Jun. 10th, 2015

so_dark_a_road: (Star of Earendil)
[ Leaves blow softly. He climbs to a hilltop. There is a circle of pines here, and he leans against one. He looks out over a forested valley. The sun gleams on the pine needles except where there is shade, and a blue sky arches over the far side of the valley. Time goes by, and the sun slips down behind the ridge. So silent is this place that he thinks he must be the last sentient being in all the world. Yet, it is peaceful. Peace is not something he much understands...and yet it is strangely welcome. ]

[ He looks westward and sucks a breath in sharply. His dark gray eyes widen as he steps out from under the trees to see if he really saw what he thinks he saw. What he sees is the planet Venus. (Or, in his world, Earendil's ship Vingilot, bearing the white flame of one of Feanor's jewels.) ]

Surely that is a Silmaril? [ He is seeing what his brothers Maedhros and Maglor saw on the eve of the War of Wrath, not long before Maedhros' death and at some unspecified interval before Maglor's. But he doesn't know about that; it happened after his own time had come. ]

Then... [ He means: That one, at least, is safe from me and my brothers. ]

Oh Absalom

Jun. 10th, 2015 02:33 am
so_dark_a_road: (a vision of war)
[ On his way down the hillside, down into the valley where there must be a path or a road, or at least a stream he can follow. Valley pathways always lead somewhere. That is, if to be somewhere is what he wants. He is still not sure about that. Maybe what he really wants is to be nowhere. But he is a strong, determined man, and he forges on, by instinct if not by reason. He halts suddenly, struck by knowledge, like a whisper out of the night. ]

My son is still alive. I know it.

[ He doesn't expect ever to meet him again, however, not in life or death. Their paths are severed. And that was the case long before Curufin and his brothers attacked Doriath, trying to wrest the one available Silmaril from Luthien's son, Dior. But now a weight is lifted from his shoulders, and he can go on knowing that at least, somewhere under moon or stars or sun, Celebrimbor follows his own destiny. He almost smiles. ]

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so_dark_a_road: (Default)
Curufin, son of FĂ«anor

The Vow We Spoke in Our Madness

Then Feanor swore a terrible oath. His seven sons leapt straightway to his side and took the selfsame vow together, and red as blood shown their drawn swords in the glare of the torches. They swore an oath that none shall break, and none should take, by the name even of Iluvatar, calling the Everlasting Dark upon them if they kept it not...vowing to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World Vala, Demon, Elf or Man as yet unborn, or any creature great or small, good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso should hold or take or keep a Silmaril from their possession. -- "Of the Flight of the Noldor," The Silmarillion

"We will never turn back from pursuit. After Morgoth to the ends of the Earth! War shall he have and hatred undying. But when we have conquered and regained the Silmiarils, then we and we alone shall be lords of the unsullied Light, and masters of the beauty and bliss of Arda." -- Feanor's words

Thus spoke Maedhros and Maglor and Celegorm, Curufin and Caranthir, Amrod and Amras, princes of the Noldor; and many quailed to hear the dread words. For so sworn, good or evil, an oath may not be broken, and it shall pursue oathkeeper and oathbreaker to the World's end. -- "Of the Flight of the Nolder," The Silmarillion