elvenpiratelady | Elf: Twenty Prompts drabbles

These prompts of ours must have flicked a switch in my brain, because I wrote five drabbles for them in the space of about two hours. For some reason I got a very strong Galadriel vibe off them, so mine are going to be about her. Warning: the following drabbles contain Silmarillion and Unfinished Tales references, but they worm their way into just about all of my LOTR fics.

'Scarlet and Silver'

Prompt 1: love, word count: 149

Was this love? she thought as Fëanor’s eyes followed her. His mind burned, constantly forging ideas, smelting them, tempering them. She would not love a man who knew no other way of meeting minds but overpowering them, she decided, and refused him when he asked for a lock of her hair.

Was this love? she thought as Celebrimbor watched her in Eregion, his work-roughened hands closing over hers as he gave her the Elessar still warm from the forge. She would not love a man who lived in his grandfather’s shadow, she decided, and refused him when he asked for her hand.

Was this love? she thought as she danced with Celeborn under the stars, only their fingertips touching – and she banished the question from her mind, along with all other suitors.

If this was not love, she did not think that she had any use for the emotion.

Prompt 2: fear, word count: 143

She had never feared for herself – after all, she could fight as well as any man with sword, spear and bow, and with Nenya on her finger and Melian’s teachings, she kept the darkness at bay in her own mind and others. She was never afraid for her own sake – it was her family she feared for instead. Brothers, cousins, her daughter and grand-daughter: all lost because she could not protect them.

Never-the-less, it was herself that she was afraid for now.

Starlight turned the ring in the halfling’s hand to cold silver. She reached out… One moment, so tense she thought she might shatter, and the next, slowly breathing again in relief. She glanced down at her hand – it was empty.

I do not have to fear myself anymore, she thought, and laughed as a wind from the west brushed her face.

Prompt 3: sword, word count: 150

Her teeth jarred as the swords came together, and the clash left her ears ringing, but she persisted, parrying the next blow. Lightly, she stepped around her opponent until the light was at her back and then moved forward, pressing her advantage. Her adversary gave way, and overconfident, she prepared for a killing blow – only to have her sword jerked from her hand, clattering across the yard.

She muttered a most unladylike curse.

‘I’m sure Father would be interested to learn where you heard that.’ Aegnor pulled off his helmet, smiling at her. ‘You’re learning fast, Artanis. You might even best me one day.’

---

Eärwen shook her head as she watched her children from the window. ‘I still don’t know what she sees in it.’

‘Neither do I, for that matter.’ Finarfin smiled as his daughter went to retrieve her weapon. ‘But if she enjoys it, what’s the harm?’

Prompt 4: family, word count: 146

The names matched her plodding feet as they crossed the land. Aegnor, Angrod, Finrod, Orodreth – gone. Finduilas, her shy niece – gone. Her cousins: valiant Fingon, wise Turgon, proud Aredhel – gone. The cursed Fëanorians – gone, and good riddance.

Only Gil-galad would be left to tell her story, and she hoped Finarfin would not stoop to regicide. She hated the way it looked, the spoilt daughter fleeing from her father’s admonitions, but there was no other way.

In fact, it was not that at all.

Her father, whose kindness carried more weight than his anger – he would want her to return to Valinor, and she did not know if she was strong enough to refuse him.

Behind her, her followers’ feet kicked up the dust, leaving a trail that stretched across all Beleriand. Their leader turned her face to the east, and swore she would not regret this.

Prompt 5: red, word count: 103

After Alqualondë, it was an unspoken rule in her family that no-one would wear red. Nerwen would have sulked at the censure of her favourite colour, Artanis would have worn it head to toe in defiance, but Galadriel saw the wisdom of it and wore blues, greys, greens, whites – Sindar colours.

Time passed, and the colour became a memory. Elrond did not wear it, perhaps for the same reasons as her, and neither her daughter, husband nor grandsons had the right colouring. Something bloomed inside her, however, when she saw Arwen dressed in rubies and bright scarlet – passion, desire, a heart beating again.