Preface: I must confess I was disappointed by latest Tolkien screen adaptation, so I thought to myself, if I as a Tolkien geek were to write a screen-friendly and non-geek-friendly (and modern audience-friendly) telling of the Second Age, how would I do it? This fanfic is my answer… (and by modern I mostly just added more females (and a few males) in for some fun non-canon minor characters) …Ok not sure how screen-friendly this really is, but it is a fun way to kill time at my very slow desk job. It has also ended up being mostly focused on Elrond, hence the title I decided to give it.
Note: Trying to depict magic in a way that's visually interesting but still (tries to, at least) honor the Tolkien-verse as written is definitely a challenge. This is what I came up with, but suggestions are welcome… :)
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Of Elrond and Friends
Tales of the Second Age
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~ Part One ~
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New Beginnings
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By the mild inlet waters of a great harbor that the elves called the Gulf of Luhn, a gathering of high leaders and their people sat in the audience of a minstrel on a warm summer's eve amid a new town still under construction. All around them, from tree boughs and ropes strung from tall poles, hung the bright blue lamps of the smith elves of the West, and the soft yellow lamps of woodland elves of the East. More such lamps glittered in the high hills surrounding the bay where others of their folk were gathered among themselves for songs and festivity and good cheer in the early evening. Before them the rising moon and emerging stars lit the calm waters of the bay, whose soft splashing waves called to their hearts with the siren song of the sea by day and night.
Before this gathering the minstrel sat with his harp and gave a song of the great battle which had concluded not long before. He sang of sadness and sacrifice and valor and victory, mentioning those elves who had all joined the vast host of gods and angels and elves and dwarves and mortals that marched to vanquish the foul servants of the one they called Morgoth, captured at last after the many long years of suffering and destruction and death he inflicted on his enemies, and who was now finally banished into the Void. The singer was a powerful minstrel, and by the arts of his enchanted voice there appeared before their eyes a vision of that great battle in a phantasm of figures of dancing light: the valiant kings and knights, and the armies of orcs and onslaught of dragons, and the fleet of eagles who came to the rescue.
At length the minstrel finished his song, and the audience moved on to their meal. It was a feast of celebration for the gathering of their peoples, small by their usual custom, but there they raised their cups to new beginnings. As the weather was fair the tables were set outside, on a field near the shores of the inlet, not far from the stone and wood bones of the new dwellings still in progress which at the moment lay quiet for the night. At the head of the central table sat the elven king. Tall and fair he was, fairest elf lord to now walk the world east of the sea, and he was wearing a crown of branches of full green leaves adorned with summer wildflowers which could be found in the fields and hills at that time of year.
"Your crown is lovely, cousin, but not quite fitting for a son of the greatest jewel smiths to walk the world," said the king's kinswoman Galadriel.
The king laughed and smiled grandly. "It will do, good lady, in honor of the woodland folk who have gathered to us and serve us and fight with us. But I do have plans for another. Celebrimbor has offered to pay a visit to the remnant community of dwarves of the lost realm of Belegost and what remains of the dwarf kingdom there, to commission or ask for guidance in fashioning a new one."
Now Galadriel stood and made a toast to her kinsman. "To Gil-galad, high king of the elves of Middle-earth! Long may he reign here in peace and happiness!" she called out, which earned a round of cheers and applause from their fellow diners. And the king toasted to her in turn, and also to their more distant kinsmen, the brothers Elrond and Elros - the four of them together the last children of the mighty elven kings in Middle-earth who had perished in the First Age.
As they began to dine and converse, Galadriel brought up a subject of concern which weighed on her mind. "My king," she said, "the defeat of our greatest foe at long last is an occasion for great celebration indeed. But let us not forget his dreadful lieutenant who fled from the judgment of the gods into hiding."
This earned a round of sighs and grunts and boos. "Enough! Enough for now!" came a call from across the table.
Lord Celeborn laughed softly. "Spoil not the joyful mood, dearest!" he said to his wife.
Círdan, lord of the elf mariners who was also dwelling among them, came to her defense. "But indeed we should not forget it, my friends," he said. "Such a foe is likely to grow formidable again before long."
The king laughed merrily. "Tomorrow, my friends!" he called. "I have not forgotten. I am young by your measure, but do not think me so unwise as that. Let us meet on it, in the morning. Allow our peace and happiness to last one evening at least!"
To that their guests gave a roaring round of cheers and applause. And deep into the night their people continued their singing and dancing and tale-telling as elves so love to do, and it was long before they at last retired to rest.