I have finally begun NirCele's drabble challenge! These drabbles will be for LotR, Hobbit, and Silmarillion.
First up is a Silmarillion drabble about Niënor. If you haven't read the Silmarillion (and you definitely should!), just know that the young woman who is the subject of this one has total amnesia (as in, she doesn't even know how to talk). She was rescued by some villagers and has just recovered from an illness that she contracted just before being rescued. The guy who rescued her gave her the name Niniel ("tear-maiden").
(I haven't read the Sil in several months, so please tell me of any canon errors you might find, and I'll do my best to correct them.)
#48: Language Lesson (Niënor)
She knew that she must have spent many days there among those strangers before she was well enough to leave her bed. The morning she finally did was a golden one full of warm sunlight and light breezes. The family who had helped the lame man take care of her flitted back and forth, checking on her, seemingly not convinced she was really well. Finally they left her alone, and she preferred it that way.
She wandered outside, gazing with lifting spirits at the sun-dappled world around her. A small village surrounded her, and she sat down outside the hut on the lush grass, running her fingers through the soft sprigs, feeling their crisp coolness. Everything was new and strange here - the people, the surroundings, the simple homespun dress she was wearing.
Most frustratingly of the new and strange things, she barely understood any of the noises the others made, except for a few words. During her long recovery, she had listened to her caregivers and picked out a few words that were oft-repeated. Níniel, she knew, meant her, and she thought Brandir meant the kind lame man who mainly took care of her. Turambar was the man who had rescued her and had frequently come to see how she was doing. And there were a few other words whose meanings she could hazily guess, but she wasn't sure of them. These people were so kind, and she only wished she could communicate with them.
She tucked her golden hair behind her ear to prevent the breeze from flicking it in her face. "Nin-i-el," she murmured to herself. "Níniel." Her voice sounded strange to her ears, she had used it so little.
"Níniel?" A girl several years younger had slipped outside without her noticing. Níniel looked up as the girl, smiling, seated herself next to her. The blonde maiden wondered briefly why she was there, but then decided that the girl just wanted to be outdoors.
A sudden inspiration struck her then. Cautiously, unsure of what exactly the strange green softness below her bare feet was made of, she plucked a blade of grass, holding it up for the girl to see. She shot her a questioning look, gesturing towards it.
For a second, the girl seemed puzzled, but then her face lit up. "Grass," she said, pointing. "Grass."
Finally she was getting somewhere! Níniel broke out into a wide smile. "G-grass," she repeated, feeling the unfamiliar word roll off her tongue. "Grass. Grass."
"Yes, grass," the girl said, smiling.
Happiness surged through Níniel, and she got up and laid her hand against the hut, glancing at the girl.
"House," the girl replied to the wordless question, getting up too and smiling at Niniel's obvious excitement.
"House," Níniel repeated. She paused, and after a moment laid her hand on her chest, asking, "Níniel?"
"Níniel," the girl said, nodding. She laid her hand on her own chest. "Maerwen."
"M-Maerwen," Niniel repeated, radiant with discovery. "Maerwen."