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Eclectic Whimsies  by Ellie

Written for the ALEC "Boo!" contest (had to write about something that would scare, unsettle, or frighten someone in Middle-earth) where it won first place.

Summary: Sometimes the deadliest weapon an enemy wields does not possess a blade as the Elves of Lothlórien and Lasgalen discover to their dismay.

Many thanks to Fiondil and Alassiel for the beta.

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It storms every night here. Strange that everywhere else, the clouds and the sickly rain do not touch, but over Mordor...Over Mordor it storms every night.

The stars never shine and the sun seems to flee in despair. The clouds never go away – even during what passes as day time here. And it storms every night.

I noticed a few days after we arrived from Lothlórien how much my mood had darkened to match the storms. But this is war. Are we not all supposed to have darkened moods? However, for the Silvans, for the Galadhrim, and for the Sindar who chose to make the ways of the true elves of Middle-earth their ways, the darkness and storms seemed so much worse. Are the Noldor and their followers so used to conflict that it does not influence or touch them or…or disturb them the way it does the rest of us?

The Noldor were driven here from Valinor by violence and hatred and conflict. All they have done and all they have wrought since they have been here has been conflict. Kinslayings and betrayals and subjugation seem to be all that they know or understand. It is no wonder that they have fought so many wars and shed so much blood in their many ennin of occupation of Middle-earth! But...but to not be touched by the present darkness…How far have they fallen? How far will we fall for having followed them into this Light-forsaken place of doom and dread?

I dream about the Noldor and their heinous crimes often since I have been here. Their crimes weigh heavily in my dreams like the ever present thunder. And when I do not dream of their insidious deceits and betrayals, then I dream of the great price we will pay for foolishly following the Noldor into this so-called Alliance. What were Amdir and Oropher thinking bringing us here?

For five nights in a row, I dreamt that our families were slaughtered in their homes while we were away fighting here – our mothers, sisters, aunts, wives, children…The insidious lightning burned the trees of our beloved homes.

Sometimes I dream that we go to battle and prove how great the true elves are – those of us who are uncorrupted by the influence of the Belain. I see our vast armies of Lasgalen and Lothlórien charging forth in a glory of arms, smiting the enemy, leaving behind in the dust the Noldor and graceless men who blindly follow them.

I am not alone in my dreams. Every ellon I have spoken with since my dreams started has spoken of similar dreams as well. Every time we dream like this, it is during a storm. Some say foresight is not to be trusted. It is drilled into us from our youth, but what if our dreams are foresight? What if so many of us dreaming this means it will be true? What if we stay here and our homes are destroyed? Or maybe if we fight and prove our prowess in the face of battle (as my daeradar’s adar believes will be the case), then the pompous Noldorin idiots in their heavy shiny armour will respect us and our ways, and we personally will end this war before a year passes – before our homes can be invaded and destroyed.

I never knew such animosity toward the Noldor until this war. The thunder rumbles in the distance and a putrid rain dampens our clothes and our morale even as I ponder this. Just like the Noldor have smothered us. The rumbling of my comrades matches the rumbling of the storms.

Let this end soon!

I am restless in my gear even as my brothers-in-arms fidget nearby. The true kings have mustered us to battle. I do not see the Noldor ready to stand at our sides!

Cowards! If they are not fighting against elves, they cannot fight at all!

I line up far back in the ranks, for that is where my family has been assigned. To my left is a Sinda who married my cousin and to my right is my younger brother. I nod to them, their feral grins answering me in return.

The thunder rumbles again, shaking the ground, rattling my teeth with its force. Orcs lie ahead of us, but all I can see in my mind is the Noldor who brought this battle upon us. My anger toward them grows greater than my hatred toward the orcs. With every flash of lightning, all I can see is the death and destruction wrought in the tales my edair have told us of kinslayings and red blood and the curse of the Belain in what they wrought in the elves of Valinor.

“Curse the Noldor,” my brother mutters.

Someone behind me yells, “Let us fight! We will show them who are the better elves!”

Mutters rise to grumbles and then to shouts all around me. The cacophony grows, echoed by the thunder, and our anger flashes in the sordid sky in time to the storm.

Our glorious kings Amdir and Oropher sound the advance. And not a moment too soon for we are every one of us eager to prove ourselves, prove our worth, prove our superiority to the Noldor!

oOoOo

We marched to our slaughter. Half of the ellyn of Lasgalen and Lothlórien were lost to us in that battle. King Gil-Galad of the Noldor tried to stop us, tried to restrain us, but we would not listen. Indeed we could not. So filled with rage were we - rage misdirected at the Noldor - that we were incapable of stopping ourselves. After the battle, as we sought to heal our wounded and bury our dead, we asked ourselves, I asked myself, why I hated the Noldor so much? Why was I so enraged at them that I charged into battle like that? Why were we so enraged?

A Noldorin healer, trained in Valinor by the Belain in fact, saved my life and that of my little brother. As I watched the solemn grey eyes of my savior, I wondered why in those moments before battle I hated him and his kind so much. They stand to lose just as much as we do if this war is lost. They are our kin, our own race. They are our allies. How could I hate them so?

Many of us asked these questions of ourselves again and again as we regrouped and mourned our lost and licked our wounds, heads hung in shame.

It took us many months of battle and conflict to understand what happened that night. And the understanding, when it came, brought horror not just to us, but to the Noldor as well.

When the storms come at night, they bring rage. They fill our dreams with lies and half-truths and things we wished were true and things we feared would become so. We learned not to fight at night during the storms if we could help it.

We also learned that the Noldor were not as deeply affected by this as were we. When we were in the Noldorin camp, we were not touched by the whispered lies of the storms. Our sleep was restful and our dreams were true.

Some proposed that perhaps the Noldor were immune because of their previous dealings with the Belain. Some speculated that the Noldorin king had some mysterious power about him that kept his people safe from the malicious influence.

Our folk soon mingled with the Noldor in one huge camp instead of in smaller camps sorted by the different elven realms. King Gil-Galad has ordered us to only fight side by side with the Noldor, if at all possible, and not during the storms.

oOoOo

Deep in the Third Age of this land, I still fear the rumble of thunder and the memories it brings - even safe in Lórien where a Noldo wields a different kind of power to keep us safe. Some wonder why we would trust a Noldo to rule and guide our realm, but those who took part in the Last Alliance do not question this. Orcs and Uruks can be killed with arrows and swords, but the storms in our dreams slew us.

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Edair – fathers

Daeradar – grandfather

Belain – Valar

Ennin – yéni (multiple periods of 144 years)





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