Yet, he would not say they were lesser. The way the Sun moved across the sky meant that one could see time passing with precision. And the Moon was... well, its waywardness was interesting. It had personality to it. And it gave them the gift of occasional lightless nights, where all the stars could be seen in all their glory.
Hehe...Hehehehehheheheheh IT'S THE MOON! đđ
As he mused, Edrahil sat on a bench and opened his small bag, taking out an apple, some bread and sheepâs milk cheese. He ate slowly, savouring the flavours. How good it was to no longer have only the raw meat of various sea
creatures to eat, as had to be endured for the latter half of the crossing of the HelcaraxĂ«. He shuddered slightly at the thought. ...No doubt it would be a while before heâd even be able to eat cooked meat happily again.
This was relatable for me as it was not. You'll start feeling sick if you eat something over and over, but it's something else to just simply have no other choice. I think this showed how just anything can trigger PTSD for people very well.
Enyalion paused, looking him up and down. âShould I even be calling you âladâ anymore, Hravindo? It seems to me you have grown a little taller since we first met, short as that time may be. Are you at your majority?â
Edrahil clasped his hands behind his back to avoid fidgeting awkwardly. âI have a few years to go yet. Iâm eighty-five years oldâno actually. Eighty-six. Just today.â
IT'S MY BABY'S BIRTHDAY!!!
Young Eddie is just as polite and
precious as his older self. And thank you Enyalion for being there for this lil guy and giving him a purpose.
Eru knows this was the thing he most needed.
Edrahil nodded and thanked him again. As he retrieved his bag and slung it over his shoulder, he remembered something. âOh, there was something I was meaning to ask today. ...Could I take a bit of clay with me? I think I want to try sculpting something out of it. And bring it back here to fire it, if itâs any good. ...Just for fun, you know.â
Such a polite little artist.đ„ș
he left the workshop and walked down to his favourite spot on the lake shore, about halfway between his fatherâs house and Enyalionâs shop. It was a quiet place, where the water was a deep dark greyish blue, the lake bed dropping down sharply beneath the surface.
Edrahil sat on a small mat of dried rushes he had left there, to avoid sitting on the somewhat damp ground. The water lapped gently at the dark grey-brown soil, and the slight breeze rustled the reeds that grew here and there on either side.
I really liked the imagery of this bit. It was very easy to see it in my head.
Now it had been brought to his mind again, stirring his imagination.
I think I will try and sculpt him, the way I saw him then. It was the closest I had ever been to one of the Valar. And itâs something nicer and more hopeful to think about than the Doom, anyway.
Me knowing what's gonna happen: đ
The end of the spear rested against the side of his foot, and he held the spear out in front of himself, as though on guard, or watching for something. Edrahil thought the figureâs arm still looked rather stiff;
OromĂ«âs posture had been much easier, and slightly relaxed. Still, it was not a bad start. He would keep working away at it, and hopefully fix that. He dipped a finger in the water and gently rubbed the arm with it, as it was starting to dry a little.
I just have to add this here. I absolutely adore the way you picture the world through his eyes. It makes it so easy to believe this character is actually a professional artist. It doesn't feel forced on the reader at all. I've read about various characters who are supposed to be
the master of something but the knowledge of the writer was just so lacking on that subject that I didn't really but it from them.
âHey, Hravindo.â
Edrahil froze upon hearing the voice. Accompanied by several pairs of approaching footfalls, which came to a halt behind him.
The pair of feet belonging to the voice stopped beside him. âWhatâre you doing there?â
None of your dang business, little toad! Go away!
Edrahil glanced aside at him, and hesitated for a moment, before slowly handing the figure over. It was only SĂșrecĂĄro, after all. He got along well with him most days. ...The only concerning thing was that he was here with the rest of them. That... often changed things.
But there was no good reason to refuse such a seemingly innocent request. Especially as there had been many such instances in the past which had indeed turned out to be genuine. ...Not to mention that refusing to engage with any of them tended to push their interactions into the âsourâ territory rather more quickly.
Eddie is too nice. I would have shoved the left over clay up his nose, hoping it would somehow improve his face. Though the clay was perhaps too precious for such a thing.
Manyando, the tallest, scoffed. âDonât be ridiculous, SĂșrecĂĄro.â He paused, then smirked. â...Who on earth would take Hravindo and his skinny behind?â
More laughter, from everyone this time.
Perhaps I should leave this part alone. Whatever I say would have me banned from TTF.
Also, FYI, he pulled
the princess, you pig.
The tall youth stepped forward, his eyes glimmering, and his mouth contorted with something like pain. He snatched the figure from SĂșrecĂĄroâs hand. The outstretched arm holding the spear bent and folded in his grasp. âWhat a useless piece of filth youâve made there. What hunter gives up the chase so easily, leaving us to deal with the runaway
Vala ourselves?â
Nessa would have him skinned twice because of this. Insulting her master and bullying people? Oh, little man, aren't you in hot waters?
Edrahil sprang at Manyando, but before he could so much as touch him, let alone land a blow, his arms were caught by SĂșrecĂĄro and his cousin, who had closed in from either side. Edrahil grunted, his shoulders having been painfully yanked from the sudden stop. Manyando stepped back, smirking. âYou canât just go attacking people like that, Hravindo. The punishment should fit the crime!â
âTeach him a lesson!â someone else shouted gleefully from behind.
Nessa (Athena): Let's teach this thug a lesson, in front of all his kind!
Beats the kid
Manyando crouched down in front of him, looking serious and almost contrite. âAh, did they hurt you? Iâm sorry. You didnât draw any of my blood, so I suppose that was unfair of them.â He looked down at the lumpy clay ball in his hand, then back at Edrahil. âHere. Let me help.â
He broke off a piece of clay and began smearing it over Edrahilâs cheek. The small wound felt like it was being scraped raw. Edrahilâs breath came faster, but he pressed his lips together and did not make a sound, not wanting to give them the reaction they were seeking. There were a few quiet snickers from the others gathered around. The giggling increased as Manyando continued smearing trails of clay over the rest of Edrahilâs face, with insulting gentleness.
Do you know you can get cancelled for this?
Tapes everything
Edrahil shifted to his knees and sat up slowly. He sat there for a moment, looking at his clenched fists on his knees, suppressing the shudders in each breath and blinking away the prickling in his eyes. I am not going to shed any tears over those fools. I am not. In his right hand, the mangled lump of clay stared out sadly from the cage of his fingers.
Edrahil hiccupped out a dry sob and tore his gaze away. He stood up, picked up his bag and the cloth that lay near it, and wet the cloth in the lake. He wrapped his ball of clay up again, shoved it in his bag and left the lake shore, heading back home.
I just wanted to give him a warm hug then. đ„ș
My word against that of several others. ...It would be enough to start a feud between families, depending on who believes me. I just cannot trust it would turn out well. Not worth it. Not for my sake alone.
The princes of
Noldor are more fair than you give them credit for, precious little boy. đ„ș
Edrahil picked up a piece of charcoal and a small notebook half-filled with sketches from his desk, and headed back downstairs to the main room. He settled in his favourite seat by the window and doodled
plants and strange
creatures of his own imagining, all while letting his mind wander here and there.
Again with artistic mind!
VĂłrimindo nodded at him and sat down heavily on the couch opposite, with a sigh. Then his gaze focused itself on Edrahilâs face, and he frowned. âYour cheek, Hravindo. What happened?â
Bad kids happened, Papa bear! Let's go beat them up together!
Edrahil looked down. He certainly wasnât about to tell the whole truth to his father either. Lord VĂłrimindo had enough problems to deal with as it was, managing their people in this new land, and looking out for their interests in meetings with other chieftains and heads of families. Edrahil would deal with this on his own. âI was at the lake shore. I fell and hit my face against a stone.â
VĂłrimindo raised an eyebrow. âThat sort of thing seems to be happening rather a lot, of late. I would have thought you were past the age where such clumsy mishaps most commonly occur.â
Edrahilâs eyes prickled, his vision blurring. The wound, the true one at his heart, was still raw. Despite his decision, such cold, matter-of-fact words were hard to accept on top of everything else, and he could no longer hold back his tears.
âAh, Hravo...â There was a tinge of regret in his fatherâs voice. âI did not mean it like that. Every individualâs growth happens differently, of course, and it is no failing on your part. Come here, son.â
I know it was likely not your intention, but it reminded me of our earlier convo with mosquito! đ
Lord Vorimindo reminds me of
Fingolfin a little. Gentle heart, he has.
His father spoke again, more softly. âIf my remark hit a sore spot, then I am sorry, Hravindo. Has this been troubling you long?â
Edrahil raised his head slightly from his fatherâs chest. âItâs... itâs not that, Atya. Itâs just...â He paused.
â...I miss them.â His voice cracked.
VĂłrimindo lightly placed a hand on Edrahilâs head. âAs do I,â he murmured.
The two of them sat together in silence until the evening meal was ready.
And although Edrahil had not told his father all that was acutely troubling him in that moment, he had not lied. He indeed missed them greatly. His mother, left behind in
Tirion. His grandparents, and his two dearest friends, all lost on the Helcaraxë. Each grievous absence made his current hardships that much more difficult to bear.
It was a sweet moment to witness. We only have a mention of Eddie's father so far on QFYH, but we can see hear why his loss is so keenly felt. Such a person desrves to be missed.
And of course, there are others mentioned, and we get to see the inner struggles of this younger Edrahil as well as his external problems, which are those bullies.
And there was Nethien, returning to her chamber to âget some restâ.
Look who's here!đ
Clad in a deep green cloak and hood, large enough to completely cover her white clothing and pale hair, Nethien slipped out of the
fortress, and soon was lost in
the shadows of the streets.
I really appreciate the attention to details here, in which Nessa is still wearing mourning white clothes.
Edrahil stopped as he came to an area where
trees grew right by the water, gnarled willows dipping their trailing branches into the shadowy ripples below. A large log lay half in the water, a fallen grey tree trunk with most of its branches rotted away.
Alright, hereâs far enough. I still want to have some time to sleep tonight.
Edrahil sat down upon the log, laid his clay-working tools out upon the smooth wood, shifted his posture to ensure he had as much moonlight as possible, and began reshaping his piece of clay. The figure would be slightly smaller than before, but that was no matter.
The Willow tree! I know the reason behind your choice here, but it also happens that Nessa's fav tree (And mine too!) is the willow tree. Again, loved the imagery!
The figure bowed its head and... sniffled? Then it moved closer to the water, and sat upon one of the boulders, drawing its knees up to its chest. The lower end of the cloak parted as it did so, revealing white skirts.
Edrahil relaxed slightly, frowning in confusion. A nĂs?
More like future lover of yours, my lad!đ
Edrahil continued working. He finished the face, and started adding more texture to the hair. His movements slowed, his mind occupied with the quiet outpouring of grief a few paces away. A tear fell onto the moist clay. Edrahil stopped, and wiped his damp cheek with his sleeve.
He wondered if she was also feeling the same as he had been earlier in the day.
Awwww! Precious little boy! Again with the foreshadowing of his empathic character.
Does she have no close family with which to grieve?
They're finwians. It's...complicated.
And if, for some reason, she welcomed it... what sort of comfort could I even give her?
The only thing he could think of was to sit beside her, or offer her a hug. He grimaced and buried his face in his palm. No, he was decidedly not going to hug a strange nĂs. How awkward.
She would be glad to have a hug, little guy.
Still, he thought, as he glanced over at the huddled figure on the rock. It is sad. I hope she has someone at home who can embrace her, wherever she lives.
But it won't be an Eddie hug now, would it?
The place by the willows became another favourite haunt of Edrahilâs. On the few occasions he went there at night, he always saw the lady in the dark green cloak. It was a favourite spot of hers, too, it seemed. But not a happy one. For every time, she was only there to cry.
Don't worry. You'll give her a fav spot soon.
It was amazing! Although I was privy throughout the whole process of writing this, the result had me surprised and taken aback, somehow. It's alway a delight to read about Edrahil, tiny or big and strong, and this was no exception.
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