Title: Beleriand Falling
Fandom: Silmarillion
Challenge: Pet
Other prompt: TSFW April prompts: Sudden change of the weather, 222 fixed length
Rating: G
Length: 222
Content notes: N/A
Author notes: Thanks go to Zhie & Runa for encouragement & sanity-checking.
Summary: Was it the end of the world?



Even the weather seemed to think it was the end of the world. The local world at any rate. It seemed Ulmo and Manwe were tussling with Melkor's remaining atmospheric Maiar. Heat and cold, sun and shadow, hail, rain, wind, dust, fog, and lightning would appear, staying for hours or moments before being displaced by some other raucous weather. There was no apparent pattern to it, and the best the remaining denizens of Beleriand could do was endure what could not be safely traveled in, and make their slow way East, with the world coming apart behind them.

Would the Blue Mountains stop the storms? Halt the creeping fissures in the ground? Could any mountain made from merely natural forces, however encouraged by Aule and his earth-shapers?

The world was not meant to be a plaything of any of the Ainur, no matter how often Morgoth Bauglir proclaimed it his, and fondled the monsters he made, calling them pets before loosing them on Beleriand Beleaguered. How many monsters could Angband possibly hold? It seemed they were as numerous and varied as the capricious storms, until one looked closer. At the sameness, the rote diminution of the beings from whence they came. Numerous, yes, as varied, no. Not even pets, individually delighted in; only copies, destructive and dreadful, brewing up storms of revulsion.