Title: War, Crafted by Skill
Author: Endaewen
Rating: G
Fandom: The Silmarillion
Disclaimer: All the characters and settings belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and the Tolkien Estates.
Prompt: #60. Jewels
Wordcount: 479
Character: Luthien Tinuviel
Summary: Written for the Arda100 LiveJournal community, the Doom'n'Gloom prompt set.
Note: Quotes (in 'bold') are from Of Beren and Luthien from The Silmarillion.

“Bring to me in your hand a Silmaril from Morgoth's crown.” My father's words which set into motion so much. Now that I've seen the damage these jewels have caused, I wonder if Thingol truly understood what the Silmarils were to the kin of Feanor and those he led.

Before the coming of the Noldor from Aman, jewels were something found deep in the earth, with the exception of pearls, found in the great oceans. But for all that, they were no less dangerous to acquire. To us of the starlit Middle-Earth, they were beautiful to see, a form of decoration and wealth, and even something to craft into even more beauty. Before the return of our Noldorin kindred, they were rarely if ever something to start a war over. Much less start a war over specific jewels such as the Silmarils. They have been the cause of much sorrow.

Before the coming of the Noldor, we of the kingdoms of Middle-Earth had never seem gems which shone with a light of their own. The precious stones of the earth merely reflected the light shining around them. Many of the Noldor had brought these and other wonders from Aman. We had thought at first that the stones found in Aman were different. Never did we think it was possible for one to craft gemstones. These stones were greatly valued for trade in Doriath, and by the Dwarves. This is one skill that those folk never mastered.

Never having seen the silmarils of Feanor, I thought the idea of defying the Valar over three jewels, even jewels crafted and not found, was preposterous. The stories seemed to be exaggeration.

Beren and I succeeded in the quest, and he did indeed give my father a Silmaril before dying. Somehow, I moved the Valar to pity and despite the fact that Beren had died, and I had chosen to do the same, we were permitted to Middle-Earth for the duration of a lifetime.

Thus was I able to see the end of my father and of Doriath, my home. For the sons of Feanor demanded that Thingol hand over the silmaril to them. He refused, despite the counsel of my mother.

In spite of the threat implied in the words of the sons of Feanor, it wasn't them who killed Thingol, it was the Dwarves who, inspired by greed, killed him and stole the treasures of Doriath.

Though the treasures were reclaimed, it led to war between the kingdoms of Belegost and Doriath. However, by the time the Dwarves had arrived, the Silmaril, now held in the Nauglamir, had been set to me.

I shall keep it safe and in time, pass it on to my son. Unfortunately, more than just an heirloom will be passed to him. I will also be handing to him a future of war.