Salt: 2. Beleriand  Reader Toolbox   Log in for more tools  2.
Beleriand   When Grandfather was murdered, the sea was denied a
taste of his blood and our grief; that was spilled onto the land
of Aman, where such things such as the treachery of Morgoth had
been deemed impossible by all save my father. He'd shouted as
loudly as he could about it, but no one listened. They'd exiled
him. They'd exiled him because he'd raised his protest at a
portent rather than an actual provocation. I'd felt it too. As
he sat in Formenos, his hands lying useless in his lap, grown
bitter to hide his fear, I believed that he understood me then,
as he never had before.   Or maybe not-for he turned his efforts
to building locks and cages for that which he held dear, as
though metal could withhold fate. Not the case: as in my
grandfather's paintings of the sea, it loomed larger than even
the most important actions by the most powerful of us.  On the
long ride back to Tirion, my brothers wept and the earth drank
their tears. Did life