silwritersguild | Dunedenith - The First Age (Reply)

Title: Dunedenith - The First Age
Author:

elvenpiratelady
Rating: Teens
Warnings: Some mentions of violence.
Word Count: Each drabble is exactly 100 words long (thank you, Windows word counter).
Summary: A set of drabbles about mortal women of the First Age.
AN: All the characters belong to Tolkien. All feedback is appreciated. The title is Sindarin and means ‘women of the west’.

Haleth

Eight days it has been since my father and brother were killed by orcs, and seven since my mother died from a poisoned arrow-wound, although Elvish medicine might have saved her. Where were you when this began, prideful son of Fëanor? You arrived only in time to drive the dregs of the host away, and to watch us bury our dead.

And now you offer us your protection! – but I refuse, for I will not stay in this land. Whatever the danger, I will take my chances in the wilds of Beleriand – I have had my fill of Noldorin friendship.

Emeldir

Another night with no fires, another watch spent staring into the dark. Emeldir lets the night hide her fears, her doubts, her grief.

Furious, she glares at Barahir. ‘Do you think me craven? I will not leave my home!’

‘Dorthonion is lost,’ he says bluntly, ‘but its people must go on.’

‘Let me stay,’ she begs, ‘let me die beside you.’

‘No, love. If I am to die, let it be knowing that I have guarded your path as best I could.’

Morwen comes to take her place soon after, and she is grateful that the dark hides her face.

Morwen Eledhwen

They are a striking pair, the Lord of Dor-lómin and the Lady of Dorthonion. When seen together, they seem like contrast itself – he laughing in the sunlight, she silent in the shadows. She has been asked many times: why are you marrying him? Her answers are what they expect to hear: because he is an honourable man, because the marriage will strengthen both their houses.

But she loves Húrin because, like the sun, he defines her and makes her strong. And she now walks in fear because, like the sun, he will leave one day, leaving her in the dark.

Aerin

They would remember me as the weak-willed woman who stood aside when the Easterlings came. They would remember me as Brodda’s puppet wife, who bore two dead children and another who did not live to see a month. They would remember me as a traitor to her people.

It is better, then, that they do not remember me. I am afraid of pain, but not death – I have not truly lived since the barbarians overran my country. The fire will purge Dor-lómin, and I will burn away to oblivion in this Easterling hall, and they will breathe freely once more.

Rían

She has not cried since her husband rode to war and never came back. Tears will not undo the past or save her country. She can see that Dor-lómin is doomed, even if Morwen, who is as stubborn as a mule and as proud as a lion, cannot. She has lost her husband to the Easterlings, and she will not let them take her child too. She is sure she carries a son, and she has left for his sake. It is better, surely, for him to be an outlaw in the wilds, rather than a slave in his homeland.

Nienor Níniel

‘Why did you name me Mourning?’ Nienor demands, and watches in frustration as her mother calmly continues to sew.

‘You had lost a father and a brother. It seemed appropriate.’

‘But I didn’t know them. I couldn’t mourn for them. Why did you truly name me?’ Nienor persists.

Morwen looks up for the first time. For a moment, there is another girl behind her daughter, her hair like sunlight, and there is an echo of laughter. The vision fades, but there is the knowledge of what might have been, had fate been kinder… ‘I had my reasons,’ she says quietly.