I do not own Valinor, Middle Earth, Melkor Morgoth, or Feonor. I did create the main character and his brothers.
I expect to make no money off this story, so please just read and review. :)
The Noldo ellon walked out into the river. The shadows swallowed part of it and him. He shivered in their darkness.
. . .
He had to be careful. Just because he was out of the mines did "not" mean he was out of Morgoth's stronghold. There were towers as well as pits. There were guards on walls as well as guards in chambers. He had to be careful. He skirted the heavier traveled places and went through emptier ones. This made his journey slow, long, and around about, but it kept him away from the roads, walls, and towers.
He hugged the shadows even though he missed the light. He did, however, travel in broad daylight too. Orc eyes were dazzled and orc skin burned by the blazing sun. He only went near water during the day. Though it was often in the shadows, which kept it cool, it was still foul from the belching of the smoke-stacks all around. However, it was the liquid available.
Food was something else. He found nothing growing there, but inedible briars, but he'd been hungry before. Even in the mines and the forges he'd had mostly liquids that gave him energy. It had been a long time since he'd felt anything solid or even semi-solid in his stomach. He would, however, once he reached home.
. . .
He stopped when he felt his foot nearly drop down from underneath him. He stood near the center of the river now. This was a deep place. He looked up toward the walls of the canyon. Their jagged edges reached up toward the sky like walls with parapets. His throat tightened. He looked down at his reflection again. What must they have seen, his brothers, his kin, when he had come home?
. . .
There it was! Home. Not Valinor, true, not where his mother and father were, not where he'd grown up, nor where his brothers had grown up after him, not where he'd met and trained under Feonor, greatest perhaps of all the forgers of metal things, maker of gems more extraordinary than any others. But still, they were elven-made these walls before him. And they housed his brothers. They would soon house him again.
"Brothers! Brothers it is me, your brother! Let me in to embrace you! Let me in to see you!"
And the voice, one of many he had longed to hear called back. "Is it really you, my brother? Is it really you?"
"It is really I. Let me in, and I shall prove it to you!"
"Oh brother," that voice had replied "if only you had died …"
. . .
All of the ellon hardened including his eyes. If only I had died … Well, perhaps I have.
He dropped to his knees, like he had that night, but in a heavier, angrier despair. Every line of his form was hard. But then the water enveloped him. There was a rush going around his skin and through his hair. So cool, so … moving, stripping away the sand grains clinging to him taking away their slight irritation …
Slowly, his muscles relaxed despite the water's chill. He held out his arms and splayed his fingers out in the direction the water ran. To the sea … these waters run to the sea. And then the tears joined those waters as they went toward Valinor, where he could not go … At least his tears might lap against those shores.
I'm sorry, mother, father … I am sorry. I left thee both for naught and you shall not see your sons again. I'm sorry. But I am dead. They shall soon be too. And even now, I am not your son, not their brother. I am now someone else now.
He rose up, standing in the water and looked down again upon the reflection of … Celuant …
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ScribeofHeroes