#february ficlet challenge

[inexplicifics]

Lambert's correspondent is finally coming to visit. He's very eager, and not at all prepared.

I am doing a fic-writing challenge! I am going to try to post a fic from the challenge prompts Tuesday through Friday until I run out of prompts.

[searchingforserendipity25]

Diplomatic Concerns. (russingon, on ao3).

When they did at last come together, it did not feel like an inevitability to Maedhros. Far easier it was to believe - to contrive - ways in which they might betray themselves, and allow their understanding to betray their people.

This, they both agreed, could not be permitted. Maedhros would have loved Fingon less, if he had been willing to brave the storm of opposition and defiance their open courtship would cause.

His people had cause, just cause to stand against it; and Maedhros had his own brothers and vassals to rule over, in less official fashion, without the benefit of official authority to put them in place if it prove needed.

They pledged their troth under the stars, a wordless promise with no bitter oath to mar it; and thereafter took the greatest care and discretion that none guessed at it.

-

It was some effort, Maedhros admitted, if only in their very secretive correspondence, written on hidden wink in the back of their official missives.

His mouth ached, his arms felt emptier - poetry, he found, spoke to him beyond the pleasure of precise meter and rhyme.

It was absurd; it was dangerous. Always he kept Fingon swept from his mind, lest some of his heart bleed through enough to be perceived; and always it was work, to keep Fingon out of the forefront of his thinking.

And it was mortifying, too. To be infatuated, to have a joy to hide, to know himself cherished and desired - he could not have bourne it to be known, not easily.

It was only some consolation to know Fingon found his pining ardor very pleasing, being that he was at too great a distance to do much with that. As a matter of fact, it made it all the more torturous.

This lasted all through the first fortnight of the autumn summit.

Maglor looked at him indulgently. “How many horses can Fingon possibly need? Nay, not at all. You must give him the best foal, and rear it by your hand, and drape it in Fingon’s raiment and colours, and teach it the signals he favours. Quality, not merely quantity! Do you hear me wasting breath on too many love songs? There must be a measure, by which things are made precious.” 

“You were song-wed by proxy fashion to an ascetic zither-master you knew from correspondence only, and met thrice every ten yéni,” Maedhros told him. 

Maglor shrugged. “Once every ten yéni was enough. It made the anticipation all the sweeter.” 

Maedhros raised all three colts to perfect training. If some of his braids were chewed away, and much of the fur of his best coats, then at least Fingon was suitably impressed.

-

None guesses at our affections, Maedhros amended on his next letter, besides Maglor, and his silence is our boon. Fingon was swift to tease him for that - and in truth he had barely bothered to hide it from Maglor.

There was little use; therefore he worried little. All the rest of his brothers held their own domains, were occupied with their duties - if it became pressing, he could always invent a new task to distract their tracks.

He had forgotten Caranthir. Caranthir never needed to be given new directions; if anything, he excelled at taking attentive initiative, especially on matters of international commerce.

“I,” Maedhros said. “Have never offered any thing, to lord or vassal, besides gifts of friendship, and diplomacy, and cunning morsels of what might attained with a better trade arrangement.” 

“Explain to me how Fingon’s newest gem-crown counts as a diplomatic expense,” Caranthir demanded.

-

Besides Caranthir and Maglor, none noticed. 

The next time they met - a well-prepared hunting retreat, and the anticipation did have a certain strain of pleasure in it - it was only some time after the first enthusiastic greetings that they found time and patience to speak at lenght about their dealings, those small or great matters they had not trusted even to set to hidden writing.

 "Did you -”

"I told none. Besides those who know."

“Are you entirely certain. Amras and Amrod keep sending me cured meats? Excellent sausages for my table, and lovely truffles. For some reason; they did not last year.”

"They are not poisoned," Maedhros assured automatically. Then hesitated. "They do like to experiment with spices and certain powders, however."

"I noticed," Fingon said, mouth curved. It was a lovely smile, better for being not amused; Maedhros suffered the rather stupid instinct to kiss his cheek. "Around the time the sugared mushrooms caused an apparition of a great mammoth grazing upon my father's head as we sat in public Council. It appeared purple to my eyes, the mammoth; also my father."

Maedhros had suffered great torments of the flesh and spirit; the image made him wince with genuine feeling. Fingolfin kept a very eclectic conjunction of lords near him, Sindar and Noldor and Avari, all of them clever, cunning, far-seeing people with an unhappy habit of keeping a wide awareness to every stray thought that they might fish out slyly round them on a wide range of space. It made Maedhros feel unusually warmly towards his straightforward, stone-silent dwarves and the fierce, scarred, closed minds that came to serve Himring. 

"You need to string them up from a high tower," Maedhros concluded. "You shall have their apologies in a season."

"Need is a strong word," said Fingon. But his mouth was twitching, more genuinely.

Through the place where their spirits pressed together he passed on the faint, kaleidoscopic memories of that afternoon - Maedhros had stifle his own crinkling eyes. It was impossible not to admit Fingolfin did look rather fetching in tints of purple; and the mammoth was very realistic.

"If you want them to redeem themselves, have them send more next year. I would rather have enjoyed them in privacy. Lalwen thought it was very amusing. Eventually; she stole the rest of the bounty, and left me none at all, which was very like her and rather a disappointment. If your brothers are found wandering the wilds naked and intoxicated, you shall find no way to prove it was her work."

"They will enjoy it too much." Maedhros thought of when the twins's nonsense had been joyful, once. And involved less paperwork. The worst of it was that they likely thought it a good gift.The twins had ever liked Fingon well enough, as much as they liked anyone outside their enclosing understanding.

Fingon turned around, with that sweeping grace that made him deadly. In a moment he had rolled them over. His hands dug into the loam around Maedhros's head; his legs tangled in him, pressing down, delicious.

There you are, he thought, directly at Maedhros. No distance at all, and his laughing mind dizzying like a windfall, a sweeping rush. You stay away too often, Russandol, even here.

"Let them," he said, voice low and warm, close enough Maedhros could feel it thrum in his own throat. He was so very warm. Maedhros's whole body felt alive under him, as if he were fresh from a battle; as if it could feel alive and joyful with no violence. "I mean to enjoy myself with a clear mind. I mean to recall you perfectly while we are apart."

-

Maedhros, rather wisely, he thought, kept any commissioned tokens away from familiar forges.

It was a marvel, the inspiration which which Curufin could contrive as an insult. In this he truly was Fëanor's heir.

I will not have any of our Father's house be known for offering substandard works, he wrote, a stiff note of parchment atop a casket.

Inside the casket was a treasure - elf-made emeralds, and rubies, fine gleaming garnets that caught the golden light from the candles and would assuredly shine beauteously strung around golden ribbons, and on the chained earrings Fingon favoured.

 Keep those Dwarven pieces away from Fingolfin and his ilk, lest he rethink our work agreements. Have you lost your sense, along with your shame? Findekáno's not the least suited to Belegost's blue-steel and sapphires, they wash him out terribly, I do not know how Fingolfin can be so tasteless in his heraldry as not to consider it.

-

Maedhros recalled a time when his brother at least pretended to attend to elvish mores, those small contrivances of decent conduct. Such as pretending at ignorance. Pretending at ignorance had been a good habit, one Huan's master remembered these days merely when it was convenient for him.

Celegorm only looked at him in a flat vulpine fashion, nostrils flaring. Worse than a smirk, worse than mischief. Maedhros had seen it turned on others often enough; he could not say he enjoyed the very unpleasant awareness with which it remind everyone of all the passionate embraces they may or may not have indulged in the wild, where a little bird might carry gossip, or a finicky squirrel pass on mockery.

It also made him rethink the wisdom of wearing Fingon's undershirt under his tunic.

"Not a word," he ordered.

Celegorm only whistled in wolf-like fashion and darted away from his swing.

The next time Fingon dared him for a swim after a lengthy ride up the hills of Barad Eithel, Maedhros quite ruined the romance of it all by insisting on raising a tarp-and-leather tent beforehand.

-

Huan had the good grace to wait until they passed each other on an empty corridor before stopping to block his path.

Oromë's hunting hound looked at him with those terribly knowing dark eyes and let out a soft snorting sound. It was not a very approving woof; a little mournful, perhaps. Maedhros did not speak Hound.

"Do not you start also," Maedhros said. His tone held little effort, as it ever did in these cases.

He had to fight the instinct to cross his arms. He refused to be easily biddable or intimidated. As a matter of principle; he had few of those, and it tended to be better to keep to those he did maintain.

Woof-woof, said Huan.

"We are all Doomed regardless," argued Maedhros.

A sniff, rather pointed. A little charming, perhaps - none of his brothers had offered, so far.

"It is very generous of you to offer," Maedhros said. "No biting will be necessary. I would rather Fingon whole as he may."

Huan licked his bad arm. Shifting ears, which, in all honesty, were insulting. 

"I am not letting myself be carried off as a mate to establish a new collective dynamic as pertaining previous intra-community competitions," Maedhros said, rather stiffly. "No, not though I was stolen from the Enemy for that purpose."

Maedhros did not speak Hound, as such; but Huan and him understood each other a little. If anyone was going to look at him with the knowledge that Maedhros would have let himself be carried off as a prize, and possibly did not dislike the notion, he would rather it was him.

"I will bring you some of that good hind meat from Dor-Lómin," he conceded, eager to bribe him away.

Huan's dog-grin finally widened. Maedhros, relieved to be free from evaluation, scratched his chin until his wagging tail was thumping the carpet. Some relatives, he thought, were harder to please than others.

-

"We have failed at every avenue," Maedhros concluded, as displeased as he could stand to be just then. "Let this be not a sign of our joined efforts to come!"

Fingon was rather less moved at their failure than Maedhros would have expected. Possibly that was the effort of the long ride to the fortress, and their - reunion. Maedhros did not want him alarmed and on his feet, as such; but he did eye his complacence a little.

"Brothers are not Balrogs. It could be worse," Fingon said, very confidently.

Maedhros lifted his head from Fingon's chest. His own eyes were growing half-lidded; his muscles too felt weary, suffused still with satisfaction. Himring's walls, warm within like a living body, rumbled faintly with the noise of their gaseous pipes. He was warm, and sated, and all in all quite in accord with the form of the world, at least for the foreseeable candle-mark.

It was only that he had not trusted messengers to pass on the news; and he had felt an urgency to share the state of affairs with Fingon for months. They had determined to be fully discreet.

"How?"

"Turgon and Aredhel might return," Fingon said promptly. His voice showed he had considered the matter at great length, and was very amused by the way Maedhros went still against him. "And be less generous with their blindness than the rest of my - our kin."

"They might not have noticed. Your father has not."

Fingon lifted himself on his elbow, and looked at him, a little pityingly.

"Beloved," he said. "Whom do you think invented the art of invisible writing?"

[leaderpinhead]

Leona - Checkmate

Prompt: Only One Bed

“I know we just had to prove ourselves worthy to grace you with our gross herbivore presence, but now we have another issue.”

Leona snorted but otherwise pretended not to hear her. He used the excuse of being in the bathroom. Just like his sister-in-law, Yuu had no issues with continuing to nag him. “Do you think ignoring me will make the problem go away? I have enough experience to tell you life doesn’t work that way.”

Leona clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. When they drifted back down to the mirror, he caught the reflection of the prefect and her pet in the bedroom behind him. Grim circled in and out of the room from the balcony like he couldn’t get over the view of the dorm. The prefect stood at the foot of the bed with her hands propped on her hips and her gaze steadfastly fixed in the direction of the bathroom. Her brown eyes met his in the mirror without hesitation.

Leona quickly glanced away. Not because he was intimidated, but because he had inadvertently dropped the brush he held. Yes, that was his excuse.

“You’re the one who insisted on staying here,” Leona snapped. He tossed the brush onto the counter and prowled around the large bathroom. He moved out of the view of the mirror and tossed a towel onto the floor just because he felt like it.

“Now I see why your room is such a mess. I almost feel sorry for Ruggie having to clean up after you, but then I remember he benefits from it just as much as you do.”

Nagging—why were all women of every species such experienced naggers? “If you have a problem, why don’t you go room with the puppy?”

“I’d prefer Jack, but you know why that isn’t possible.”

Leona huffed, but he didn’t argue on the point. He did understand why. He might have made her fight to earn the right to room with him while Azul manipulated his contracts, but he had known letting her room anywhere else in the dorm wasn’t an option. He’d heard the whispers circulating the dorm as more and more students realized the prefect was a girl in disguise.

He was quick to put those other boys in their places, especially when the whispers made even his stomach churn.

Ruggie’s snickers reminded Leona of the hyena’s presence outside the bathroom. “You three have fun figuring that all out. I’ll be back to see who still alive in the morning. Shyeheehee.”

Leona’s ears flicked when Jack mumbled a farewell too. He heard the obvious click of the bedroom door. Soft shuffling signaled the prefect and Grim moving around his room. Leona fiddled with the tubes and containers he found on the sink counter. His nose wrinkled when he picked up one container. Why the hell had Ruggie bought him a warthog scented candle?

“If you’re planning on spending the night in your bathtub, then I guess our problem isn’t as big as I thought it was.”

Leona grumbled and tossed the offensive smelling candle into the wastebasket. He sighed when he caught the prefect still glowering at him in the mirror. Clicking his tongue again, Leona ambled out of the bathroom. He tipped his chin back and scowled down at the prefect. “You should learn to show some gratitude. I could’ve sent you straight back to your dorm to deal with Azul’s lackeys.”

Yuu’s chin tipped back to meet his gaze. His eyes narrowed. Did she think she could intimidate him? He might—on occasion—bow to his sister-in-law's nagging just to get her off his back, but he certainly wasn’t about to do the same for a little herbivore.

The prefect tipped her head without breaking his gaze. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have thanked you. Your benevolence is second only to Azul’s. After all, had you not given me—a magicless little girl with only her monster companion—the opportunity to fight a group of thugs who used magic more than their fists, I would not only be sleeping in front of the statues on Main Street tonight.” Yuu paused to show him the bandage wrapped around her elbow. “I would also have never earned this new battle scar.”

Leona rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “Battle scar? It was barely a scrape. You wouldn’t even have that bandage if Howl hadn’t been so dramatic about an infection.”

What he didn’t say was that he was actually impressed by their victory. Yuu had an almost uncanny instinct when it came to dodging magical attacks, not to mention the dexterity to perform the dodges. Grim’s offense was grudgingly impressive too, but his lack of focus would be his downfall. If Yuu hadn’t snapped at him to focus on one boy before moving to the next, they wouldn’t have won the duel. Leona hadn’t given them any handicaps either. Two of the boys were sophomores and the other a junior, meaning they had more experience than the average freshman when it came to a magical duel.

None of which he was about to admit to her.

“The point is that my scar has made me an official badass.” Yuu pointed at the bedding Jack had thrown down in the corner of the room. “As a badass, I refuse to sleep on the floor.”

Leona pointed at the couch sitting in front of the balcony. “Then take the sofa.”

“That sofa is barely long enough to fit Grim. Do you want me to suffer a hunchback?”

“It would add to your badass image.”

“It would also hinder me as I run around campus cleaning up all of your messes.”

Leona snorted. He ambled across the room to stand on the opposite side of the bed from Yuu. He relaxed his posture, and while he didn’t exactly match hers—hands on her hips and chin held high—he made it clear he wasn’t backing down. “My messes? Last I checked, you’re in this situation because your own little friends made a mess, and then you decided to throw yourself into the fire.”

“And as punishment, I frequently remind my friends of their bad decisions. Grim?” Grim made a noise from the balcony. “The sea anemone on your head makes you look dumb. Like a midget unicorn but without the badass part.”

Leona bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking at Grim’s howling displeasure. He took the prefect’s distraction as an opportunity to flop down into the center of his bed. He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. “Your problems aren’t mine. Just be grateful I’ve given you a place to stay.”

He was on the very edge of sleep when Yuu chimed, “You know, Cheka wouldn’t be very happy to hear his uncle made his fiancé sleep on the floor.”

Leona cracked open one eye. The prefect still hovered next to the bed, her eyes now wide to mimic some type of innocence. His tail agitatedly flicked to the side. “Seriously? You’re trying to play that card again? The brat has no idea about what he writes in his letters. I doubt he even knows what the word fiancé means.”

“Sade says she’s very excited to one day welcome me into your family.”

Leona’s tail flicked harder. Of course, his sister-in-law was communicating with the prefect too. Sade had probably adopted the girl already. She probably told the prefect to make his school life even more inconvenient too.

“I wonder what she would say about you making me sleep on the floor now,” Yuu continued. She did a little spin and took one step in the direction of the bedding on the floor. “How very uncouth for the son of a king. Making a poor little girl sleep on the hard floor while he sprawls across a bed that could easily fit three people his size. And her son is being so heavily influenced by such a role model? I’m sure she’ll be absolutely thankful when I tell her—.”

With a tiny growl, Leona rolled over to lay on the edge of the bed. He took one of his pillows and plopped it down in the middle of the bed. He turned his back to her and glared out at the balcony. “Stay on your side of the bed.”

Yuu hummed with satisfaction. Leona’s ears flicked as he listened to her drag the blankets and pillows over to the bed. His tail twitched when the mattress jostled to accommodate the new weight beside him. After the prefect called for Grim to join her, Leona made a point of reaching for the light switch on the wall next to his bed. His two temporary roommates continued to wiggle and mutter in the dark. He didn’t close his eyes until the wiggling and mumbling stopped and Grim’s snores started.

“Leona?” Leona emitted a tiny growl. He was starting to question ever entertaining Jack on the prefect’s current living conditions. “Thanks. For real this time. You’re not that bad when you’re not throwing a temper tantrum.”

Leona grabbed one of the pillows beneath his head and whipped it behind him. Yuu yipped when the pillow connected. Leona tucked the pillow back into place and ignored Grim’s yowls about being caught up in “their feud.” “Shut up already and let me sleep.”

Yuu couldn’t stand him having the last word, so she threw one of her pillows at him. More wiggling ensued, and Grim mumbled his complaints before his snores started again. Leona closed his eyes, but for once, sleep didn’t immediately come to him. His ears flicked in the prefect’s direction.

With a quiet huff, he carefully shifted onto his back. With the help of the soft moonlight drifting in through the open windows, Leona could easily see Yuu quietly staring up at the ceiling. Grim slept curled up on her chest, and her breathing had slowed to match the monster’s, though it still wasn’t enough to simulate a natural sleep.

Leona dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers encountering a flicking ear. “If you weren’t planning on sleeping, then what was the point of fighting over the bed?”

“I just wanted to see if Sade was right,” Yuu answered without hesitation. She kept her voice barely above a whisper. “Apparently, you’ve never told her no.”

“Because if I ever did, she wouldn’t stop nagging me.”

“I think deep down, you’re just a big cuddly kitten.”

Leona clicked his tongue. His tail flicked across the pillow barrier between them. “A big cuddly kitten? You have no sense of self-preservation, do you?”

“Well, I could’ve attempted stabbing Floyd in the eye with a pencil and kicking Jade in the shin, but a tiny voice in the back of my head reminded me I didn’t necessarily want to leave the campus the same way I arrived.”

Leona snorted to cover an aborted chuckle. He obnoxiously yawned. His tail flicked back and forth from his side to hers. “How do you expect me to get a decent night’s sleep while sleeping next to a mouth breather?”

“Sorry, but I’m still mastering the art of breathing through my ears.”

Leona flicked his tail hard enough to brush against her arm. “Smartass.”

“Better than being a dumbass, but mediocre compared to badass.” She fell silent, but her shuffling made Leona’s ears flick. Her quiet sigh was inevitable. “Sorry. Aside from the change in scenery, I tend to have a hard time falling asleep most nights. I don’t actually mind sleeping on the ground if it’s too disruptive for you.”

The desire to snap at her to do just that died on his tongue the moment he imagined the disappointed glare from his sister-in-law. With a loud sigh, Leona rolled off the edge of the bed. He clicked on the small lamp on his desk. He glowered down at the bed. Yuu squinted back at him, Grim now tucked up against her hip. Leona made a show of kicking out the chair beneath his desk and flopped into it. The prefect leaned up just enough to keep squinting at him from above the pillows.

He shoved the chessboard on his desk towards the corner closest to the bed. He arranged the black and white chess pieces on their respective sides. “You prefer white or black?”

Yuu didn’t miss a beat when she climbed over the pillow barrier to sit on the edge of the bed. She twirled the board around, so the black pieces were on her side. “Do you normally give people the option?”

“It’s a courtesy,” Leona drawled. He slouched into his chair and balanced his elbow on the desk to give his cheek a resting place on his knuckles. “A show of good sportsmanship.”

Yuu snorted. She twirled the board again to regain possession of the white pieces. “Because you're so good at showing sportsmanship-like behavior.”

“I’m not above kicking you out of the bed if you annoy me too much.”

Yuu hummed. She spun the board a few times before letting it rest at an angle where both sides were somehow equally stuck between them. Her head slightly tilted. “I don’t know how to play chess.”

Leona released a loud sigh. He pushed the corner of the board until he gained possession of the white pieces. His ears flicked when he picked up the faint noise of the rowdier students trickling in from the dorms below. “Watch closely then because I’m not about to have a three-hour tutor session with you.”

They were on their fourth game when Yuu began picking up how each piece moved, which wasn’t too bad since each game only took Leona four moves to win. He still beat her with the same four moves for the next three games, but her frustration over him casually checkmating her king made her a quick learner. The next time they reset the board, she moved her knight to intersect his opening pawn. He still won, but she at least lasted three more moves.

By the time Yuu began to yawn in earnest, Leona was begrudgingly enjoying himself. She had become braver with her queen and had attempted several times to use it like some martyr-like sacrifice to somehow checkmate his king. Her strategies were laughable as a beginner, but they were just odd enough to make her less predictable than a veteran. She’d come close to checkmating him once but hadn’t even realized it. He wasn’t about to casually offer her the information either.

On her next turn, she stared at the board long enough with drooping eyelids that Leona couldn’t help saying, “Just give me your king, so we can go to sleep.”

Her eyes snapped up to his. The soft light of the lamp made the golden freckles hidden in her brown irises flicker. “Never.”

Leona firmly checkmated her in the next two moves. She squinted down at the board while he fluidly stood. He reached above his head in a long stretch. “You’re done. Now get on your side so I can finally sleep.”

Yuu huffed, but she complied with his demand with minimum fuss. Leona watched her stretch out on her side of the pillow barrier without bothering Grim, who had somehow wiggled his way down to the foot of the bed. She snuggled up under the extra blanket until only her nose was visible. Her posture, even hidden under the blanket, was much more relaxed than it had been earlier, and her annoying mouth breathing didn’t sound as obnoxious.

Leona quickly flopped onto the bed when he realized he had been staring too long.

“Good night,” Yuu yawned. Her voice was muffled because of the blanket, but he easily detected the slurred cadence of her words like she was already on the verge of sleep. “Chess’s s’more tiring than walking ‘round the campus. You’ll have to play me again. ‘Cause I’m gonna get good ‘nough to beat you.”

Leona snorted and clicked off the lamp. A comfortably dry breeze from the window loosened the suddenly stifling air in the room. “We’ll see about that.”

“Gonna take your queen.”

“It’s the king you have to checkmate.” Leona waited for her snarky comment. He peeked over the pillow when none came. Yuu slept curled on her side facing him. Her mouth was parted, and a gentle snore escaped with each breath she took. Leona huffed and dropped his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes. “Annoying little mouth breather.”

He wouldn’t admit to waking up once in the middle of the night when he couldn’t detect her snoring. He huffed in mild amusement when he found she had somehow flipped herself around and had her face buried in Grim’s belly. He flopped back onto his pillow and didn’t wake up again he until heard Ruggie whining about morning practice.

[swanmaids]

“Shepherds’ delight,” Maedhros remarked, watching the Sun set over the plains from Himring’s ramparts. 

Finally alone with Fingon, Maedhros had been mostly quiet after spending all day speaking with various allies – debating, strategizing, reassuring. This was the first thing he’d said for several minutes, talking over the pleasant quiet of the birdsong above them and the sentries below, and Fingon could not make sense of it. 

“Hmm?” 

“‘Red sky at night; shepherds' delight.’ It is a saying - one that Bór claims originates with his folk; many of them raise sheep. When the sky glows red at dusk, the following day will be fair.” 

“I see. So you’re longing for a shepherd’s life? I must say it’s a bit late in the day to be considering such a drastic change in fortunes, but I do concede that sheep are probably easier to wrangle than some of our relatives.” 

Maedhros elbowed him in the ribs. “And Maglor says I’m too literal,” he laughed. “But Fingon, don’t you see it? It seems to me that just as when the first Sun rose to greet your father’s coming into Middle Earth, this is another sign. We will have our victory – and our vengeance too.”

Fingon swallowed. His lover had never been one to put great stock in portents; and he thought it more likely that Maedhros was convinced in the success of his venture not because of the colour of the sky the night the Union had finalised their battle plans, but because he needed to be. The idea that they might fail was too terrible to be borne. 

But he was not unmoved by Maedhros’ speech – quite the opposite. Fingon burned too for vengeance against their shared enemy. If victory required putting faith in meteorological phenomena that he understood nothing of, then he would do it. 

“I think you are right, beloved – when the day comes, we will win it. I will return west swiftly, and make my people ready until then.” Then he smiled. “And once we have won, you can trade your sword for a shepherd’s crook. You can tend to all the sheep you want –”

Laughing, Maedhros shut him up with a kiss.

[februaryficletchallenge]

February Ficlet Challenge 2024: 24/7!

Welcome back! After having gotten an amazing 496 fics in 2023, we will be running another ficlet challenge in 2024!

This year's theme, because it is our seventh ficlet challenge and is in the year 2024, will be 24/7. There will be two prompts every day, of which one will have something to do with the concept of time.

The basic outline of the Ficlet Challenge remains the same, though you are welcome to modify any or all of these guidelines to better suit your writing style or your available spoons:

Make a list of 29 (!) pairings for which you want to write, one per day.

Check this Tumblr every day in February for a new set of prompts; you can write for either or both of the provided concepts!

Write a fic of at least 200 words, using the next pairing on your list - for hard mode, write it and post it the same day you see the prompt!

Post the fic to this collection on AO3. It will remain open until the end of the year, so don't worry if you don't finish all your fics in February.

Rejoice!

We hope you will enjoy this year's set of prompts, and look forward to seeing what you write!

[emyn-arnens]

In a Noon of Gold

“Come, come!” Nessa cried to her maidens. “Let us welcome the coming of spring with our dance!”

Her maidens spilled into the glade behind her, fleet as the deer that followed at their heels and clad in deerskin dresses of fawn and white. The strike of their feet upon the grass rang throughout the forest, and a great, drumming beat echoed around them, urging the forest awake, awake.

The distant strains of a joyous song carried through the woods and mingled with the sudden stirring of birdsong in the trees. A shiver ran through the glade as if the earth hearkened to the sound, shaking off its winter slumber.

Vána danced into the glade, ringed by her merry maidens, and flowers sprang at her passing. Golden beads of Laurelin’s dew clung to her bare arms, and she wore upon her brow a crown of the golden flowers that grew in her gardens.

Her maidens wove between Nessa’s in a whirling circle, and they sang a song of sunlight, calling forth the flowers from beneath the earth and awakening the trees from their long sleep. Laurelin’s light spilled over the forest, and it filled the glade with the golden haze of high noon, limning the dancers’ arms and faces with pale gold and gilding the dark branches of the trees.

Awake, awake drummed the feet of Nessa’s maidens upon the greensward. Awake, awake cried the voices of Vana’s maidens. Awake, awake rang their music through the wakening trees.

The forest stirred to life at their call, flushed with the splendor of the new-come spring. And Nessa, Vána, and their maidens danced and sang until all the woods of Valinor echoed with their music.

Also on AO3.

[siderealdei]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: Jango Fett, Obi-Wan Kenobi Additional Tags: Febuwhump 2024, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Caretaking Series: Part 8 of Febuwhump 2024, Part 6 of February Ficlet Challenge 2024 Summary:

Febuwhump Day 15: "Who did this to you?"

An injured superhero lands on the balcony of a notorious supervillain.

[whimsicalmeerkat]

long after midnight - teen wolf

On AO3

"You promised you would go to bed by midnight," Derek says, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows pinched.

"The last time I looked at the clock it was only ten, so technically I was probably asleep by midnight."

Stiles doesn’t know why Derek cares when he goes to bed. The answer isn’t what he expects.

Written for the @februaryficletchallenge prompt “midnight”.

[writerbythewater-blog]

The Lyoko Warriors worked hard to free Aelita from from her digital prison, and were all glad when she joined them in the real world. However there were some, well, odd habits she picked up in the digial world. They all helped her with things when they could, but Jeremie was the one who worried about it the most. Aelita had habit of trying to walk through wall and tried to unlock doors by waving her hand to open their code. She also kept calling them all warriors, or her protectors. Odd loved it, it made him feel important, but he understood that they really needed her to stop.

Missy kept side-eyeing Aelita, so Ulrich had to keep her eyes on him whenever she was around Aelita. Yumi and started taking Aelita to town more to practice doors away from the student body. Odd knew most of the school thought his weirdness was because of his family, so he started telling everyone Aelita was his cousin. A lot of her weird habits were written off as Odd's fault after that, but at least most of the student body stopped watching her.

Jeremie forged her papers, and enlisted her in the school as Odd's cousin. Hacking the schools network was child's play after working with Lyoko for so long, and freeing Aelita. Of course the Lyoko Warriors still had to fight against X.A.N.A, and Jeremie worried going between the two worlds made things harder for Aelita.

It took a few months, and a lot of help from the warriors, but Aelita got used to the real world. She stopped walking into walls, or trying to pull up code. In time the student body stopped watching her, and they were able to relax. Jeremie still worried about her, but the others knew that was because of his feeling for her. Aelita was safe. The Lyoko Warriors had done their job, and they would keep doing their job.

[tanis-fics]

Intermission

When Ash Jr. is trapped in a building shift incident and begins to freak out about his imminent death, the person who aids him is the least one he expects. The least helpful, too, but at the end of the day, Ash could really use a break. (A musical break, even)

Pairings: Theodore Ash Jr. & Ahti, Theodore Ash Jr. & Ahti & Oldest House ♦ Words: 1117 ♦ Notes: For the @februaryficletchallenge, prompt Trapped In An Elevator

[on ao3] ♦ [on squidgeworld] ♦ [read on site]

 When Dr. Theodore Ash Jr. first felt the elevator shake under his feet, and then stop menacingly, he immediately assumed he was going to die. Of course he was going to die after making the discovery of a lifetime, the cruel irony of it almost made him crack a smile; the fact that he could at least see the twisted beauty of the Oldest House in all its glory unlike his father before him almost brought him peace of mind, in those grim final moments.

 He took it in stride at first. Face it proudly like the bearer of his name should.

 Seeing the concrete surrounding him ad infinitum outside his fancy metal cage ever so slowly closing in, however, eventually panic began dawning on him.

 He couldn't die. Not now, of all times. He still had so many things to research, so many caves down in the Foundation to find and study. His friends, the Id, he couldn't just leave them all alone while the rest of his team (or, God forbid, Director Northmoor) probed the place without a care in the world.

 Breath began coming shallow as death started breathing on his neck. Trapped like an animal. No. Trapped like so many members of the Bureau by the shifting chimera of the building. Ash had been researching the energy leylines from the pillar, coming up with ways to stabilize it's uneasy entrails to avoid these senseless deaths, but maybe he had been far too late.

 As his windpipe closed in panic, Ash would have wanted to say that he hoped someone else took his investigations and finished his work for the Bureau. But he was just a coward, and his mind screamed for someone, anyone, to realize where he was and came help him.

"...Yksin sankar yöhön syvemmälle matkaa pois,

Se taakka hänen harteillaan kuin lupaus aina ois,"

 Jerking his head up, Ash recognized that faint melody before recognizing the accompanying voice. He couldn't see anything past the concrete, but the song came from a point somewhere above him. Swallowing, his throat hurt horrors, but he still croaked.

 "J, Janitor, is that you?" He cursed at himself for not remembering his name, despite his appreciation to the mysterious man. The singing stopped, and he felt panic rising again. "Are you there? Can you hear me?"

 Silence followed his many questions, until he heard his voice again, closer this time.

 "Doctor?" His thick accent brought a smile to his face, relief washing over him for a second. "Were you running with your head as your third leg, and got stuck in the walls?"

 He had no idea what that meant.

 "More or less, I suppose." He yelled back, voice breaking a bit at the end, and was met with a candid laugh. If it were anyone else, Ash would be enraged and humiliated, but the Fin's idiosyncrasies put his mind at ease, or as much as it could in that situation. The man had a surprisingly vast knowledge of the building, either inherent or learned, and if he could laugh in the jaws of danger maybe it wasn't as bad as he originally thought it was.

 Still, he was no God either.

 "Friend," he tried again, grabbing the metal curtain and facing the darkness from where the voice came from, "there was a shift in the building and I happened to get caught in the middle! I'll need you to call Security to get me out of here."

 "Yes, yes, do not worry, an emergency does not look like this. Ahti will make sure you get out of there, loose like a grandma's tooth." He sounded very sure of himself regardless of the wording, and Ash thanked him for that. Regardless, time started passing, with only the sound of the mop against the floor and the whistling of the man to fill it. Had... had he even called for help? He couldn't help but wonder, anxiously. Did he misjudge the strange man, misjudge Ahti? Or was he testing him? Could that be a test? "Eh. So nosy." The man called again, sounding... annoyed? Offended? "Don't wait as if waiting for the raising moon. You will not die. Not in an elevator, at least."

 Ash froze, but then sighed. Fine. If the Janitor said he wasn't going to die there, he couldn't possibly die there, he guessed, bittersweet.

 The walls stopped closing in, though.

 "That's right, perkele." He heard him say, proudly, yet probably to himself, before stating louder, in a way that seemed less and less like a suggestion. "Take a rest. It will do you good."

 Odd. What an odd fellow.

 Two peas in a pod, he supposed. The Janitor and the House.

 The Janitor and him, too.

 Resting his back on the opposite wall and sliding to the floor, Ash could swear he felt a rumbling on the elevator, and despite every logic and every alarm ringing on his mind he actually felt his fear slowly melting away, as his breath eventually slowed down too. The Fin's words ticked him, but he was tired, he couldn't remember the last time he took a break. The last time he allowed himself to take a break.

 Maybe he was safe. Call it good luck, or affinity, maybe the house wasn't going to swallow him alive. Not that day, at least.

 "Ahti." He called eventually.

 "Yes?"

 "Could I ask one thing of you, at least?" Since you're clearly not calling anyone.

 "What is it?"

 "Could you sing to me that song you're always singing to yourself?" He heard a surprised noise.

 "Sankarin Tango! You like it?"

 "As a matter of fact, I do!" And then, to himself, somewhat feeling like the compliment will reach his ears regardless. "I've always found it quite lovely, actually."

 "Ah..."

 Ahti sounded extremely pleased, speaking to himself in Finnish with an audible smile on his lips, and Ash couldn't help but smile too as the last traces of fear left his mind and body. As music filled the air around him his worry was replaced instead with the low rumbling that now enveloped him, louder. Did it came from the elevator? From the Oldest House itself? Was it, and could even be a reaction, let alone a positive one? Was it a response to Ahti's singing? First drafts of theories rose and fell like his calmed down breathing, like the melody carried by the air, as he waited to be rescued. Or, as it eventually will come to happen, for the walls to open and for him to meet his janitor friend, standing alone on a recently cleaned room.

 For now, Theodore Ash Jr. simply sat there, enjoying the choir in peace.

[pterawaters]

Chapters: 1/1 (2,776 words) Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham/Steve Harrington, Chrissy Cunningham/Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson Additional Tags: Time Loop, Season/Series 04 Series: Part 6 of February Ficlets 2024 Summary:

Ash falls on Hawkins and Steve wakes up a week earlier, knowing he has to change things.

[drelizabethgreene]

Day 9 of the @februaryficletchallenge series has been posted!

Prompt used: past/present/future

Pairing and Fandom: Doug/Carol, ER

Enjoy!

[searchingforserendipity25]

Plentiful as Sand is Plentiful. LoTR. on ao3.

There was for many years an hourglass upon Elrond’s desk, a tall ivory-and-glass thing from sunken Númenor. 

As a little child Estel liked to turn it and turn it, and would sit for hours upon his foster father’s lap following the mother-of-pearl etchings on the handle with his fingertips and watching the sand shift softly. 

For a time it was too heavy for his small wrists to turn; but Elrond with his keen hearing would know when the last grains came with an end, and knew when to turn it without lifting his eyes from his papers.

 Elrond had given it for him to hold, when he told him the truth of his name: Aragon, son of Arathorn, heir to Isildur’s line and Isildur’s grim failure. 

“Yet also to the courage of his people, and their skill,” Elrond told him. “Your forefather it was who made this time piece as a gift to me. From the glass-rooms of Armenelos it came, the last of Isildur’s works of beauty. It has been of good use to me, and good memory; I give it to you, that you should remember him with gratitude, as well as bitterness.”

“Yet bitter is it what you say to me,” said Estel, who was Aragorn. He was startled still, and yet not surprised entirely; for the blood of kings ran in him, and had at times left an uneasy premonition upon him. 

Still he would have remained been Estel, and no lost kingdom’s wayward heir; least of all in this century, this Age of the world, with an evil reckoning brewing in the distance. 

He turned the hourglass in his hands; a Mannish means of counting time, not to be found in other elvish kingdoms, but common enough in the house of Elrond Peredhel. “Keep it, Master Elrond. I cannot have it as my own, ere I am Isildur’s heir truly. These hurrying moments that are my lifetime shall be a heavy load to carry, I judge, and my course too rough for such a delicate thing.”

“Then keep it I shall, until you wish to reclaim it, or your score of years are run to their course,” said Elrond; and laid upon Estel’s shoulder the heavy comfort of his healer’s hands, which he felt for a time like a yoke as well as a kindness. 

It rested between a tall orchid Celebrían had found once in her expeditions in the wilds of Ennor, a narrow and tall and very orange creature, the last of its kind on these shore - and on the other side was his pile of used quills, which he tended to keep until they were worn through into stumps, too blunt to be sharpened.

He used it little, after that day; but at times Arwen his daughter came, and stood by the chair where Aragorn had sat with bent shoulders to her his name. 

Her fingers, long broideress fingers, touched the waves and leviathans Isildur had carved, with careful deliberation, in the last days of his youth, the dying of his empire. Her eyes grew clouded, then; not with the memory of the past, but her own designs, a future seen with the force of her want. Her own lord of man, his dear face not like any other’s; her own cities crowded with the smell of stone dust and salt.

She left it there, warmed by her skin, and went away from it but for rare and secret visits; but Elrond at times looked heavily upon it, as once he had not. 

That was another Age of the world. There is now an hourglass amidst Tar-Elessar’s instruments - behind the inkwell of Gondorin silver, besides the whittling of an eagle in flight his eldest daughter has wrought him. 

Many gifts have been to him, the king well-returned; but none quite as ancient. Elessar turns it in his hands, when a heavy ruling keeps him at work long into the night; Isildur’s hourglass, grown light with the strength of his manhood, feels always a little terrible to hold.

[leaderpinhead]

Vil - Flawed Perfection

Prompt: Sparkle Notes: Takes place just before the SDC.

Vil wasn’t ashamed to admit he was a perfectionist. He had standards. If a skin product didn’t provide the moisturizing effect he expected, then it was subpar. If an apple didn’t produce a crisp crunch when he bit into it, then it was mediocre. If he didn’t perform a scene to his upmost ability, then he was flawed. 

If Ace didn’t stop lingering a beat behind everyone else, he would be strangled. 

“Stop!” Vil snapped when the song ended. His voice was on the edge of sounding hoarse, and he could feel beads of sweat trickling down the small of his back. He felt the muscles in his calves and lower back protest. Still, he glared at Ace’s reflection in the floor length mirror of Pomefiore’s ballroom. “Ace! You are a beat behind everyone. Do it again.” 

Ace glared right back at him. “I’m a beat behind because I’m exhausted! We’ve been at this all day, plus I had basketball practice this morning. How do you expect anyone to keep up when you won’t even let us have a ten-second break?” 

Vil scoffed. His eyes darted across everyone’s reflections. No one would meet his eyes in the mirror. A tiny frown was Rook’s only response, and Jamil silently stared at the far corner of the room. Epel and Deuce found more interest in their shoes. Even Kalim quietly fiddled with the sweatband on his wrist instead of energetically interjecting. 

Vil couldn’t feel it, but he could see his face slowly redden in the mirror. A tight pain in his chest made his throat constrict. “I take the silence means you all agree? Do you believe I have pushed you too far? We have a mere week and a half to have this routine perfect. If you believe a half-hearted performance will lead us to victory you may as well qui—.” 

“I think this is a good place to call it a night.” 

The audible, loud sigh that emitted from everyone made Vil clamp his jaw shut. Vil turned towards the one person in the room he couldn’t see in the mirror. Yuu frowned where she stood next to the ballroom’s large doors. Grim stood at her knee, his paws wrapped around the textbook they had been studying during practice. 

Vil felt irrationally judged by the prefect’s unwavering stare. “Last I checked, you didn’t have the authority to make that decision.” 

Yuu’s frowned deepened. “And last I checked, you were the one who named me Manager. And as manager, I think that gives me the authority to end practice. Especially when I feel like someone’s exhaustion may lead him to hurting himself or others.” 

Vil bit the inside of his cheek. He had plenty of experience when it came to handling the prefect. He had been subjected to her ire; deflected her sarcasm; redirected her apathy. He had encouraged her curiosity; challenged her intellect; and combated her self-doubt. Save for their somewhat embarrassing introduction, he would argue he had maintained an air of poise and grace with her. 

Yet here he stood now feeling like a scolded child. 

Vil didn’t say a word as one-by-one the others left the ballroom. Rook paused just outside the door and glanced back at him. Vil turned away and sauntered over to the audio player. He jabbed the power button with more force than necessary. The ballroom fell silent when the droning buzz of the silent speakers died. 

Vil tensed at the soft squeak of Yuu’s shoes against the floor. He focused on disconnecting his smartphone from the cord connected to the player. He skimmed through the notifications he had received during practice. He tapped on the notification for Magicam. His app opened to a beaming picture of Neige and an offhanded text post about practicing the special performance his team had planned for the Song & Dance Competition. 

Vil’s fingernails scraped across the screen of his phone. 

“What do you think about taking tomorrow off?” 

Vil spun around to glare at Yuu. “Did you not hear what I just said? We have less than two weeks now. Two weeks. We haven’t even reached the point where we can practice in our uniforms.” 

Yuu blinked up at him. Her silence made him more agitated than if she would have argued with him. He spun on his heel and quickly stepped across the room where his gym bag lay in the corner. “Here I thought my biggest issue would be taming Epel, yet Ace is the one testing my patience now!” 

He threw his phone into the open flap of his bag and pulled out a small hand towel. Dabbing the sweat from his face, he spun back around to face Yuu. She had silently followed and now squinted up at him. Her silent stare made him snap. “What?” 

“I’m debating my best angle of attack,” she answered, her deadpan stare pinning him in place. “Do I slap you or use your mud masks for fertilizer?” 

Vil snapped his towel in the direction of the door. “Why not run like the others? For all the supposed bonding our tribe has done over the past three weeks, there was no hesitation in the quick shift in their alliance.” 

“Ace was right though,” Yuu countered. Her tone remained even as if she was simply citing a passage from a textbook. “We’ve all been given a little bit of leeway to focus on the SDC, but we do still have other responsibilities. Responsibilities that sometimes conflict with practice. Jamil and Ace are picking up more club time because of the interscholastic competitions they’ll be entering after the culture festival. The others have their clubs too, and we’re all struggling to keep up with our grades because our study time is cut in half with how late practice goes. A break would help everyone catch up and not feel as stressed.” 

Vil shook his head. “The headmage agrees about the importance of the SDC. Our performance must be flawless and leave the audience in absolute awe. The only thing that matters is our team blowing away the competition.” 

“Not if it means sacrificing your health!” Yuu’s deadpan expression finally broke with her angry shout. It was enough to make Vil pause. “I’m not just talking about the others. I’m talking about you too! A week ago, you would have given anyone at least a ten-minute break if they said their legs were cramping up. You would’ve gotten down on the floor with them and helped them stretch. You would’ve offered a soothing cream or made them drink more water or something. Now you’re so overstressed, you don’t even realize you’re pushing yourself to the verge of collapsing. Who was the one who told me resting was just as vital as rigorous practice?” 

The question was rhetorical, and Vil immediately felt childish for answering, “That’s because I’ve caught you staying up late playing video games every night since we moved into Ramshackle Dorm.” 

“And who’s the one I've caught doing yoga in my lounge at three in the morning?” 

Vil’s only response was to glance into the mirror behind Yuu. He visibly winced when he saw the noticeable bruises under his eyes. The towel had not only absorbed the sweat on his face but also the thin layer of foundation he had used to cover the bruises earlier. 

Yuu sighed. Her shoulders slumped. “I get the SDC is important in a lot of ways. I just don’t think it’s the most important thing. All this stress and animosity—I don’t see it ending well if it keeps growing like it obviously is.” 

Vil matched her sigh. He combed his fingers through his hair and let it fall where it liked. The mirror reflected back a hot mess now, but he had the feeling that another layer of makeup wouldn’t be much help to him. He thought of the perfect picture of Neige on Magicam and immediately wanted to throw something heavy enough at the mirror to shatter it. 

“You leave me no choice.” Vil’s eyes bounced back to Yuu. She stared up at him through narrowed eyelids, and her mouth puckered. The expression was extremely unflattering, but it also made Vil’s lips involuntarily twitch with humor. “I’ll just have to bring out my last resort.” 

“And what is that?” 

“A full spa day.” Vil blinked and quirked a single unamused brow. Yuu wasn’t swayed by his lack of enthusiasm. “There’s a little spa down in the town. I’ve done plenty of research on it, and all the reviews online say it’s worth it.” 

“I know, “Vil drawled. “I have used their services plenty of times in the last three years.” 

“Wonderful. That means I can use your name and get a discount.” Vil rolled his eyes, but that still didn’t dissuade her. “I’ll join you, and we’ll get the whole nine yards. Facials, massages, nails...” She paused. Her nose wrinkled. “I’ll even...let them wax me.” 

The concession made Vil’s other brow join the first at the top of his forehead. “Wax? The very thing you’ve absolutely refused to allow me to do? So much so that you would rather risk contracting rabies from a rabid bat by climbing halfway up a ventilation shaft to avoid Rook discovering your hiding place in the dorm and drag you back to my room?” 

Yuu framed her face with both hands and pulled her cheeks apart, stretching the corners of her eyes and mouth. “I’ll even let them wax the peach fuzz mustache you hate so much.” 

Vil threw back his head and laughed. He continued laughing until he gasped for breath, and at least one tear escaped the corner of his eyes. He grasped his stomach, which had cramped from the force of his laughter, and wiped the wet trails from his cheeks. When he was able to focus his blurred gaze again, he found Yuu staring at him. A small smile softened her face. 

It wasn’t as if everything he had felt earlier—the stress, the agitation, the impatience—had suddenly disappeared, but he could admit to the lighter feeling in his chest. Vil sighed and dabbed at his face again with his towel. “I was a bit of an ogre earlier, wasn’t I?” 

“Yes.” Yuu’s quick answer made him glare at her. Her smile widened. “But we’re all stressed right now. We’ve got the SDC, and clubs, and classes, and every other little thing in-between.” Yuu’s grin wavered into a soft frown. “We need a break before one of us completely loses it.” 

“You mean before I lose it,” Vil corrected. He waved her off when she tried to argue with him. “There’s no point in denying it because you’ve basically admitted it.” 

Yuu poked her tongue between her lips. “You just don’t sparkle as much as you used to.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means the sweat is melting away all the anti-aging products you use.” Yuu pulled her cheeks down, pulling down her eyelids in a grotesque manner. “Your sparkly youth is melting!” 

“I’m signing you up for a complete wax from head to toe.” 

“Don’t you dare! I’ll catch that rabid bat and release him in your room if you do.” 

Vil laughed again, and for the next week or so, he was able to effectively manage the stress broiling inside him. Then the day of the culture festival arrived. And so did Neige. 

[swanmaids]

The market square was the centre of Sirion. Growing out from around the great sundial painted on the cobbles in the centre , it was only about half the size of even the lesser market of Gondolin; but functioned as the stage for everything from the daily fish market at dawn to the puppet shows and mummer’s plays that marked the various festivals of Sirion’s various people. 

Pengolodh went to the square most days. It was the best place to be if one wanted to meet people  — and Pengolodh wanted to meet everybody. It was a gift and a thrill, to be able to speak with Men and Elves who had come to Sirion from the Falas, Dor Lomin, Nargothrond and dozens of other places, some of which were such tiny settlements that they were not listed on any map. Most days he could find somebody willing to talk — to part with a memory, or a song, or a bit of family lore for a few minutes; and he happily took whatever they gave him. There was so much to know. 

There was another, who came to the market square with a similar task. A man of the House of Hador he was, and he was a musician who named himself Dírhavel. He could play the strings and the pipe, and he sang with a voice that was cracking and imperfect, but arrestingly beautiful all the same. 

Dírhavel was a seeker of information too, because he was writing a lay; of Húrin and Morwen and their tragic children. Though he had not yet reached this third decade, he was tired of singing only at weddings and funerals, and anxious over what sort of mark he would leave on the world, he told Pengolodh. He wanted to write a work that would be remembered when he was gone. 

From the start, it was clear that they could help each other. Pengolodh’s memories of Húrin’s year in the hidden city filled in gaps that otherwise would have remained a mystery, and Dírhavel helped him become fluent in the local Falathrin dialect of Sindarin — all the better for him to connect with the locals. Often over something cheap from one of the various nearby cookshops: some fish skewers, or bean stew with flatbread; they would sit together and talk as they watched Sirion go about its business, as the shadows moved steadily around the sundial. 

Spending time with Dírhavel quickly became Pengolodh’s favourite part of any given day, surpassing even his interviews with the Sirionites. And when he was not with him, he thought of the other man often. Pengolodh was by now very old — perhaps not by the standards of his own people, but certainly according to any of Sirion’s mortal population — and he had known himself too long to pretend that his feelings for the other man were anything but what they were. 

If there was one thing that Pengolodh had learned from his many and varied subjects, it was that one’s life could change irreparably in any moment. He resolved not to wait too long to confess to his friend. He did not know how much time they might have.

[februaryficletchallenge]

Hello!! I have a doubt about the challenge, if I saw the challenge after it started. Can I participate? If so, do I have to start from the beginning or where it currently is?

Hi! You're welcome to start now, and you can start from the beginning or the current prompt, whichever pleases you best! The collection will remain open until the end of the year. (The "rules" are really more like guidelines, anyway.)