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kenazÚmarth
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lotr_community's February challenge: The Dark Side of Love
Required elements: flow, end, bind, rushes, utmost, aged, rapid, yaw
Summary: The master of doom, by doom mastered.
Word Count: 400
At the utmost end, Túrin saw before him the faces of those he had loved and failed, and knew himself vanquished. He could not claw through the dirt in Taur-na-Fuin and lay himself down beside Beleg’s aged bones, nor lift the stones of Haudh-en-Elleth to fall once more on Finduilas’ grave, nor give himself to the rapid river that had claimed his lover-sister and their unborn son in its relentless flow. No, not for him, the aches of age and glory’s fading memory; nor the hero’s mantle, nor the victor’s crown. All he had sought had eluded him, and all that he had loved he had consigned to dust while he railed, blow after impotent blow, against a fate he could not master.
“I have but one deed left to me,” he whispered to the water and the wind, “and though it be grim work, it be good. Perhaps the best I have yet done.” A smile, brief and sharp, flashed across his face, like the plummeting star that flares bright and then rushes into darkness. Beneath his feet he could feel the earth pitch and yaw as though it knew his mind and revolted.
Gurthang glinted darkly, and he beheld it with eyes unblinking. Its black point beckoned, inveigling him with keen and hungry words: Bind yourself to me, Turambar. To me.
Written for
lotr_community's February challenge: The Dark Side of LoveRequired elements: flow, end, bind, rushes, utmost, aged, rapid, yaw
Summary: The master of doom, by doom mastered.
Word Count: 400
At the utmost end, Túrin saw before him the faces of those he had loved and failed, and knew himself vanquished. He could not claw through the dirt in Taur-na-Fuin and lay himself down beside Beleg’s aged bones, nor lift the stones of Haudh-en-Elleth to fall once more on Finduilas’ grave, nor give himself to the rapid river that had claimed his lover-sister and their unborn son in its relentless flow. No, not for him, the aches of age and glory’s fading memory; nor the hero’s mantle, nor the victor’s crown. All he had sought had eluded him, and all that he had loved he had consigned to dust while he railed, blow after impotent blow, against a fate he could not master.
“I have but one deed left to me,” he whispered to the water and the wind, “and though it be grim work, it be good. Perhaps the best I have yet done.” A smile, brief and sharp, flashed across his face, like the plummeting star that flares bright and then rushes into darkness. Beneath his feet he could feel the earth pitch and yaw as though it knew his mind and revolted.
Gurthang glinted darkly, and he beheld it with eyes unblinking. Its black point beckoned, inveigling him with keen and hungry words: Bind yourself to me, Turambar. To me.
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Date: 2013-03-20 05:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-21 03:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-21 03:59 pm (UTC)