WAR: Gwann nan iHûl

Because I simply couldn't resist.

SUMMARY: If Gone With the Wind had been written by an Elf, with apologies to Margaret Mitchell, Vivien Leigh, Cate Blanchett, and, of course, the Professor.

WARNING THE FIRST: Should be read with a deep Southern accent and I don’t mean South Beleriand either.

WARNING THE SECOND: Eating or drinking while reading this may not be good for your health.

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Sometime during the First Age…

"Auth! Auth! Auth!" cried Galadriel Finarfiniel in disgust as she sat in Queen Melian’s bower along with the other ladies of the court of Doriath sewing. "I declare it’s all these silly ellyn talk about! Why, even that nice Lord Celeborn goes drearily on about ‘War this and war that and wouldn’t Morgoth’s head look nice above the mantlepiece?’ Ack! It’s enough to make an elleth spit. Well, pui-en-orch, say I! Pui-en-orch on them all! There are more important things to concern oneself than a silly little war!"

"Such as what?" asked Lady Ivorwen, who was a bit put out at Galadriel’s disparaging remarks about the silver-haired prince of Doriath. Ivorwen, of course, hoped to marry said prince someday. That is, if I can ever get the besotted fool away from this flighty Golodh! she thought to herself as she stabbed her finger, muttering a curse word under her breath that had Queen Melian frowning.

"Why, my brother Finrod’s upcoming Winter Solstice Ball to be held in Nargothrond next month, for one," the Noldorin princess remarked, unaware of Ivorwen’s feelings.

"And why is that so important?" asked Lúthien, pretending indifference, but secretly wondering how she might cajole her ada into letting her (finally!) travel outside of Doriath. Honestly, she thought, edair were such bores!

"Well, my dear," Galadriel answered with a smug grin, "everyone who is anyone in Beleriand will be there and I still can’t decide whether I should wear the rose damask or that pretty white taffeta gown my nana packed for me before I left Aman." The golden-haired elleth sighed with the burden of choice weighing heavily upon her.

At that, Melian, Maia Queen of Doriath, looked up from working elf-knots into her embroidery and said with a knowing smile, "But my dear, that simply will not do at all."

"What won’t do?" Galadriel exclaimed in surprise.

"The taffeta, dear, the taffeta," replied Melian with a long-suffering sigh at the fashion-challenged ignorance of youth. "Anyone looking at you can see that white simply is NOT your color!"

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All words are Sindarin:

Gwann nan iHûl: 'Gone With the Wind'.

Auth: War.

Elleth: Elf-maid.

Ellyn: Plural of ellon: Male elf.

Pui-en-orch: Orc-spit, from the verb puia-, inf. puio- "to spit".

Golodh: Noldo.

Ada: Hypocoristic form of Adar: Father. The plural is edair.

Nana: Hypocoristic form of Naneth: Mother.