#(awed)

"It's you!"

An absolutely phenomenal in every way commission from @crownleys, for a scene with Nat and Farah from one of my Wayhaven fics - "Shopping for Home".

The awed bag simple (pencil case)

In the deepest dark of night

Alone with the silence of my mind

I say a desperate prayer

Hoping your wisdom find

Anything to keep your name on my lips

If only you were here

Keeping bad thoughts at bay

Banishing all my fears

Fairytale Endings are fiction

Children kept awed and astounded

Real life is never that easy

Hardships and dangers abound it

Reality is harsh and unweildly

It never goes according to plan

Just once I want the White Knight

The Prince, the Castle, and Ever After Land

Mablung paused in the act of collecting pinecones for playing and raised his head, listening. Had that been his mother calling him? He hastily climbed down the tree he had been sitting in, trying his best to wipe the sticky resin off his hands, and made his way back to the shores of the great lake. As he drew closer, he could tell that a vast number of people was already gathered there, and more were approaching, like he was, out of the woods or from further down the shoreline. Amidst the crowd stood Oromë, towering over the Quendi, yet looking as excited as a young boy. Despite the serene expression on the Vala’s face, Mablung felt rather cowed by him, and when he spotted his mother at last amid the crowd and hurried to her side, he pressed his face into the rough fabric of her gown. She stroked his head reassuringly and took him by the hand, leading him closer to where Oromë stood. Clutching her fingers tightly, he allowed his gaze to wander over the assembled crowd, and marvelled- never before had he seen so many Quendi in one place, or at least he could not recall it. They all looked towards the lake, where Lord Oromë stood central by the water’s edge. By the Vala’s side was a golden haired elf that Mablung had seen only a few times, and of whom he knew nothing apart from his name being Ingwë, and that he was a prince of the Minyar. Ingwë smiled a little, a smile that showed both his excitement and his confidence, even as he comforted the young child in his wife’s arms. 

Mablung did not understand much of what was being discussed, only enough to grasp that Oromë wished them all to leave (which was no news, of course), and that, given that the Quendi were hesitant, he intended to take three ambassadors with him to the Blessed Realm, so that they could see with their own eyes that Oromë’s tales were true. Ingwë , it appeared, had at once volunteered, despite having a small family of his own to look after, and as Mablung now watched, Finwë rose from where he had sat on a boulder with his betrothed, to stand beside Ingwë, thus volunteering himself for that journey. Mablung rolled his eyes a little. He dearly loved Finwë for all the adventures they shared, and for his kind heart, but he was as indecisive as a leaf caught in the wind. Not so long ago, Finwë had been convinced that the Vala told naught but lies, and now he was prepared to follow him into the unknown. Oromë nodded appreciatively.

“It fits well.” he said. “The last in direct line of the house of Imin- or at least the last that can make such a journey, the last in direct line of the house of Tata…”

Mablung, with a feeling that bordered on foreboding, glanced quickly to where Elwë sat with his brothers. Surly Oromë would not think of taking Elwë with him, who had so recently lost his parents and now was responsible for raising his youngest brother? 

It appeared, however, that the Vala was thinking along precisely those terms, for he looked at Elwë too, saying gently: “Rightly, as the last in line of the house of Enel, it falls upon you to take the place as the third ambassador, Elwë. Are you willing to accompany me to Aman, representing your house and the tribe of the Nelyar?”

All around Mablung, a murmur went through the crowd, and they all watched silently as the young prince stood, proud, but also very obviously trembling with fear.

“I am!”

A kind smile lit the Vala’s face, but even as Elwë bowed, little Elmo jumped to his feet as well, wrapping his arms around his brother’s legs, nails digging into his tunic.

“Don’t go!”

Elwë gently stroked his little brother’s silvery head, looking down at him with a sad smile on his face.

“I’ll be back! And then I’ll tell you all the stories of…”

“Don’t go!” Elmo repeated, sobbing now. “I don’t want to hear any stories, I just want you to be here with us.”

Mablung’s heart clenched with pity, for it needed little imagination to guess how Elmo must feel. Mablung himself was years older than Elmo, but the mere thought of losing his mother and father and then being left also by the sibling that now acted the role of a parent still brought tears to his eyes. Trying his best to chase them away, he pressed himself harder against his mother, feeling her reassuring warmth, comforted by the gentle touch of her hand on his shoulder.

Elwë had meanwhile detached himself from Elmo’s clutches and knelt down so that he could look the crying child in the eyes.

“I promise I will return.” he said quietly, with as much reassurance as he managed to put into those words while his own voice shook with suppressed emotion. 

“Take me with you Elwë, don’t leave me, please!” Elmo pleaded desperately.

“I am not leaving you, Elmo. I will return, Lord Oromë will see that we will come to no harm, and everyone here is going to protect you. But I need you to be very brave now, to be brave for me. And to keep an eye on Olwë, or he’ll think he can do whatever he wants while I’m gone!”

This small jest did nothing to cheer Elmo up, and as Elwë rose, Olwë lifted their little brother up from behind, cradling him softly. For a long moment, Elwë and Olwë just looked at each other, saying a wordless farewell, then Olwë lowered his gaze, pressing Elmo yet more tightly to his chest, whose sobs rang in Mablung’s ears.

“What will happen to Elmo now, Ambe?” Mablung asked his mother timidly, snuggling still closer to her.

“He’ll be cared for by his wider family. The Quendi care for their orphans, you know that! It has always been so, and shall ever be!”