As mentioned over in my own journal, I'm resuming my Daily Drabble Project. While I can't promise that they will be posted daily, I'll try to make at least one post per week containing that week's drabbles.

Prompted by aria_elwen: What if Morgoth had stolen the Silmarils but Finwe had lived?

Two drabbles, PG for non-graphic mentions of violence, AU. 100 words each according to Open Office.



Discovery

Pressed into return to Formenos, the fortress met him ruined from the gloom. The gates twisted, one guard shattered, another an empty husk. The steel doors to the treasure chamber forced, and the casket

-- the Silmarili --

gone.

The room tilted and shifted and spun; he staggered. Voiced jabbered outside, where is the King, where is

--- his father ---

gone.

A fall forward into dark.

And then, torchlight flickering across rose marble. Arms around him, always steady and reliable. Head rested on chest, rough brocades against his cheek, tremors underneath:

Packed full of life, his father's heart beats.



Fires

In Tirion the fires burn, singe stones black, and throw red, dancing shadows. The Kings sit in council, advise faith and patience, but the largest fire of all burns in the palace courtyard, and Fëanáro, hearkening to his father and doomed to idleness, tends it.

The Valar might as well be stone as they gather under leafless branches. Nienna weeps on Ezellohar. Yavanna sings. They harvest fire.

A message speeds to Tirion, where the fires burn higher now, and people grow afraid that the dark shall never end: 'To Curufinwë Fëanáro, greetings. We request his assistance in a mighty work...'

Continued here.