silentwanderers - Profile (original) (raw)

This is the fic branestorm and posting comm for emily_reich and kel_of_merentha. Most likely this will be all about our Haldir/Dínraen short story collection, but I suppose we may post some of our other fics here eventually... we'll see. So, yeah, until we finish any whole stories, or chapters that are actually in order, everything'll be flocked and this comm will look fairly barren.

If we get anyone stumbling in who wants to know who the hell Dínraen is, and the the hell we're doing shipping her with Haldir, and they ask nicely, we'll probably add it to this profile. Until then, my apologies to anyone who can't figure out that we made her up.

(We are not responsible for any loss of eyesight due to fruitless hunting of all Tolkien's works for years on end in search of the name "Dínraen".)

That is all.

Some Inspirational Quotes and Lyrics:

Ar sindanóriello caita mornië
Ar ilyë tier undulávë lumbulë...

Ónen i-Estel Edain, ú-chebin estel anim.

Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadow to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Mist and shadow, cloud and shade,
All shall fade, all shall fade!

"The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater."

And he looked at the slain, recalling their names. Then suddenly he beheld his sister Éowyn as she lay, and he knew her. He stood a moment as a man who is pierced in the midst of a cry by an arrow through the heart; and then his face went deathly white, and a cold fury rose in him, so that all speech failed him for a while.

"War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend: the city of the Men of Númenor; and I would have her loved for her memory, her ancientry, her beauty, and her present wisdom."

He wondered what the man's name was and where he was from; and if he was really evil of heart, or what lies or threats had led him on the long march from his home; and if he would not really rather have stayed there in peace...

During all this black day Faramir lay upon his bed in the chamber of the White Tower, wandering in a desperate fever; dying someone said...

"I go now to my fathers, in whose mighty company I shall not now feel ashamed."

And Éowyn looked at Faramir long and steadily; and Faramir said: "Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Éowyn! But I do not offer you pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten; and you are a lady beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the elven-tongue to tell. And I love you. Once I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, still I would love you. Éowyn, do you not love me?"

And he took her in his arms and kissed her under the sunlit sky, and he cared not that they stood high upon the walls in the sight of many. And many indeed saw them and the light that shone about them as they came down from the walls and went hand in hand...

"Gimli, Glóin's son, have you your axe ready?"

"Nay, lord," said Gimli, "but I can speedily fetch it, if there be need."

"You shall judge," said Éomer. "For there are certain rash words concerning the Lady of the Golden Wood that lie still between us. And now I have seen her with my eyes."

"Well, lord," said Gimli, "and what say you now?"

"Alas!" said Éomer. "I will not say that she is the fairest lady that lives."

"Then I must go for my axe," said Gimli.

"But first I will plead this excuse," said Éomer. "Had I seen her in other company, I would have said all that you could wish. But now I will put Queen Evenstar first, and I am ready to do battle on my part with any who deny me. Shall I call for my sword?"

"Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil."

"Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be so eager to deal out death and judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends."

"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

"Remember today, little brother."

"If this is to be our end, then I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of rememberance."

"I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me! A day may come when the courage of Men fails; when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day! An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of Men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand: Men of the West!"

When all in the camp were sleeping Beleg took his bow, and in the darkness shot the wolf-sentinels, one by one and silently. Then in great peril they entered in, and they found Túrin fettered hand and foot and tied to a withered tree; and all about him knives that had been cast at him were embedded in the trunk, and he was senseless in a sleep of great weariness. But Beleg and Gwindor cut the bonds that held him, and lifting him they carried him out of the dell; yet they could bear him no further than to a thicket of thorn-trees a little way above. There they laid him down; and now the storm drew very near. Beleg drew his sword Anglachel, and with it he cut the fetters that bound Túrin; but fate was that day more strong, for the blade slipped as he cut the shackles, and Túrin's foot was pricked. Then he was aroused into a sudden wakefulness of rage and fear, and seeing one bending over him with naked blade he leapt up with a great cry, believing that Orcs were come again to torment him; and grappling with him in the darkness he seized Anglachel, and slew Beleg Cúthalion thinking him a foe.

But as he stoodd, finding himself free, and ready to sell his life dearly against imagined foes, there came a great flash of lightning above them; and in this light he looked down on Beleg's face. Then Túrin stood stonestill and silent, staring down on that dreadful death, knowing what he had done; and so terrible was his face, lit by the lightning that flickered all about them, that Gwindor cowered down upon the ground and dared not raise his eyes.

But now in the dell beneath the Orcs were aroused, and all the camp was in tumult; for they feared the thunder that came out of the west, believing that it was sent against them by the great Enemies beyond the Sea. Then a wind arose, and great rains fell, and torrents swept down from the heights of Taur-nu-Fuin; and though Gwindor cried out to Túrin, warning him of their utmost peril, he made no answer, but sat unmoving and unweeping in the tempest beside the body of Beleg Cúthalion.

When morning came the storm was passed away eastward over Lothlann, and the sun of autumn rose hot and bright; but believing that Túrin would have fled far away from that place and all trace of his flight be washed away, the Orcs departed in haste without longer search, and far off Gwindor saw them marching away over the steaming sands of Anfauglith. Thus it came to pass that they returned to Morgoth emptyhanded, and left behind them the son of Húrin, who sat crazed and unwitting on the slopes of Taur-nu-Fuin, bearing a burden heavier than their bonds.

Then Gwindor roused Túrin to aid him in the burial of Beleg, and he rose as one that walked in sleep; and together they laid Beleg in a shallow grave, and placed beside him Belthronding his great bow, that was made of black yew-wood. But the dread sword Anglachel Gwindor took, saying that it were better that it should take vengeance on the servants of Morgoth than lie useless in the earth; and he took also the lembas of Melian to strengthen them in the wild.

Thus ended Beleg Strongbow, truest of friends, greatest in skill of all that harboured in the woods of Beleriand in the Elder Days, at the hand of whom he most loved; and that grief was graven on the face of Túrin and never faded.