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Fandom Drabbles and Ficlets

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1. Chapter One: Morwen/Telemain, Enchanted Forest Chronicles

2. Chapter Two: Aiwendil, The Silmarillion, Lord of the Rings specifically.

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There is something to be said for marriage. Others would put forth the theory that there is much to say for it-where he might have disagreed in the past, Telemain now found himself reevaluating his seemingly archaic position. An institution that he had previously surmised to entail nothing more than a distraction was, in fact, just as appealing as touted. As he watched the amber light of the sunset pour through the window and cast gentle shadows on Morwen’s face, Telemain pondered what had taken both he and Morwen to reach what now seemed like such an obvious conjecture. But to answer one query was to raise another; it was equally as perplexing as attempting to discern when they had transitioned from friendship and affection to love.

It abruptly occurred to Telemain that he must have been deep in thought for a long while-Morwen was now watching and examining him as well, an inscrutable smile on her face. The space that hung between them felt soft and vulnerable, evoking the memory of years spent watching and waiting, unable to move on in the fear of losing all in the inevitable war.

But the war was over and done, and Telemain's thoughts were broken with a soft smile from Morwen, directed at him-and how lucky he was for that.

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Aiwendil is as the birds, beasts, and trees. Time passing to him feels inconsequential, and so he often finds himself being chided for being late or disappearing. This does not change in Middle Earth. Aiwendil does.

Some things he forgets quickly; other things linger on for years, becoming dim but not forgotten. He never forgets Olórin or Curumo, but he knows that there are two others he should remember, but he does not. Aiwendil knows they were dressed radiantly in blue, but all else has gone from his mind. He’ll hear whispers from the birds on occasion, speaking of ones-like-him-but-not-him far in the East. Aiwendil hopes this means that whoever those blues are, they are safe. He ventures out on rare occasion to check on Curumo and force him away from his work. Olórin he never seems able to find, so he must, unfortunately, wait for him.

Time passes, and Aiwendil is slow to take notice. He begins to realize as Curumo seems darker and angrier, smiling and speaking to him only when he offers to help search for the Ring. His friend (and Curumo was his friend, despite his anger and his temper, they had cared about each other in Valinor) is changing, and Aiwendil doesn’t know how to help. He refuses even to walk with him in the woods and speak to the Ents as they once did. Olórin comes less and less often, and each time he comes with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Aiwendil tries to help, but there is little he can do. Truthfully, there is little that Olórin allows him to know. It is likely that he simply forgets to tell him. It hurts all the same.

Eventually, Aiwendil learns the truth. Curumo has been using him for who knows how long, and he essentially sent Olórin to his imprisonment. He helps save him, sends Gwaihir to him as soon as learns of his error, but that is not enough to heal the void that he feels. Aiwendil has failed. He has failed his friends, the beasts and the plants, his Lady. He has failed everyone. He stays near Mirkwood to assist Thranduil in any way he can, but as soon as the war has ended, he disappears.

Olórin seeks him out some months later. Aiwendil senses him before he sees him, and tucks himself away. He hears him asking the animals about where Aiwendil, their friend shaped unlike them, may be. The animals stay silent. They will not give him away. Olórin searches for him for days, and it breaks Aiwendil’s heart to keep ducking away from him and hiding. But he doesn’t deserve to return home. He failed everyone, and he no longer deserves to have a home.

Olórin leaves, and Aiwendil weeps for another friend lost. He goes to The Grey Havens and watches the ships depart; as they pass, Olórin's eyes lock with his. Aiwendil raises a hands in farewell, and melts into the forest.

Aiwendil is alone now, even among the beasts, forgotten by most and hidden to all. A wanderer, everlasting.