TolkienScribe's Scribblings
Disclaimer: Not one Elf, Dwarf, Human or anything fauna or flora.
Dedicated to a dear friend of mine, Mirkwood Warrior, a friend unlooked for, but welcome, in the forest of fanfiction.
This is a sister of TolkienScribe's Scribblings: LoTR Edition. These 'Scribblings' are my short snippets of musings, storylines, paragraphs that do not fit anywhere else in my stories and are not worthy of standing alone.
This edition will only consist of characters from Silmarillion in Tolkien's World.
Enjoy!
Fingolfin (Nolofinwë)
The chilly wind slapped against his cheeks and whipped his ragged clothes about him. The cold had long since set into his bones. There was no escape from the biting, killing cold. His entire world now consisted of white snow, white ice and white flakes that stung his eyes and nearly froze him in place if he stopped moving.
The wind howled mercilessly, and his people dragged behind him silently, too weary to speak. Nolofinwë stopped for a moment to grant his aching legs some respite, dug the point of his standard deep into the icy ground below for support. How did it come to this? His nation turned from the heights of civilisation to the pits of society. They were forsworn and cursed, rebels and kinslayers for committing unspeakable atrocities. Nolofinwë felt dread seep into his heart. This was just the beginning. How much more will they suffer, before they are forgiven for their grievous mistake?
He felt a brief touch on his shoulder and looked behind him. Findekáno stood behind him, clutching his shoulder in his pale hand. He held a child in the other arm, unrecognisable from the large cloak the child was bundled in. He clenched his teeth.
He shouldn't have trusted Fëanáro. He should have seen- he should have heeded the signs. If Fëanáro was willing to betray the Teleri, then it was no surprise that he betrayed his own kin, and a part of his nation. Fëanáro's obsession with his jewels was too unchecked, too strong.
He looked at his son and silently nodded. He didn't dare to open his mouth. He was so hungry, he numb to the pain of hunger.
They trudged on, in the swirl of snow and ice. Nolofinwë kept his head ducked… until finally he felt a breath of warm air. His breath stilled for a moment. He didn't dare hope.
The ice sloped upwards, until finally it turned to soft snow and then frost. Finally stone met his feet and he walked with more spring in his step. Finally they passed through the mountains and descended until they reached flat ground of soft soil.
Nolofinwë sank into his knees in relief and shock. It was done. They were across the hell of ice and snow. His skin warmed when a gust of fresh air blew against him. His chilled bones found some heat. His hunger became more pronounced. Behind him he heard gasps of relief.
He raised his eyes, vengeance and hate reflecting deep in the grey irises.
His half-brother will pay for his treachery.
Author's Note:
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