín, as well. Oh, damn. I just realised I am an inconsequent person.

        I also realised that whenever I pick up one of those unfinished threads I give them very grim endings, so maybe Amandil´s better off if I never think about what happened to him. (I tortured him enough while he was living in Númenor, thank you very much)

        Maedhros with fuzzy slippers might be outright absurd, but, if you let me say it, a very satisfying kind of outright absurd.
        • I am proffering a Nelyo icon made for me by rhapsody11 whom I would like to see in fuzzy slippers ... >:^)))

          See, I can't help but to think of the "unfinished" stories. Though I never develop a solid outcome in my mind but like to come up with different endings and defend them to myself ... I am such a geek!

          So what about Maglor? ;) The "Maglor wandering on the shores in lament" subgenre of Silmarillion stories is one of the few that almost unequivocally gets on my nerves, yet I've found a good amount of satisfaction in drabbling possible endings for his story. I had a whole series going, but it was one of the few things completely wiped out during my last data loss, and I haven't had the energy yet to try to rewrite it. Of course, I have a Felakverse "canon" ending for him that I'm not revealing yet, but again, the myriad possibilities are irresistible.
      • Oh, there are many endings for Maglor, aren´t they? But that´s what makes it so very interesting. I remember that "Maglor in History" challenge years ago.

        And I have some difficulties imagining that Maedhros in fuzzy slippers... it´s more of the swimsuit sort. ;)
      • OKay, I will see if I can find a perfect and more aged Nelyo for you and give him bunny fluffy slippers in case I don't get to finish your b-day story... or do you want to see me in fluffy slippers?

        The "Maglor wandering on the shores in lament" subgenre of Silmarillion stories is one of the few that almost unequivocally gets on my nerves,

        Ut oh, Maglor just piqued his eyebrow here and gave me this most unnerving look. ;)
  • Ah Amandil, such a cruel fate after being so faithful and loyal to the Valar, to be punished like that. I think the last sentence fully captures his panick and is greatly timed!

    Blindness and perspective are two great companion pieces. I can see Finwe's perspective, his reasoning from coming out into the light vs being born into the light. His blind trust in the Valar and I just hope that he catches the fragment of hurt he hears in his sons voice how that very same trust in the Valar and their judgement has grieved his son immensely. It somehow feels like even to Fëanor, it must be so hard to see his father still blindly trusting them. Of course in Fëanor's reasoning, I can see the machination of Melkor's lies. Even though Fëanor mistrusted him, you brilliantly wove in the concequences of the time he was able to walk amongst the elves. This in the perspective of Avari vs the Eldar ;), I just can't help to think that there is anothe parallel to be spotted: The Avari could not understand how the others could watch with fascination to the lights at the horizon's from afar (I think you know what I mean), looking at Feanor's reasoning, you see it mirrored here too, mayhap an ingenious layer how Fëanor himself, unknowingly longs to have an Avarin nature. Okay I am rambling, I haven't typed reviews for a while and I am surely rambling here, not sure if I make any sense (but grabbing some free time to do so, much too hasty).. sorry about that *wonders when LJ starts to scream that the comment is too long.

    Poor Nelyo, those two pieces, from a disorganised and struggling soul, to a calm and collected lord in the last drabble: the calm before the storm. Can I get front seat tickets in how Maedhros will react to his two brothers when he finds out what happened? ;c)

    Great writing Dawn! Its very inspiring! Now the time..
    • looking at Feanor's reasoning, you see it mirrored here too, mayhap an ingenious layer how Fëanor himself, unknowingly longs to have an Avarin nature.

      In my Felakverse, he does. He admires the Avari and believes that if he'd been born at Cuivienen, he would have stayed and made Middle-earth a society to compete with Aman. There's an AU plotbunny for ya. ;)

      Of course, in the early stories I've written, he doesn't come right out and say this. But he thinks it, and it reflects in his actions, I think. I just cannot see Feanor ever choosing to live in a society where he is controlled--even just to a small degree--by others. I can see him wishing to learn from the Valar ... then take it to improve life on Arda in general. In my essay on light that I am writing, there is some interesting stuff in BoLT about how the Valar originally took light freely available to all of Arda and concentrated it in Valinor in the vats of light used to create and nourish the Two Trees. Feanor (and his writer) find that despicable. My Feanor sees the benefits that his wisdom--their wisdom--can have for the world at large. He cannot keep it in a place where it matter so little, in Valinor. And so he longs for the freedom of the Avari to better their world with their knowledge and skills.

      All Felakverse, of course, although I like to think that it makes sense in the canon as well. :)

      Okay I am rambling, I haven't typed reviews for a while and I am surely rambling here, not sure if I make any sense

      Lol, you are making perfect sense! To me, anyway. ;) And rambling is allowed--nay, encouraged--on the Bag of Weasels. ;)

      Can I get front seat tickets in how Maedhros will react to his two brothers when he finds out what happened? ;c)

      :^))) I did do a bit on this in the piece I wrote for Jenni two years ago, "Tales Unheard," which I'm sure you've read, as it is Celegorm smut. >:^) But this is one of those storylines so good that I want to save it in its entirety for when I reach that point in my epic story series ... oh, twenty years from now!
      • There's an AU plotbunny for ya. ;)

        No no no no! Not more plotbunnies! Although I think that if Feanor would have lived long enough to lead that delegation that meets the Avari for the first time... Things might have been very different. Can you imagine that? Great minds alike meet and I think Feanor, being a skilled linguistic could have easily chatted with them and comfirm all the Avarin believes regarding the Valar.

        *sends the bunny back*

        Of course, in the early stories I've written, he doesn't come right out and say this. But he thinks it, and it reflects in his actions, I think. I just cannot see Feanor ever choosing to live in a society where he is controlled--even just to a small degree--by others.

        I personally think that you can see this very clearly in AMC, especially when Nelyo is speaking and observing his father. This of course also has to do that Nelyo is somehow more alike Finwe in mind, imho.

        And so he longs for the freedom of the Avari to better their world with their knowledge and skills.

        I do wonder whatthe Avari will think of this, especially since they are so averse everthing regarding the Valar... What would they say about knowlegde and skill with the Valar's aid. Somehow I immediately have to think about Eöl, who was immensely skilled without Valarn teachings and lore.

        I did do a bit on this in the piece I wrote for Jenni two years ago, "Tales Unheard," which I'm sure you've read, as it is Celegorm smut. >:^)

        *thinks* I am not sure. *checks the first paragraphs* Yeah I think I did, but you know, I will read it again :)

        But this is one of those storylines so good that I want to save it in its entirety for when I reach that point in my epic story series ... oh, twenty years from now!

        LOL So many ideas, so little time!


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