Title: Ordinary
Author: Thunder Pichu
Contact: tpmygate. Please. I'm really hard to offend. :-)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except perhaps a vague idea of the personalities of the characters within.
Summary: Moments in the life of an ordinary Tatya... His story, and the story of his House, is anything but. Of course, 'tis to be expected from the future King of the Noldor. Meet Finwë, a young Elf who has a talent for frustrating his Lord.
Notes: Yes, this is Fëanor's father... When he was really little. For this series, I'm using some rather obscure canon details. If you'd like me to clear anything up, just ask. I'd be happy to try and explain. Of maybe one of the future pieces will have the information you need.
This piece is when the ambassadors arrive in Valinor and look upon it for the first time. The point of view is, of course, Finwë's.
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I expected the Blessed Land that Lord Oromë spoke of to be beautiful. The Valar do live in it, after all. But this, I never expected! Plains, delicate flower trails, slow rolling hills as far as the eyes can see. The light from over a nearby hill is so bright that I cannot look at it directly. Silver light, said Oromë, from the silver tree, Telperion. Telperion's light is more similar to that of the stars, according to him. If this is more similar to the stars, this bright light that throws our features into sharp relief, then what does the brighter golden tree, Laurelin, look like? I can do naught but stand and stare like a small animal in the firelight.
My companion's hair shines golden and actually reflects light upon his tunic straps and bare shoulders. My other friend has fine silver hair that sparkles when he moves. I tug a lock of my own hair free from its binding, hoping to find another brilliant color, but my hair is the same as it always has been.
Long, plain, and black.
Elwë turns to me, his deep green eyes glittering in joy. He gasps, and rests a hand on my cheek. I look up at him. I have to crane my neck to see him.
"Little one," he whispers. It is not true. I am older than he is. He finds it amusing to tease me about my height. But, while taller than almost everyone else, he is not the tallest of the Quendi. That is Lord Imin, of the Minyar. Then Lord Tata, of the Tatyar. Like me. And Lord Enel, of the Nelyar. Elwë is a Nelya, though his hair in vastly different in color. He is also shorter than all three. "You look so different in the light."
"As do you," I reply, startled from my thoughts. They sidetrack like that often. "As does Ingwë." I try to keep the envy from my voice. I fail. Elwë frowns. Ingwë turns at the sound of his name. He was surveying the area with an unrestrained eagerness. He gasps as well, and locks eyes with me. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I shake off their hands, to no avail. They both seem to reach an agreement, and steer me to a pool of water in the grass nearby. I humor them. In the water, I see the vague reflection of a short Tatya, with too-long hair and an overly cherubic face. I have never really thought myself good looking, at any point in my life, and this is no exception.
They gently push me down. I oblige them, dropping to my knees, ignoring the dew that soaks my long tunic. It does not take long to see what Ingwë and Elwë see – my eyes. I am almost positive that all Tatyar have grey eyes. Lord Tata does, at least. But once again, I prove to be different.
My eyes are blue. Not dark blue, like Ingwë's eyes... A vivid blue that parallels the sky here. Again, I defy convention. Morwë would be furious with me. As for myself – I am delighted.
I grin, getting to my feet again. I guess I am not so ordinary after all.
