Whispering Winds

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The realm of Fingon was no more; and the sons of Fëanor wandered as leaves
before the wind. Their arms were scattered, and their league broken; and they
took to a wild and woodland life beneath the feet of Ered Lindon, mingling with
the Green-elves of Ossiriand – Of the Fifth Battle, The Silmarillion
‘Apples again, apples for breakfast, apples for lunch and now apples for dinner,’
thought Caranthir as he gripped the apples tight enough to bruise.  ‘I
have had enough of apples.’
The next moment, the apple went flying through the air towards the fire, but
before it was ruined by the searing heat of the fire, it was caught by an agile
Laiquendi maiden,  “Lord Caranthir, I am aware that the Noldor prefer the
flesh of beasts to the humble bounty of the trees,” she said tartly, her green
eyes glittering like emeralds in the firelight with indignation.  “Yet
for the sake of others, please do not waste.”  With that, she gave the
apple to an elf sitting nearby, one of Caranthir’s own men, who hungrily devoured
it.
Caranthir turned away in disgust.  Only few short years ago that man would
have scoffed to even speak to a Laiquendi, let alone eat an apple one of them
condescended to grant him. Yet this, this was what he and his men had been reduced
to. It seemed but a short time ago when he had been sitting in his own halls,
in his own land, surrounding by riches, eating only the best from plates of
gold. Why, the least lovely of his treasures would have been like a wonder to
these Moriqeundi, and the plainest of his fare, a feast.  Now, but now
he ate off leaves, touched only gifts of the olvar, and killed no kelvar, for
that was the way of the Laiquendi, and if he wished to dwell among them, he
would have to respect their customs. Their customs, what of the Noldor? Where
they not the noblest of all the elven kin, at least in Middle Earth, if not
in the whole of Arda?
Abruptly Caranthir stood up and stalked out of the clearing,
away from the low fire, his dispirited men, and company of the Green elves of
Ossiriand. He needed to think, he needed to remind himself that as rustic and
backwards as the Laiquendi were, they were now his only friends and allies.
He had to remind himself to hold his anger in check before he did something
truly stupid.
Footsteps behind him: low enough that not even a sharp eared
doe would be frightened but loud enough to ring in his trained hunter ears,
“What do you want?” he snapped.
Silence, “I said,” he whirled around violently, “what do you want, Ninglorrîn?”
he demanded of the entirely too brave Laiquendi maiden.  “Have you not
humiliated me enough for one night?”
For a moment she said nothing. She just stood and studied
him with calm patience, her green eyes glittering, her reddish gold hair fluttering
slightly in the wind, her pale skin shimmering in the moonlight. Suddenly Caranthir’s
throat went dry, a terrible, aching hunger rose from deep within him, and he
cursed Morgoth for bringing him to this Eru forsaken place loudly in his mind.
She was beautiful, even by elvish standards. She was brave, not a willing warrior
but a very deadly archer when forced to fight and a skilled healer who knew
much of herb lore; but for all that just a Laiquendi and so far beneath him
that this unbearable longing, his insatiable hunger and the overwhelming love
he felt for her would have to be ruthlessly crushed.
He turned away from her, silently cursing the weavers of her worn sea green
dress for allowing it to show so much of her skin.  “If you have nothing
to say to me, then I bid you good night.”
A hand on his shoulder.  How in the name of the
Valar did she move that fast? She had been at least ten strides away from him.
Reluctantly he turned around, “What?”
She smiled a soft smile and raised her strawberry pink lips to his slightly
quivering ones and brushed them lightly, pulling away almost immediately. “I
know you are proud man, Lord Caranthir,” she said evenly, even as he was reeling
from the too brief taste of her he had received.  “Yet your pride is sending
you to bed hungry and for no good reason.”  Then she was gone, leaving
Caranthir acutely aware of the grumbling of his stomach and the longing of his
heart.
******
Translations:
[i] Ninglor = golden water-flower, rîn = crowned lady, so
Ninglorrîn means golden water-flower crowned lady.
[ii] Laiquendi = green elves
[iii] Olvar = plants, Kelvar = animals
Author’s notes: Firstly a big thanks to Lady Legrace. In the Essay "Of Men and
Dwarves" (The Peoples of Middle-Earth, History of Middle Earth vol. 12),
Tolkien states that Caranthir is married literally in one line "Others
who were wedded were Maelor (Maglor) and Caranthir." The Peoples of Middle-Earth,
History of Middle Earth, the good professor does not give any more information
on Caranthir’s wife so I am saying that he swallowed his pride and prejudice
and wedding a very forward Green elven maiden, who loves toying with him, hehehehhehehhehehehehehehehehe.
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