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Curious Coldness

Chapter 1: Curious Coldness

by Anguirel

Curious Coldness

Tolkien owns the characters and place, not me. Sorry.

Author’s Note: An entry for Open Scrolls’ Challenge “Winter Wonderland”. Not entirely 1000 words or anything joyous and festive. But it involves snow, and snow falls in winter...


What is it?

He seemed so curious as he tried to grasp the tiny flakes to no avail. A child almost, yet not at all.

Why does it come down from the sky? It’s cold! This is ridiculous.

He stood tall, on the deck of the white vessel, and only when they approached the shore did he notice the things that fell from the clouds. How frail they were, disappearing in his palms as if they were never there to begin with. In all his long years he never saw this before. He gazed at the falling feather-like objects, scattering on the boards of the ship like a silvery white blanket yet icy to touch.

It made no sound; these simple little things, they were so gentle and pure. Playfully, he stuck out his tongue and drew it back quickly when the freezing petals landed.


For that was surely what it tasted like. But why was this water white? Why did this water come from Manwë’s heavens rather than Ulmo’s streams? Did the Valar do this to confuse the Eldar? Confused he was, he gave the Valar that, but what was the point? He tested the taste once more, but it was barely enough to fill him like a draught would.

He sighed sadly, not solving the secret of the cold petals, and his gray eyes widened. Was he breathing smoke? Another heavy breath came from his lungs revealing the puffs that came from his slightly open mouth. Was the Valar finally having their revenge? Would he burn from the inside? But he did not feel hot. The contrary, he felt cold.

“What is this?” he muttered.

“It is snow,” came a voice from behind him gently.

The elf turned around, and there stood Fëanáro. He too looked at the snow in wonder, but it didn’t seem to bother him. The fire within his soul was hot indeed.

“Your grandfather saw it in Middle-earth when the elves awoke,” he said quietly grasping a falling snow flake and finding only a droplet of water.

“We wouldn’t know this for we lived in snow-less Aman,” he said walking to the tall elf’s side and looking up to him.

His father’s eyes resembled this snow, he noticed. Cold and intangible, but it wasn’t always so. Why would the snow only fall here? he asked himself. So full of questions was he as of late. Things became more fascinating, yet more fell as the time progressed.

“You will be seeing more snow, Nelyafinwë, for many years to come.” Fëanáro stared off into the endless horizon, as if he regretted the snow and Middle-earth. But Maedhros would not know, for never would he question his father about such tidings that struck so close to the heart.

The snow came down swifter now, and it did not effect Maedhros much. The cold was comforting as heat was comforting, it simply did not matter. It was just another surprise, and the thought of this snow amused him. Would this be the only joy? He could not help but ask his fëa.

Somehow though, the road seemed more rocky then it did pure. More clouded and dark then he wished it to be white and clear. This was new, and it would be something he’d long for as long as he stayed in Middle-earth.

Fëanáro is the mother name of Fëanor
Nelyafinwë is the father name of Maedhros
fea is spirit in Quenya