Hello all. First of all I’d laike to say that I am not Tolkien (duh) I am not him and do not him and do not wish to be him. He is my inspiration and I am merely using some of his characters, and some of his settings. I would really appreciate it if you posted your comments and critiques, as to let me know how I’m doing.
Elurín came to his senses in the woods of Doriath. He shook his brother Elurèd, four years the elder. “Wake up Elurèd wake up,” he uttered that cry many times, but despite his brother’s obvious efforts to rouse him, Elurèd would not wake. Elurín, fearing the wrost, put his palm on Elurèd’s forehead. It felt very cold. A doom then crept over the young heir of Thingol. He held his brother’s limp, cold hand in his and put two fingers on his wrist. He felt no pulse.
Tears dripped down from his eyes onto Elurèd’s face. For long he sat there and wept at his brother’s death. At last though, Elurín rose from his brother’s corspe. He searched for a spot to start, and dug a hole for his brother’s body. Long was his labour, but the young Lord of Beleriand continued to dig, and dig. He used his finger nails and used his hands and continued to dig until at last the hole was deep enough to be called a mound. He lowered the body into the hole and covered it with dirt. He patted the soil and made it smooth. He then used a long, thick twig to write in the Runes of Daeron Elurèd’s name and great inheiretance.
After that, he took the tiny seedlings of niphredil flowers and put them under the soil. And niphredil have bloomed on the
Bar-ed-Elurèd, Mound of the Heir of Thingol until the world was broken and changed.
Elurín sat now deep in thought of what to do. He was a young elf with absolutely nothing. As thought of casting himself into a river passed through his head, he looked upon the Bar-ed-Elurèd. He had managed to construct that in two days. He was now the last Lord of Beleriand. He had two choices: To drown himself in a river and end the strength, glory, and majesty of the Lords of Beleriand or to rise up in splendour and reclaim the throne of Doriath later. The choice was simple.
Elurín was an exact replica of Thingol. His hair was a silky black and his eyes were silver white and glistening. His nose was proud curved like the beak of a falcon (though not as long mind you). He had a history of being prideful and often scornful of others. He had been told over and over by his elders that pride was a dangerous thing to posess. He cared not for what his elders had to say, for it seemed to him that none of it was of any importance. He still kept the same prideful manner.
Elurín now stood and walked away from the Bar-ed-Elurèd. He purposed to travel to the Bay of Belfalas, where Círdan his kinsman. Yet fate had other plans and the young elf took a wrong turn on his way to Belfalas. And so the fate of Arda was wrought.
Those of you who haven’t read the Silmarillion yet, Elurèd and Elurín are the Sons of Dior and the brothers of Elwing. Elurèd means Heir of Thingol and Elurín means Rememberance of Thingol.