Ashes to Ashes

Scene 4

Today was a lazy day. Farin had protested even getting out of bed, but his mother had insisted that he at least take care of things inside the house.

So be it. He had already polished half the pots in the kitchen, their two fishing poles were absolutely pristine, and their floors had barely a spot of dirt on them. Compared to his usually work, it was light, but still offered a way to warm up his muscles. Either way, a sick feeling settled in his stomach as he worked. Something was wrong. The mountain had been quiet for too long.

A terrible scream broke him out of his reverie, the glass in his hand crashing to the floor, shattering. Farin was on his feet in an instant, scrambling to the doorway to look out and see what had happened. What he saw sickened him to his very core.

In the distance, down the crooked street, flames tore at the wood of the homes, much faster than any flame he had ever seen, no matter if there was flesh in its way or not. Scream after scream tore at his ears, and he was unable to look away as the terrible fire tore through the street, already halving the distance between it and Farin. Farin dove back into the house, yelling for his mother and two sisters, skidding on the floors as he almost hauled his littlest sister out. She was barely ten years of age, terror evident on her face as her older sister hauled her into their little boat, just as the city bells started to ring, loud and clean over the sickening, dark sounds of the city.

Farin had already rushed back into the house, the fire only one house away now. Where was his mother? She was not with his sisters, and she had not answered his call when he had first seen the fire. He scrambled through the house, the heat of the nearby flame hitting his nostrils and burning his eyes. Fire should not be like this. No, this was not what you would simply call fire. This was darker, almost alive. As soon as that thought had taken shape in his mind, that same fire was licking at the shingles of their home, the heat making it more laborious to breathe. He could hear his little sisters screaming for him to GET OUT. He had scoured the home, and with a heavy heart he turned back, running to the awaiting boat just as the flames ate through the roof, the sound of screams and cracking, splintering wood eating away at his ears as he rowed with every ounce of strength he had, even some he didn't know he possessed. Heat tore at his exposed skin, even in the normally chilly autumn. Flames whipped every which way, twisting and turning in the wind from the great dragon's wings, the horrible whoosh of each flap scratching at his ears, like an insect, almost not there, but still right in the forefront. The scent of burning flesh rushed in from behind him, making him sick. He hoped they had swift deaths.

The only thing left for him to do was protect. Protect and flee. His sisters were with him, but he could only pray to Illuvitar that his mother was safe, and that if she was dead Mandos had taken her quickly