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tolkien100Author: Himring
Source / Fandom: Silmarillion (Akallabeth)
Rating: Teens
Warnings: canon-typical background for the last days of Numenor; allusion to a specific person burned by Sauron in the Temple fire.
Characters: Tar-Miriel (Miriel, rightful heir to the throne of Numenor)
Disclaimer: The tale of the Downfall of Numenor is Tolkien's; this scene is not. The drabble alludes to motifs from The Rings of Power, but embeds them in a book-canonical setting.
Author notes: Late fill for the Summer Storms prompt. Also written for the current SWG challenge.
Miriel woke from another dream in which a snowstorm of summer blossom transmuted into a deadly avalanche of water.
Comes rather late, she murmured.
Nimloth had burned in the fire, the fire that had taken her last trusted confidante.
She pushed herself up. Flames seemed to lick the wall hanging delicately woven by many hands. She had stared too long into Sauron’s fire and could seem to see little else than flames now, awake. She might as well be blind.
Tiles cracked under her feet. Had the endless storm hanging above them finally broken? Was it time to run yet?
[Nimloth is the name of the White Tree of Numenor, whose fate was linked to the Royal House.]
Source / Fandom: Silmarillion (Akallabeth)
Rating: Teens
Warnings: canon-typical background for the last days of Numenor; allusion to a specific person burned by Sauron in the Temple fire.
Characters: Tar-Miriel (Miriel, rightful heir to the throne of Numenor)
Disclaimer: The tale of the Downfall of Numenor is Tolkien's; this scene is not. The drabble alludes to motifs from The Rings of Power, but embeds them in a book-canonical setting.
Author notes: Late fill for the Summer Storms prompt. Also written for the current SWG challenge.
Miriel woke from another dream in which a snowstorm of summer blossom transmuted into a deadly avalanche of water.
Comes rather late, she murmured.
Nimloth had burned in the fire, the fire that had taken her last trusted confidante.
She pushed herself up. Flames seemed to lick the wall hanging delicately woven by many hands. She had stared too long into Sauron’s fire and could seem to see little else than flames now, awake. She might as well be blind.
Tiles cracked under her feet. Had the endless storm hanging above them finally broken? Was it time to run yet?
[Nimloth is the name of the White Tree of Numenor, whose fate was linked to the Royal House.]
