Medium Dawn Felagund of the Fountain

Almost caught up! Still more drabble-type things, written on a somewhat daily basis.

Finwë, upon returning to his people from Valinor, ponders the difficulty of putting into words what he has seen. I've gone for a slightly surreal feel here in hopes of maybe conveying what it was like for the early Elves, dwelling in a world where so many things are new to them and there is much still to understand. This is a tribble, 300 words.

Morgoth attempts to persuade Maedhros into encouraging his brothers' surrender. Please be forewarned that this piece contains torture and violence, nothing graphic, but possibly bothersome to some readers.

This piece is a drabunculus. As far as I know, I invented the drabunculus form; at the very least, I invented the name drabunculus. Drabunculus is like homunculus: It is a single drabble with drabbles inside of it. In this particular piece, each number of the count (One, Two, Three) marks the start of a new drabble, a new introspection from Nelyo. The "container" of these three drabbles is also a drabble, bringing the word count for the piece to exactly 400 words.

It's not a particularly easy form to write, and I always swear that each drabunculus will be my last. But the form seemed well suited for this particular piece, so I brought it out again.

This is going to be the last, though. ;)

This is one of those double-purpose series again. It is first--like all of the ficlets and series here so far--inspired in part by the word of the day. It is also a birthday gift for Anglachel in response to her request on HASA for a story about a building.

I've chosen Fëanor's house in Formenos. I will make a quick note on canon interpretation before offering the story. In the Felakverse that I use for my stories, Formenos did exist before Fëanor used it as a fortress for hiding his treasures. It began as a mining town that developed a reputation for serving as a safe haven for craftsmen with extraordinary talent and eccentric tendencies. Hence Fëanor's attraction to it. He spent summers here for many years before his exile from Tirion; hence his decision to live and store his treasures there during his banishment.

The note that Formenos was built after Fëanor's exile was made my Christopher Tolkien, and I don't consider it canon as I have never found writings from J.R.R. Tolkien backing it up. The word Formenos does mean "northern fortress," and that is the only--and rather flimsy, in my opinion--evidence behind CT's addition to the index that I have found.

So here are three drabbles and three double-drabbles about Fëanor's house in Formenos. Happy birthday, Anglachel!

ETA: This ficlet became immensely popular after I first posted it on my daily drabble on SWG and on the birthday-card forum on HASA. It's one of my favorites too, though, so I'm not complaining!

A silly little ficlet in 700 words. Celegorm gets stuck in a window, and Caranthir helps him out. Featuring hedgehogs, neglected laundry duty, and a bit of bathroom humor … literally. You've been warned.

Just after Fëanor's birth, before Míriel's condition is revealed, Finwë is tormented by unease. A perfect hundred-word drabble.

The attempt to back up all of my daily drabbles on my LJ continues. I know that these are not new for most of my flist; for those who might read them for the first time, I hope you enjoy!

My daily-drabble project is on SWG here. It's updated daily ... more or less. ;)

On the way to Alqualondë, Fëanor thinks on the Silmarils. It has always been my private theory that part of Fëanor's obsessive pursuit came with the association of the theft of the Silmarils with Finwë's murder, almost as though to resolve the first would also resolve the second. This drabble explores this idea.

Today is Friday the 13th, and today's word deals with a phobia more irrational than most (and phobias are inherently irrational). So today's tribble--exactly 300 words--deals with what appears at first glance to be borne of paranoia and irrationality, a misgiving that leads to the creation of the Silmarils. This idea is expressed in The Silmarillion:

In that time were made those things that afterwards were most renowned of all the works of the Elves. For Fëanor, being come to his full might, was filled with a new thought, or it may be that some shadow of foreknowledge came to him of the doom that drew near; and he pondered how the light of the Trees, the glory of the Blessed Realm, might be preserved imperishable.

Fëanor, it seems, has taken over the daily drabble. Today's tribble again features him, but when the Word of the Day means "fruitful and productive," then who else but Fëanor comes to mind?

I've always believed that Fëanor was a difficult, demanding father but nonetheless adoring of his children. In fact, I spent an entire novel developing this idea. Today's piece looks at the same in the more reasonable length of 300 hundred words.

Today's word is a funny one, so I've made an attempt at a humor piece. Celegorm cleans his room, in 200 words.

Today's tribble (300 words) is dual-purposed. For one, it is inspired by the Word of the Day, bibelot. For another, it is dedicated with fondest wishes to Cheryl, who asked for a birthday drabble called "Wet Elves." Well, it's only one wet Elf and I've chosen a different title, but I hope that it suffices. Happy birthday, my dear!

Eärwen watches her soon-to-be husband construct a special gift for her on the beach of Alqualondë.

The Small and Secret Things is my daily-drabble project on SWG, based on the Dictionary.com Word of the Day. Because I really should have these things saved somewhere other than SWG (as, indeed, I preach to SWG members about their own work), then I am putting them up here as well. Hopefully, every few days, I'll be able to catch up and post a few more.

The betrothal of Arafinwë and Eärwen. I tried here to capture the languor of Alqualondë in contrast to Arafinwë's restless anxiety at waiting for Eärwen's reply. This was tough ... in just 100 words!

Maedhros on standing up to Fëanor about burning the ships at Losgar. This moment has always had significance to me, for it is the first indication of Maedhros's understanding of the need--and power--of unity between the Noldor. Yet it also is the first proof of how the strife between the princes of the Noldor will forever damn their quest against Morgoth. It is a portent of many things to come.

Fingolfin tries to understand his half-brother's elusive affection. I have tried to use my "Nolofinwë voice" for this one: economical and to-the-point, focusing on physical (versus emotional) observations.

I totally blame Fëanáro for making him that way. ;)

I've never been a huge fan of the Valar, but I have always (oddly) possessed a weak spot for Námo "Named After My Halls" Mandos. It is always fun to try to get into the mind of someone strong (or cruel) enough to bear seeing the future and knowing that he can do nothing about it. Here, he watches the Eldar arrive in Aman.

A double-drabble where Celegorm remembers his friendship with Oromë before he swears the Oath of the Fëanorians. I often ponder which son went first and which went last; in my mind, I often change their roles and try to develop the motives for each choice. It could make an interesting series of stories someday. In the meanwhile, it's a fun characterization exercise at least!