Mellow Soulmate AU. The birth of Gil-Galad. And more elven strangeness. All Sindarin names. Also, written from the POV of an OFC--Fingon's wife Sáriel, to be specific. She's my head-canon character and shows up in several other pieces, including "Treat", which I would say is the fluffy counterpart to this rather ambiguous, strange thing. It should be noted that this story prods a little bit at the nonexistent culture of the Avari (because Sáriel is technically a dark-elf as she is not a noldo, sinda or nanda and came over Ered Luin into Beleriand), so that's why it's there. Probably takes place in Mithrim in the year FA 450.
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the Silmarillion. The OFC is mine.
Pairings: Fingon x Sáriel
Characters: Sáriel, Fingon, Gil-Galad (mentions Eru and Morgoth (sort of))
Warning: canon-compliant AU, OFC, Fingon is straight (*gasp*), mentions war, precognition (because elves are weird like that; you didn't think Galadriel was the only one right?)
Song: The Burdened
Words: 1,079
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stormy (adjective): relating to, characterized by, or indicative of a storm; marked by turmoil or fury
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/stormy
Perhaps it was superstitious to listen to old sayings and tales passed through generations. They were nothing more than chronicles of a people forever overshadowed by the darkness of the North, a people hardened and sharpened as steel by the misfortunes of the world--hardly the truth.
But Sáriel felt unsettled nevertheless.
Outside, the rain pounded against the glass of the windows, miniscule fists banging, grasping the panes and shaking, rattling them until it seemed they might crack under the pressure. The wind bore down upon the land, snagging and tearing at the trees until they bent and bowed beneath the greater force, surrendering to nature's adamantine strength. Even though it was midday, the outside was dark with the thick, swirling soup of clouds overhead, decorated only with the vivid flashes of the heaven's fire streaking in white and violet downwards.
And thunder shook the earth. It shook her certainty.
It was just a stupid old saying, that children born unto a stormy night would lead a stormy life full of turmoil and conflict. She had never seen proof in the flesh, and no one had ever told tales of its prowess. Yet somewhere in her chest, a feeling was growing greater and greater by the hour as her body prepared to bring her child into the unrest of the outside world. That feeling settled itself down, dug its burrow into the hillside of her heart and refused to be moved from its cozy nest of riotous emotion and worry.
Perhaps she was being ridiculous about the entire thing. It was just the hormones and the anxiety of being so close to the birth. That was it. That had to be it. There was nothing at all to be worried about except the wellbeing of herself and the baby.
Besides, the rain would pass before it was time.
Sáriel settled in and waited.
---
The rain did not abate, nor did the thunder. Rather, it seemed intent upon tearing open the earth's fabric and cracking the foundations of the mountains and seas. As the afternoon spent itself into evening, the storm only seemed to gain momentum, the winds becoming stronger until the windows creaked in warning and the whistling grew shrill and loud.
Fingon returned from his duties looking tired and just as out-of-sorts as Sáriel had been feeling since arising from bed that morning. But he still had a fond smile for the sight of his wife and unborn child, still had his arms spread wide in an invitation that Sáriel eagerly accepted, slipping herself into the safety of the circle of his embrace.
"Good evening, hervess-nín," he murmured into her hair as his arms pulled her taut to the broad expanse of his chest. Beneath her ear, his heartbeat was echoing strong. "Are you feeling well? Do you need anything?"
"No, nothing..." She settled against his comforting warmth and sighed. "I feel strange."
His grip tightened ever so slightly. "Strange?"
"Yes. There is a foreboding feeling in the air today. It has been tugging at the back of my mind for attention all afternoon." Why would it not leave her be? "Your heir will be born before sunrise."
"What a day to be born," he replied, laughing shallowly. "The storm has not shown any signs of letting up. It might very well continue on into the morning."
That is what I was afraid of.
"Let us hope for a few rays of Ithil to grace the child's birth." She pulled away and kissed Fingon's cheek softly. "Best that you fetch the healers to our chambers, hervenn-nín. It will not be long now, I suspect."
---
When Ereinion Son of Fingon came squalling into the world, it was still a world of tumultuous, roaring and the screams of a million rain droplets on thick glass and stone which he first beheld. It was almost hard to hear the child's loud cries over the noise, but they were there, and Sáriel's heart was in her throat, because that was her son she could hear. He was real and he was well.
It was Fingon who brought the child to her waiting, empty arms, his face split wide with a grin that was both tired but at the same time radiant as the stars. What a proud father her silly husband was!
"Our son," he introduced as he sat himself beside her upon the bed, his voice barely audible. The bundle of white cloth was passed along, soft whines rising from within the thick cocoon.
The first sight of her child's face was white on shadow--lightning flashed sharply from beyond the thin curtains and momentarily blinded her with its brightness. The thunder followed afterwards, deep rumbling, announcing to the entirety of the world the new presence of this child of noble and wild blood. Her son.
And the feeling was overwhelming. Ridiculous or not, it sat heavy in her breast as she looked down into the milky blue eyes of the babe. They would probably fade to gray quickly. Gray to match the color of the heavens above, dark and deep, not the pale, bleached silver of the stars. She could well imagine him in her mind's eye.
Her fingertips traced over a cheek and were grasped by a chubby little fist, brought to a toothless mouth, and Sáriel nearly wept--for joy or sorrow she could not tell.
"Hello, Ereinion," she whispered, leaning down to kiss the child's brow. "Welcome."
Welcome to a world of beauty and discord, my storm-child. A world of battles laying siege to the vast plains and towering mountains and free, fiery people as this storm lays siege to our fortress in the finite dark of night. This is your home.
And some part of her knew that this child would never see true peace, that he would grow up in the midst of war and take his father's place as a prideful king, ready and willing to lead his people into victorious battle with all the passionate fire of his untamed ancestors. It was not the life she would have chosen for her son, but no one could fight destiny as it was written by Eru Almighty. The music would carry her son on his path to his final destination as was woven in the timeless, resonating chords of forever.
Perhaps it was superstitious, but Sáriel believed.
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I can honestly say that I don't remember how I came up with this very strange idea. It just happened, okay? As for the old wives' tales and junk, Tolkien neglected to give the Avari culture and language, and therefore I can do with them as I please. This is, of course, the result. I can see a people constantly plagued by the evil of Morgoth becoming rather superstitious and cautious without the guidance of the Valar to give them "proper" ideas and guidelines.
In any case, there you have it. This is just exploring Sáriel a bit more as a character; the last story with this pairing I wrote from Fingon's POV. Anyway, written to the song The Burdened by Takeharu Ishimoto--it's from the Crisis Core OST. Ah, Crisis Core, the only FF game that has ever made me cry. Gaia! Why did you have to die Zack? *sobs*
It's a pretty song. Actually, a rather large amount of Crisis Core music is quite lovely. Poke if you have time. I recommend Fulfilled Desire.
Just side news: broken 100,000 words with these little stories. Makes me happy :3.
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