Written for Tolkien Femslash Week Bingo, for the following prompts:
Formats and Genres: Drabble Series (G31)
Opposites Attract: optimist/pessimist (O41)
Emotions: Courage (O41)
Four Words: exile, hands, diversion, perception (O41)
Emotions: Hunger (G31)
Emotions: Lust (I15)
Four Words: ocean, thousand, ceramic, fever (G31)
Language of Flowers: Gladiolus: Strength of Character (O41)
Language of Flowers: Hollyhock: Ambition (N19)
You realized sooner than I what poison was working among the Eldar, though you laughed and made light of it. I was concerned by the dissension, but what could it have to do with us? We two would stand firm in our love, no matter what foolish things your half-brother said and did. We lived an eternal golden day of peace; my mind could not imagine darkness and the shedding of blood.
And now our places have reversed. You have gone forth fearlessly into exile, and I-I imagine everything you could suffer, and my heart is darkened with fear.
Will you forgive me? I wonder, as I tread the paths of exile.
When you heard what Melkor - Morgoth - had done, your face grew cold and remote, your eyes shining with a holy fury. I believe if he had been brought before you as a prisoner, you would have wielded the axe yourself.
You call me brave, but I did not feel so when I left you. "I must go!" I said, and pulled my hands from yours. Your expression was disbelieving-stricken-and I did not have the courage to see how it would change, to anger or sorrow.
You have always been braver than I, my love. When I first knew I loved you, I poured out my heart in song, and sent it to you-without a name. I half hoped and half feared that you would guess the truth.
My eyes strain in the dark, to the limits of my perception. The candle on the table glimmers feebly. Why are you not here, to lend me your courage and join your light to mine! Gone into exile . . .
I seek diversion from my own dark thoughts, but my song falters and the pen falls from my hands.
In this bitter cold I think of you, trying to recapture the warmth of those hours under Laurelin's light when our hair spread over the bed, golden and black mingled together.
The Ice is hard as steel and brittle as a ceramic teacup; the ocean hisses below. I know it hates us, hungry for our deaths.
I count my steps: a thousand, and a thousand more. I remember your shining eyes, your eager mouth, your body soft and yielding beneath mine, trembling as with fever.
I wish you were here with me! And yet I am glad you are not.
I greet the first sunrise with great joy. Only later do I see what the darkness has done.
My garden once boasted bright hollyhocks and gladiolus with green spears, the flowers orange and yellow like flame in Laurelin's light. I remember how I sat with you there, the hours divided by the ringing of bells. I find all the flowers dead, of course, wilted and bowed down to the ground. Even the grass is withered by the breath of Ungoliant's poison in the air. I fall to my knees and weep, for everything which is gone and cannot be restored.