A short story collection featuring Thranduil, Legolas, Halbrand, Galadriel, Túrin, Finduilas, Galion, Elrohir and Elladan. There will be a dragon duel, an arranged marriage, a Dark Queen and a Dark Lord and much more. New stories and snippets are ad...
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Summary:
An elf with a shattered soul is dying. Her torturer is gone, yet he haunts her, but then she hears the soothing tones of a flute. Can music mend a broken heart?
A poetic one-shot, where Thranduil's former butler Galion finds love.
Written for the @Generalfiction Wattpad Contest "A Round of Applause", June 2020, and awarded a special mention. It also won 1st place i the Luna Awards Short Story category March 2021.
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Healing Music
Eryn Lasgalen, Fourth Age
The lyre called to her again. It sat in the corner, forlorn and silent, begging to be touched and made to sing. Celegiel turned her back to it, stubbornly gazing into the woven screen that shielded her bed from the breeze.
Her windows were wide open, it was a warm summer evening. A gust of wind ruffled her hair and the lyre strings, producing a hum from the latter. Was it going to call to her vocally now, as well? She glared at the offending instrument, willing it to be quiet. It refused, and with a resigned sigh she went to crouch before it. She stroked its smooth, rounded frame, touched the inscription her father had carved: Create Emotion.
Gingerly picking it up, she plucked a scale. Father's voice came to her. "Never forget your daily scales, daughter. Practice makes perfect!" Thinking of Father almost had her drop it again.
With closed eyes, she began a lullaby, allowing the cascade of tones to soothe her, ease the tensions. Near the end she blinked away a lonely tear.
Clap-clap-clap.
"Beautiful!"
Celegiel jumped at the applause and strange voice, her heartbeat increasing. Turning around, she noticed a tall, copper-haired elf nimbly balancing on one of the branches that surrounded her treehouse.
How dared he! Her home was private, nobody was allowed up here, least of all an ellon, a male elf!
She glared at him and pointedly pulled the window shutters close. In the gloomy darkness of her room, she heard a slight rustle as the ellon climbed down.
Voices drifted to her from below.
"The elleth who lives there, who is she?"
"Ai, 'tis poor Celegiel Merenoriell."
Nosy elf! What business had he, questioning about her? And the one he talked with was Niphredil, of course, that meddlesome old healer.
"She seemed sad," said the ellon.
"Aye, she has not spoken to anyone in several moons. She has not long left, I fear." Niphredil sighed dramatically. "Something happened on her way here from Lothlórien." The healer lowered her voice, murmuring the rest.
