Author's Note:
My first uploaded into fanfiction.net, so please, go easy on me, grammar isn't one of my stronger points. I hate tenses, and I need a beta reader. Anyone interested? No? Oh well, but if you are, give a hoot on the reviewer's column. Which reminds me; review, comments and criticisms welcome ;). But don't bother flaming; Glaurung has done enough of it.
Words in italics denote thoughts.
Words in bold are direct (or shadow) quotations off Tolkien.
All this is based entirely upon the Silmarillion (perhaps a bit of what I can remember from Unfinished Tales)… I know the Unfinished Tales and the Lays of Beleriand goes into greater details… but I lost my copy of both *sob *. So, forgive any errors that should arise at any point in this fic, I mean no harm- serious! If I find my UT, I'll be sure to make changes…
Ahem, before I get lynched by purist, I somewhat changed the order of Níniel's actions… Some of you may know what it is….
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Disclaimer:
Níniel, , nor Brandir belongs to me, they are the creations of J.R.R. Tolkien, and I'm only a poor high school student borrowing them for creative purpose. Though I'm not really happy that I have to borrow Glaurung… but he comes with the package *shudder *
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Part One
The Tear-maiden's Lament
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"Hail, Nienor, daughter of Hùrin. We meet again ere the end. I give thee joy that thou hast found thy brother at last. And now thou shalt know him: a stabber in the dark, treacherous to foes, faithless to friends, and a curse unto his kin, Tùrin son of Hùrin! But the worst of all his deeds thou shalt feel in thyself."
And she ran as one feyed. The malice of the Golden Worm echoed in her mind, reverberating through every layer of her consciousness: taunting her, haunting her. His death further tormented her- for now her darkness is lifted. Now she is no longer Níiniel, wife of Tùrin., Nnow she is Nienor sister of Tùrin. But bBoth loved Tùrin. The heartbeat within her drummed on.
'…But the worst of all his deeds thou shalt feel in thyself… feel in thyself…'
Sounds of hurried footsteps moved towards her.
"Wait, Níniel, wait!"
Brandir's frantic cries rang through her mind, piercing the turmoil. If only for a moment it reprieved her of the dragon's whispers. And the years she served in darkness crashed into her, drowning her in its intensity.
"Wait, oh, wait, was it ever your counsel!" she bitterly cried in agony. "Would that I have but listened."
She ran on, while faithful Brandir hobbled far, far behind. Frustrated, he cursed his lameness as he lost sight of the pallid glow of her raiment.
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'Too late, always I'm too late to stop her.' He limped on, determined. |
'Too late, if only I had listened, if only I had waited' The cacophony of her thoughts grew louder. |
'Hail, Nienor, daughter of Hùrin.'
'I am Nienor… Nienor… Nienor… oh hated name. Nienor daughter of Hùrin. Words that are gall to mouth and mind. Yet I am her…"
'Tùrin son of Hùrin!'
'Yet still I am Níniel, wife of Tùrin, brother to Nienor'
If Glaurung himself had tore her body into pieces, he could have not wound her more than the revelation of the truth. For the truth clawed her heart, and shredded her soul- while more than Glaurung himself could with his talons tore her body. Anguish poisoned her blood. Her thoughts searing with pain., rushing through to her thoughts.
'Oh cursed life. Born to love, and to sin with one dearest to me…Yet Nienor or Níniel I am neither…'
A stray breeze whistled passed her ears, entangling deep into her matted locks. The tears that came easily froze behind her bright eyes. Memories of him, his eyes, his voice, his smile, his sadness assaulted her. She smiled in bitter defeat, and collapsed onto the ground.
'…Neither one nor the other…only one who loves her sweet husband…'
And the dam burst, as emotions overflowed. Her silent scream stabbing loud into the air. Too exhausted to cry, mixed emotions incomprehensible, too overwhelming to sob. Her eyes burned bright in the night.
'And I would never change that…'
She looked at the churning waters below. The waves of the River Teiglin crashed against the cliff- a sirens' calling, hypnotizing her. She shut her eyes and took a deep shuddering breath. She knew where her next steps would take her.
May the Valars forgive me…'
She stood up, proud daughter of Morwen- fair to behold. Casting a glance to the muted glare of gold, she whispered softly:
"Farewell, O twice beloved. A Tùrin Turambar turun ambartanen: master of doom by doom mastered. O happy to be dead."
Her gaze returned to the wailing symphony below. Her gaze unwavering still, she ran with sure steps and cast herself over the brink of the jagged edges of Cabed-en Aras. And closed her eyes.
Slivers of her time with Tùrin ebbed through her being. She remembered his soft lips and sweet kisses, his large, sure, callused hand and his gentle touches, his passionate embraces. Most of all she remembered his soul, the intensity of the darkness eclipsed only by his comforting presence. The life within her stirred- a bittersweet reminder of the mistake she couldn't and wouldn't regret.
'I'm sorry little one, may the Valars grant thee a boon'
The wailings grew louder.
'Wait for me in the Hall of Mandos. My brother'
'My love…'
'May we meet beyond the circles of this world if Eru wills it.'
'I love thee'
Above, the trembling figure of Brandir stood at the edge as he watched his beloved fall into the merciless arms of untamed blue. His cry reverberated, unheard amongst the rocks.
And before the cold, wild, frothy waters of the river could claim her; words that she once said to Brandir came forth to her.
"The Black Sword was my beloved and my husband. To seek him only do I go. What else do you think?"