silverstar, the silmarillion

xvi. light and flame

hi! so i made a little poetry for this chapter. and tysm Romanoffs_angel who gave me her input about it <3 ! enjoy!

he was a fire
amongst his people
a tortured, scarred flame
that raged the world in its wrath

she was the light of hope
amidst her people
a joyous, lovely light
that basked the world in its light

but then, the flame and the light clashed
birthing catastrophe ahead
that both knew of, but ignored for their
fantasy of love

the taste was so delightful
but it tasted bitter, and more bitter
as the flame reigned darkness
in search of his father's gem

the light was wrathful of his actions
so they part their ways away
but still, they longed for the other
under the same woven sky

they didn't know that they will
be destructed by their own love

do they?

The sharp blue-grey eyes snapped onto the fire that flared in the room, bathing it with its warm hue. Fire reflected from his dilated pupils, as his mind is in another place, far, far deep into the past.

A ring of promise that he twirled on his left hand glinted tauntingly in the poorly lighted room, as a voice he has not heard for long whispered in his ear.

"I promise that I would not leave you. Not now, not ever."

As the silhouette of a heartbroken couple sharing their last kiss in the shadow of the fortress, heartbroken, not long after the Second Kinslaying, which of he had commanded.

Miralyaen looked livid. She never did, as she was always kind and gentle — just like her brother Laurëfindil. Her luscious silver hair that was always neat looked disheveled, and her blue eyes contained fury beyond belief.

Maedhros, downtrodden from his unsuccessful attempt of rescuing Eluréd and Elurín from the forest, ascended from his horse in one graceful leap, his armor smeared with mud and the blood of his kin — alas, he was a Kinslayer.

He understood, immediately, and nodded to Maglor knew what he meant — they knew the consequence for them of executing the Second Kinslaying.

Miralyaen's face remained tight and unmoving, as they moved towards Maedhros' office, for more privacy. Once the door was shut firmly, with crossed arms, Miralyaen's voice shook as she questioned, "Why did you do such ruthless action so far as to kill our kin?"

"You know I have to do it, Miralyaen," Maedhros lowly stated. She slightly flinched, it pained her to see him in such a desperate state, but he had sworn an oath under the name of Eru Ilúvatar that he must fulfill.

Her voice softened, "Then you know what we must do." She had stood then, and gently rested her hand on his chest as she searched his eyes that have seen so much.

"Yes."

Miralyaen whispered, "I am sorry, Maitimo. But I can't live knowing that the elf I love is a Kinslayer. You are not whom I remember; you've changed."

Her hand dropped from his chest, but he caught it. Maedhros looked vulnerable as he begged, "Please."

Her lip quivered slightly as she pulled her hand away from his and started walking towards the armory, Maedhros on her tow.

She felt guilty, but she couldn't anymore hold the pain whenever she saw him smeared with the blood of his foes; it trampled her with the truth that she can no longer deny.

She sheathed her sword, now fully covered in armor. She will do what she promised to; to go home, back to Gondolin, back with Laurëfindil.

She turned to face her lover one last time, and kissed him as she sealed her farewell, "Have I ever told you that no stars could match your beauty?" Maitimo inquired. She smiled.

It all felt too fast but she composed herself and as she rode outside the gates of the fortress she uttered, "Farewell."

"Maedhros."

Maglor's voice was faint, but it was there.

"Maedhros."

The blurry image of Maglor's face staring in concern was all he can see.

"Maedhros."

Everything cleared. He could see Maglor opening his mouth, the words escaping, "Maedhros, Elmarë has returned, and she brought a visitor that might concern you."

A second passed.

Then, "Are you well?"

"It will pass in time."

...

Celethtár was forced to sleep on the bed after Elmarë had left, still his thoughts was not as quiet as he would've liked. He was conflicted, and surprised.

He found the one who was to be the saviour of Hallerin, the one whom his people call the Silverstar. He was there when the propechy was made.

When evil shall befallen Hallerin
Desolate by a mighty dragon with metal skin
That shall be slaughtered by the Silverstar
Who bore the gleaming circlet of Aredhel
She rose from bloodslaughter
And was raised by oath-breakers
All will be well
When the time tells

But could it be? It has been years since his father had searched for the Silverstar, without any hints to indicate who was she, save for Aredhel's circlet, which was long lost when she entered Nan Elmoth.

But rose from bloodslaughter? He guessed that she was. Raised by oath-breakers? Celethtár knew it to be untrue, as was proved by all three Kinslayings. He knew that the Fëanorions were not oath-breakers.

His trail of thoughts were interupted when long strides outside the House of Healing was heard. Morinésa glanced upward from her duties and straightened as Lord Maedhros entered the room, filling the doorway by his height.

Lord Maedhros turned his head to Morinésa, who didn't cower at his icy stare, because she was who cared for him when he was a young elfling. "Leave us, Morinésa."

Morinésa bowed her head, "Yes, Prince Nelyafinwë."

His eyes followed her as she took her leave, and when she was out from the room, he closed the door and locked it.

Lord Maedhros sat on the chair at the edge of the bed, and inquired, "Prince Celethtár, I welcome you at my fortress as my ally, but I know that you have come here for a cause."

"Our people have fallen ill, and the orcs have taken this chance to ambush our defenseless kingdom."