A drabble in which my muse tries to calm yours.
“Thus came they unhappy into woe,
to dungeons no hope nor glimmer know,
where chained in chains that eat the flesh
and woven in webs of strangling mesh
they lay forgotten, in despair.
Yet not all unavailing were
the spells of Felagund, for Thû
neither their names nor purpose knew.”
Some great Noldor lord lay exhausted on the floor, and he ought know him, thought Thû— but the name slipped from his mind as soon as he clasped it, like a silver minnow, and would not be caught.
A great lord he must be, for his Song came steady and powerful; and Noldor he must be also, by his scent and the set of his bones— and by his golden locks there was only one noble line he could belong to. But this much was all Thû could gain, after inspection and intimidation failed.
Let the others be dragged away by servants and set in bonds to await interrogation; they were no more threat here. This one alone demanded patience.
With the clicking of metal the maia lifted the fallen elf to his knees, wavering; blood streamed from his nose unheeded and his eyes wandered. A soft cry of pain escaped him as he was touched, and Thû tensed. That aureate voice had caused enough trouble.
“Lay you down and give up care;
drink of whimsy and thoughtless air;
though every bird and beast of prey
know when to fight or fly away,
when the dark brings death and bloody rue,
let dreams of comfort smother you;
and when every living thing ought flee,
let nothing earthly trouble thee.”
This Thû Sang and wove into a cord that gleamed the hue of raven’s feathers, and slid gently around the Noldo’s neck where it sat like an elegant collar. At the first sound of distress, the band tightened; no call for help or Song of undoing would leave that throat again, if the magic held.
Tilting the elf’s chin upward, Thû looked into the unfocused eyes.
“Your friends will die one by one and you will do nothing to save them.” He hummed. “I suspect under ordinary circumstances, that might distress you. How do you feel?”
The golden elf smiled vaguely into middle distance, the horror of his situation and the peril of his comrades lost to him in the flood of some blissful memory. The cord robbed him of his voice and any fear— for the time being, Thû found that satisfactory.
“Drop him in the pit with the other spies.” He ordered. “Let them see their leader broken, and know that his Song can no longer save them.”
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 