EÄRWEN OF ALQUALONDË
Do you truly think Fëanáro cares if you flee or fly? Beloved, sweet, hopeful husband, the perpetual youngest of sons: I tell you now the stolen ships will go to Beleriand whether you step foot on the deck or not. Flowers will bloom in the gardens of Tirion whether you sail oversea or not. Fëanáro and Nolofinwë will cross their swords nigh unto death even if you run your heart clear through with the blade. The eagle does not know that the fishermouse lines his nest with eagle-feathers each night, hoping beyond hope that its children will fly.
attempting to deal with ‘man what the fuck’ events in my life by semi-realistically sketching out a woman who just watched her kindred become the victims of the first large scale slaying only to watch her hubby and kiddos packing their bags to trot along after the guy who did it, and it looked pretty nice so here u must have it too ☠️ words from my ficlet.
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