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| 16. Wind-Singers Volume II: The Artifact; Ioristion, Cellindien, and others, in the aftermath of The Hunt. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 11 2015, 07:39 PM (896 Views) | |
| Ioristion | Oct 17 2015, 10:45 AM Post #41 |
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Chapter XL: Brothers at Midnight In the midst of the night, Rostor did not dream of the Maia, and nor was he certain as to whether or not it was a Maia, or a figment of his own imagination arising to comfort him throughout his dreams, or mirages formed from his old wounds from his battle with the beast in the cave in the northern rim of Tum Laden in his youth. His sleep had been disturbed by horrifying visions, as he awoke within the comforting cradle of his brother's arms. Ioristion opened his eyes slowly, "Is it morning yet?" Rostor shook his head, "No............................." They leaned-in, tenderly kissing each other on the cheek, holding each other tightly. Ioristion nodded, "Tell me how you survived, my elder brother......................" He swept his golden cloak across their faces, and above their heads, as they rested in the fabric that bound their blood. The grace of the Vala comforted Rostor, giving him courage. Rostor smiled, "An old Gondorian healer, a Numenorean, one of the Faithful......... he felt a slow pulse within my hand. The poison had rendered me into a death-like state. They had wanted to burn my body, but he prevented it. Ah, Itilandil, brave healer............but you were lately gone from the City and I.....I sought Finlos at the harbor of Edhellond and I.................waited there until the port had closed forever." Ioristion nodded, "Yucalwe also dwelt nigh there for a time............" "Then either we avoided each other, or I knew naught of him..........." "He also thought you were dead................it pained him..................." Rostor nodded, "And here I am, once more, beneath his cloak............................it feels different, fairer, more wholesome than it did on that fateful night.............." Ioristion smiled, "The cloak shines anew, purified..............." There was a sudden scent of roses that made their eyes grow wide. Rostor smiled, "My younger brother..." Ioristion embraced him tightly, "Rostor....." And they vanished into the red, sweet darkness, of Yucalwe's cloak beneath the gold. And in the shadows, they buried their heads within, and then stroked each others' hair, as they were oft to do in Eregion. They felt transplaced to Rostor's ancient manse. They felt transplaced to that golden, glittering realm. They felt that they could see the holly trees again, their berries glistening like rubies in the sunlight. They felt as if they could feel the rush of blessed winds across the Ridge, rushing through their capes, creating the illusion of flight. And Ioristion whispered, "I will speak to our sister...... Cellindien is her name now........ and she has changed throughout the years.......... yet ever did she long for you..................please understand......................." And Rostor wept, sensing his own complicity, as Ioristion grasped him tightly. And once more, they slowly fell asleep in each others' arms, as the blessings of the West calmed them through their cloaks. Edited by Ioristion, Jun 13 2016, 01:56 PM.
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| Ioristion | Oct 17 2015, 11:39 AM Post #42 |
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Chapter XLI: Brave Rostor They awoke to find Rostoriel and Rirossel staring at them. Rostoriel's eyes were glistening, "For centuries...... I thought you were dead..... for thousands...........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................thousands of years.....................................where were you?" Rostor moved to speak. Rostoriel snapped, "SILENCE! ..................................................................................................................................................................where were you, brother............................................." Ioristion tried to calm her, "Well, he was waiting for Finlos on the shores of the sea, and," "SILENCE!" She snapped again. "You.......... you have destroyed me, Rostor.........................................................I long to slap you, for abandoning us................................................................................................... and yet I love you......................................................oh such -joy- and such -terror- and such -sorrow-................................................................................................................" "Do not be so harsh on him," Rirossel advised. "Rostor, my beloved brother.................................................you are far more courageous than my sisters are recognizing..........................for you are alive, my brother, you are hear, and it took grave courage to come and to weather such a storm..............................................................." Rostoriel suddenly moved to slap her sister, but Rirossel strongly grabbed her wrist, casting it down. Rirossel's retort stung as deeply as any hornet, "Oh no, my sister, you are far mistaken..................................... if you still believe that I am that poor, shy, harmless, un-loved little girl..............................and I refuse to live in your shadow any longer. Our brother has returned, and I will love him........................................" Her voice grew further in its firmness and strength, "I will love him........................................................... and so will you, my sister......................................................................................................................." Rostoriel broke-down, sobbing, and left the room. Edited by Ioristion, Oct 17 2015, 01:23 PM.
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| Ioristion | Oct 17 2015, 11:57 AM Post #43 |
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Chapter XLII: Heir of the Amath Naru Rostoriel ran outside, her dress draping on the ground behind her, her crimson silk flickering in the hasty winds that rushed off the High Moor far above, her flaming-toned hair flowing behind her. Ioristion chased her. She saw the vast gold approaching and began to run as she sobbed. She ran down the slope and nearly tripped, she ran up to a high plateau of stone nigh the river, and she ran so fast that she nearly tumbled into the depths below. Ioristion shouted, "Get away from there!" Rostoriel turned, a countenance of command within her eyes, "You DO NOT command me!" Ioristion's countenance grew stern and proud, and lordly, like that of Auruiron. His cloak swept behind him as he processed, as lordly as a High-King. He declared, "I AM the Heir of the Amath Naru, and as I am part of you, you are part of me, and so do I thence thus command, COME TO ME!" He outspread his cloak as the winds billowed it, as in the sunlight he appeared, as in one of Rostor's visions, in the silhouette of a golden eagle. Rostoriel stared at him, her tears still glittering on her cheeks. She turned and shook her head, "I will not make this easy for you, my husband." And he approached her. She did not turn around. She coldly declared, "Be gone from me." Edited by Ioristion, Oct 18 2015, 04:28 PM.
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| Ioristion | Oct 17 2015, 12:10 PM Post #44 |
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Chapter XLIII: Courage Rising After Ioristion left the room, Rostor stood, sadly, withdrawing into a corner of the room within Yucalwe's cloak that draped onto the floor around him. It appeared wider than it did the night before. They did not notice it. "S--stay away," Rostor stammered. "I..... I have hurt enough of you, I should go....................." Rirossel's voice was gentle and sweet, "No, my beloved brother, you shall not go." "I..................I shall." "No...............oh Fiery Prince Macil of Eregion, you shall not go............." She grasped the hem of his cloak and came beneath it, rising to his height beneath the folds, rising deep within to kiss his cheek. He began to weep again, but she whispered in his ear, "I am going to see courage restored in you my beloved................... brother......................" She kissed him on the cheek again, "Come.................... let us dance as we did of old...................and let us dance away the shades of foul fear......................come my Eregion Prince......" She was wearing a glittering, silver gown and cape to match, lined with flaming red, as her raven-hair flew down her back, gliding in its silken beauty. "Very well," Rostor muttered, girding himself........................."Shall we thence process?" "Yes, my Prince of Eregion." "Then grasp the hem of my vast cloak." "Yes, my Prince of Gondolin." She grasped the hem of his cloak as they processed, his cloak gliding across the room, until they were standing opposite the place of rest. "Go thence and sit," he commanded gently. She sat down across the room from him, as his cloak slowly began to billow around him, as young Rostor of Gondolin began to reawakened, reborn beneath the folds. He outspread his arms, his cloak aloft, as she stared at his glimmering beauty, but it was his courage that brought peace unto her fea, not his self-glorified appearance. She smiled as he twirled the cloak and spun, and then she rose and joined him, their cloaks playfully colliding into one, and parting as swiftly as they converged, glittering silver and black streaked with light within the sunlight that flowed through the nearby windows. And then she knelt before him as his heart was filled to the brim with courage. He declared, "Thank you, my beloved sister. For I am not afraid now, to once more speak, with she who should have been my wife." Rirossel's heart was singing as she gazed into his beaming eyes. Her brother had finally returned home. They deeply embraced within his folds, deeply kissing each other on their cheeks once more, as Rirossel commanded, "Never leave us again, my brother............." "I will not," he vowed. She smiled jovially, and as they danced and spun anew, she reached for a fold of his cloak, and their eyes grew wide, as six cloaks of equal size fell from his shoulders, while the seventh, original cloak, remained upon them. Yucalwe had secretly slipped into the room, and beheld this with glimmering eyes. He quickly ran into the shadows of the basement, grabbed the artifact off the floor, and ran upstairs anew, to find it glowing even brighter and brighter, revealing a surging swirl of powerful energy within the chamber. Terror struck his heart, but he heard Findekano's voice, rising from the ether: "Behold the Gifts of the West..............." Excitement and hope grew within Yucalwe's heart. "For whom are these Gifts!" "For you, oh Prince, of the Fiery Realm, and for you, oh daughter, of a Master of Swords, and for you, oh Southron Prince of Elvendom, and for you, oh Heir of House En-twined, of a Land of Stone, and for you, oh Son, of a Merchant Fair, and for you, oh Heir, of Amarth Naru. The main must remain upon the shoulders of the Lord of Twilight, the Son of Stars." The voice quickly faded as it came, as Yucalwe penned-down the cryptic words on a nearby desk. And then the swirling synergy came to rest upon the cloaks, and vanished within them, as the artifact lost its light as it sat upon the desk. Rirossel gathered the cloaks in her arms as she placed them on the place of rest. Yucalwe knew who several of the names were. Yucalwe stared at Rostor, "Are you still afraid, my son?" "No, my Adar, Lord of Twilight and Son of Stars." He took Yucalwe's cape, glasping it warmly on Yucalwe's shoulders, and then Rostor knelt before him. Yucalwe took one of the cloaks, blessedness rising inside his fea, for his cloaks came to match those of Auruiron, honor and true equality gained at last, as beautiful as the rising sun and rising moon and the light of the brightest stars, and Rirossel lifted Rostor's hair as Yucalwe clasped the cloak around his shoulders. Yucalwe smiled, "Rise, Heir of House Yualon." And the cloak appeared to glitter as if it contained all the Stars of Elbereth, as Rostor rose, rising from the depths of bitter grief. Edited by Ioristion, Jun 13 2016, 02:03 PM.
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| Ioristion | Oct 21 2015, 09:11 PM Post #45 |
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Chapter XLIV: The Dirge of War Yucalwe and Rirossel stared at Rostor's rejuvenation. They remained in silent wonder, as Rostor prepared himself, hour by hour, in silent mediation, carefully crafting his plan to restore himself in the mind of Cellindien. In the evening, he searched the house, but found her not, and learned of her patrols. Neither Rostoriel nor Ioristion had yet returned. Nor had Auruiron or Melimwe. And so it was that Rirossel left in search of her sister, Yucalwe of Auruiron, and Rostor, of Cellindien. He traveled throughout the Vale and, in the late-evening, found her on a northern path in the Vale. There were no other Elves in sight, and Rostor removed his disguise, revealing his new cloak. He draped it on his arms, and hooded his head, concealing his face. She was coming back from the training yard, and Rostor quickly hid behind a nearby tree. Rostor also had another cloak, draped upon his arm. For he knew the Daughter of the Swordmaster. He hid in the shadows behind the tree, blending inward, keeping his eyes shut, attempting to center his thoughts. Cellindien walked slowly along stone-paved pathway. Her armor was still fastened in place and her hair was loose and damp about her face from heavy exertion. The left vambrace hung from her right hand and the bare left arm she held against her torso. It was now or never. And if they parted forever, Rostor knew that he would die a dark and unending death. He remained in hiding, and began to softly sing the war-song he had written for the last war he ever fought, "March, soldiers, Eregion cries......... march, soldiers, Celebrimbor dies...... March, soldiers, golden domes fall....... March, soldiers, once proud and tall...... Fly, the banner, to war and woe....... Fly, our arrows, against the foe........... Let us return a newer gift......Send it unto the "Giver of Gifts"........... Wear proud oh Ring and Jewel and Sword, oh Order............ March, we march, away to Mordor......................" He drew his sword. It still had the same, ancient, weathered engravings: the script of Eregion. And tears were flowing down his face. He could see their faces, their sad, pale faces, the long years of growing accustomed to the presence of hints of ashes flowing into their lungs, the stench of the northwestern Marshes of Death rising on the wind, and the cold, grim, paths of noman's lands, the mounds of slag mounted high, the Black Gates standing defiantly against them, and now a new Black Gate now stood against him, a gate he himself had built with naught but a single sentence. Cellindien heard his voice, and her heart beat faster for it. But it slowed again and she looked up at him wearily, cradling her left arm. "What is it, Macil? You should not sing such songs here." He wanted to tear them down. He wanted to destroy that Gate he had erected. He saw the faces of his comrades-in-arms, and then....... she spoke. What did she say? He barely caught her words. He caught his name. "Macil........ have you forgotten Rostor?" |
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| Ioristion | Oct 21 2015, 09:11 PM Post #46 |
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Chapter XLV: The Forbidden He maintained his hiding spot behind the tree, though he knew that she could see him, as he re-sheathed his sword and gathered his cloaks in his arms, holding their folds tightly as they stretched around his shoulders. He fatefully uttered, "I am going to turn, Finlos Findelos Cellindien, around this tree, and prove to you that I am no coward, for no coward would dare to stare into thy piercing eyes, knowing that he might never behold them ever again, when the last time he had beheld such eyes, within a prior Age, he was struck down and left bereft on the Doors of dusty Death. And if this be the last in which I shall behold thy eyes, then better that I reveal a Fourth Kinslaying, to the history of the Noldor, and fall on mine own sword, as Turin Turambar of old among the Edain. Then shall I at last remain content, entrapped in Mandos' Halls until the end of Time. Prepare thyself, for I come thence!" He came out from behind the tree, gazing into her piercing eyes, girding himself for her response, a response that either way, would cut him whole as swiftly as a knife. Rostor drew his sword again, "You know full well, the question I would ask. Answer yea, and I shall live. Answer nay, and I shall die." He planted his sword in the road, jabbing it down, resting his head on its cross-shaped hilt, bowing his head against his golden hilt, that felt cold and piercing against his forehead. He was kneeling on the ground before her, his eyes shut tight, as he leaned against his sword. A darkness and sick fear fell over Cellindien's heart as his words reached her ears. She paled and stood as one frozen. For neither answer could she give. The elf kneeling before her bore every resemblance to he whom she had once loved... but he was not the same. But lost as she was, he was also... for he loved a child of Ages past. "I.... cannot answer...." A deep dread fell over Cellindien's heart and it seemed that a dark cloud had passed over the sky. She took a hesitant step towards him, her left vambrace falling forgotten to the ground. "No..." Her eyes widened and she realized too late what she had spoken, throwing herself forward in a desperate attempt to stay the blade from it's evil path. "Rostor!" Rostor grasped the blade, but felt her strength pulling him back. He relaxed his grip as a surge of power flowed through him from the cloak. He felt sick to his stomach, for the evil he had been ready to commit. The sword fell away from him. He forced himself to gaze into her eyes once more, ".........are you certain of your answer?" Adrenaline surged through Cellindien and she did not release her grip on him until she was certain that the blade was safely away from them both. Her left arm hung uselessly, but the right she used across his collarbones, holding him down with her weight. Her thoughts were reeling, memories and fears flooding her, but she forced them down and looked to his eyes instead. |
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| Ioristion | Oct 21 2015, 09:12 PM Post #47 |
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Chapter XLVI: A Wound Unseen by Blinding Love Cellindien's gaze was tired and pained, but determined. "We are near strangers now, Rostor Macil, for all that our faces may be so dear. But... I...... I cannot allow elven blood to be spilt here. Come..... we must.... we must return to the house." She could no longer stand his gaze and looked away, rolling to one side of him and taking up his sword. Rostor blinked, as he thought, but did not speak: "And it was all the grave fault................ of thy cruel father..........................." He slowly stood, "Near strangers....... but we need not be....................I am not wearing Yucalwe's cloak." "Do not speak of it," Cellindien cut in sharply. "I have forgiven my father and I will hear no more of it. And enough of cloaks... I care not who they belong to!" She turned away quickly and let out a hiss of pain, dropping his sword upon the path and holding her left arm close to her. "Ai! Go! Go! To the house with you!" Rostor moaned, "You do not understand..................... that spirit............ that Findekano appeared.................................Rirossel grabbed Yucalwe's cloak from my shoulders....... and -six- of them fell from the one, before our eyes...................................... I am not mad.................................... and the spirit, he.......................prophesied................One................for the Daughter...........of the.........Swordmaster..............................oh where is Yucalwe or Auruiron when I need him." "You are not mad!" Cellindien laughed bitterly. "So they all say. I have no need of another cloak, but you have need of tending that much is clear. Walk with me, if you will not go alone. I am weary, wounded and I will not stand out here any longer." Rostor shook his head, "...............................Would you gainsay the Valar?" And that word was seldom spoken among the Eldar. He slowly stood, revealing the second cloak on his arm, as the inexplicable rosy scent filled the air. The scent brought yet another memory crashing back, Rostor and his cloak, scented with roses, dancing about her room in the house of Melimwe. She had been wounded then as well, though differently. For a moment she felt as if she would fall towards him in body and spirit, but she rallied. "Stop... must you torture me so?" "No power of mine does this.........................why must this be torture.................... why......................." His head fell downcast. "Why do you call me and reject me at once?" She returned, pleading. "We are both lost........ come..... let us return to the house." And all of this time, Rostor did not notice her broken arm. He finally noticed it. He ran to her, wrapping her cloak around her broken arm, hoping that she would feel something powerful. Cellindien had already turned away, reaching to retrieve the fallen sword. He came upon her as she reached and the inevitable jolt as he took hold of the injured limb sent her to her knees with a cry of pain. Then the fabric slipped over the injury and there a strange easing... as if the pain had been drawn away like poison from a wound. Rostor reached for his sword and swiftly re-sheathed it, while he maintained his right-arm aloft for Cellindien. "Forgive me............. come, let us go home now..........." She ignored the offered arm, instead taking the cloak fully to herself and using it to cushion her arm against her chest. Then she lead the way towards the house without a word. |
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| Ioristion | Nov 1 2015, 08:12 AM Post #48 |
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Chapter XLVII: A Splintered Heart Rostor and Cellindien finally reached the house. Rirossel had found neither Ioristion nor Rostoriel. Alcano had remained in his room. Both aunt and nephew had heard someone at the door. They aided Cellindien to the chamber of rest as Rirossel fetched supplies. But Rostor felt amiss and gazed into Alcano's sorrowful eyes and could not bear it. He had ruined him, he could tell. Rostor felt divided on whether to stay with Cellindien or to leave the house. Alcano glared at him. Rostor bowed his head, arose, glancing sadly at Cellindien, mumbling, "I will return....." and left the room. Cellindien had not spoken since they had begun the walk back to the house. She nodded shortly without looking up as Rostor arose, carefully unwrapping the cloak from her injured arm. Rirossel sighed, "It all feels too strange......... thousands of years of sadness, seemingly washed away in a tiny span of days...... and yet we have neither mirth nor -joy- within our hearts............... my sister does not understand." She examined Cellindien's arm with care. "None of us do," Cellindien replied tersely. "It is broken here," she added, tone business-like as she indicated a position on her arm. "Possibly... here..." She pressed and closed her eyes. "Yes... this will not heal quickly. Have you a splint, Rirossel?" Rirossel nodded, "Yes, I do." She briefly left the room and fetched it, and swiftly returned. "I cannot believe I was so careless. Of course your fool of a brother always brought that out in me," Cellindien laughed, but it was forced. She accepted the splint and set to work, face pale, but her free hand practiced as she began to align and stablize the injured bones. Alcano nodded, "I.......I cannot believe that he said what he did to you............................" "......Cellindien...........he........he was my.......my......................................................" Alcano closed his eyes to hide his tears. |
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| Ioristion | Nov 1 2015, 08:12 AM Post #49 |
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Chapter XLVIII: The Quiet Sister "It as I said. You should learn to leave your life for yourself," Cellindien replied woodenly. "Clearly we do not know him as we thought we did.... I am sorry, Sapling." She braced herself, giving the arm one more prod before sighing and leaning back agaisnt the couch, closing her eyes. "Ai... t-that is the worst of it.... please, sister, if you could wrap it for me, I....." Rirossel nodded silently and obeyed. Rirossel sighed sadly as she gently and tenderly wrapped Cellindien's arm with precision, "He still loves you, my sister...............and... I have thought about it....................." Cellindien sat up quickly as Rirossel paused, her eyes wide. "No, Rirossel, do not say it, please... you do not agree with him?!" Rirossel closed her eyes, "I gazed into his eyes................and I saw wariness and weariness.......................................love and protectiveness..................................I do not believe that he was attempting to deceive us, my beloved sister........ he truly did wait for you on those shores for nearly half an Age.......................watching for arrivals..I doubt that Nimrodel's vanishing and Amroth's death at sea aided him..........................................................He had seen you only once, and before then, he had despaired of you, believing you were dead................. that the Terror in the Court of the Fount had -slain- you........................... only for him to be struck down within that moment! And then he never found you...........................until these recent days. And in all due respect, my sister, I understand him........... I understand his fear................. of losing you forever." "Stop it! That is enough!" Alcano yelled. |
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| Ioristion | Nov 1 2015, 08:12 AM Post #50 |
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Chapter XLVIX: For Her Brother Rirossel shook her head, "The Terror....... whose name should not be uttered here.............. his sword that nearly slew you, Finlos........... and the fell weapon of the Lord of the Black Land....................... and your rejection of my brother. You tell me what is worse.......... you tell me which blow was the most deadly........................... my brother has many flaws and I highly disagree with how he spoke to you, but please........................ I beg of you............. do not do something that you will regret forever..................... even unto the end of Time........................ these words are hard, but I speak them because I love you, my sister............. I truly do......... and you will hurt yourself as equally as you will ever hurt my brother......................................" Cellindien listened, or seemed to. As Rirossel continued her head fell forward on to her chest, and she closed her eyes, silent tears beginning to fall. By the time Alcano shouted she had pulled away, bringing her good hand up to cover her face. Rirossel sat by Cellindien's side. Alcano was seething in his silence, his head downcast. And Rirossel softly stroked her hair, "My sister..................... we must play him at his own game. Treat him as a brother, as he so wished........... until this is over......................abandon not the promise of thy betrothal if and when we finally do sail into the West.............................for my brother is right! We cannot find peace in this world................. it is not meant for us, not now.................." She struggled through her own tears, "And we must leave it behind us. But not while that fell evil will continue to haunt our dreams and wander unpunished............. a threat to us unto the end of Time................. we must have strength, my sister..... we must have courage..........Tell me. Do you want him to truly die, alone and bereft in some far deserted land, beneath strange stars, and for his fea to wander House-less forever.............?" Anger simmered in Cellindien's heart, but she could not bring herself to speak it. Her heart felt like it was torn in two... and then it was too much. "WE HAD PEACE!" She could not keep back the cry. "We had peace! We could have it again, I know... but he is not the same... and I wonder if we shall ever have it......... it is too far, too long.... and I... cannot! I cannot!" "Or will you be strong, with me, my sister................. for together, we can bring him alive and whole and renewed again..............................." Rirossel had ignored Cellindien's cry. "Yes, you can................. what you saw in his eyes, in Gondolin so long ago, was no accident, and if only he had told US! We would have helped you, if only we had known! But there is neither hope nor help for it now............ but we have a choice before us. Where will you find peace, Finlos of Gondolin, if ever my brother haunted your dreams, no matter where you ever shall dwell, even if within the West itself? For he will haunt you, as he has haunted me, when I thought him dead for an Age..........." Alcano closed his eyes in sadness, "Cellindien of Imladris............ I fear my aunt is right.................... but it is hard................. how can I forgive my ancestor for betraying his own nobility.........or did he? I do not know......................." Rirossel blinked, "Will you be strong, my sister, or has the Swordmaster not taught you hard enough?" Rirossel stood, and with a deep sigh, she stormed away before Cellindien could respond. Edited by Ioristion, Jun 13 2016, 01:59 PM.
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| Ioristion | Nov 1 2015, 08:13 AM Post #51 |
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Chapter XLVX: A Stronger Sapling ".....Where, indeed...." Cellindien echoed hollowly. She pulled her injured arm towards her and cradled it gently. She looked up as Rirossel left, and then slowly let her head fall down again. "...Perhaps he has not.... perhaps I should have never have turned away...." Alcano opened his eyes, shaking his head, "Rirossel is right in that regard............... I will admit that I, as your Sapling, can say that I am hurt and wounded by my 'noble ancestor,'............ but as Heir to the Amath Naru, to the Eldar......................... The Lord of the Halls of Waiting would judge me harshly if I abandoned him............... Rostor..................Macil of Eregion......................................... he would haunt my dreams, too.......................... oh......." "...It is not your duty to tend to him, Sapling..." Cellindien replied softly. "It is mine..... to protect...... Ioristion and those.... dear to him...... and I must fulfill that duty, if nothing else...." Alcano suddenly stood, feeling compelled, for he had overheard Yucalwe's earlier words. One of the cloaks sat gleaming behind the place where Cellindien was sitting. Alcano reached over for it, grabbing it, and swathed himself in it. The words echoed in his mind, "the Heir of the Amath Naru." He knelt before Cellindien, "................but it is my duty............. Finlos.......................... and if you will not do it for yourself, then -I- will do it for you.........................." He slowly arose, whipping his cloak around himself, swathed in red and black: "I, Alcano, shall be Rostor, my noble ancestor, as he was meant to be. He shall live within me, and I shall be him. The descendant shall surpass his ancestor. And maybe, one day more........... he will learn from me......................" Cellindien smiled sadly, stepping forward to cup Alcano's cheek with her uninjured hand. "Sapling... you have already surpassed him." She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek before turning away. Alcano bowed with gratitude and then arose....., "Rirossel is still correct.............. it is his fear of losing you that has hurt us. Forcing him -to- lose you shall do little good..............................................................." Edited by Ioristion, Nov 1 2015, 08:13 AM.
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| Ioristion | Nov 1 2015, 08:14 AM Post #52 |
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Chapter XLVXI: Resolve She looked back at him, and there was a dark sorrow in her eyes. "It is done, Alcano. We have lost each other... for.....you know as well as I...... our spirits love but once.... and to bind to another cannot be done. Macil loves another.... and so do I." Alcano gazed at her quizzically, "And who is this other, who Macil loves? And who is it whom you now love?" "The answers are one and the same," she replied. "A memory..... that will never live again." Alcano swept beside her, ".......................................I feel the same feeling, but.................... I do not wish to believe it......................... his fea remains this day as it remained in Gondolin................... the same spirit resides within him....................." "Alcano..." This time there was a warning in Cellindien's voice. "You mean well.... but this is one certainty that I pray you will never understand. There is no longer a choice, and you must learn to accept that, as I do now." She held out her good arm to prevent him from following her and left the room. Alcano stood silently in the room, desperation welling in his heart. He needed air. He rose through the halls and stairways, standing on the balcony on the roof, as mountain winds blew and billowed his vast cloak, as it flickered in the sunlight, as he outspread his arms: "I will find you, Rostor..........and bring you back again. I promise." He grimaced, feeling the artifact within a pouch of his robes. He sighted Rostor from afar, meditating by the river. And so he began his march. But then he paused. For out of the corner of his eye, a dove came, bearing a message within its talons. He knew the bird well, for it belonged to his grandfather. He opened the scrawled letters: "......beset by Wargs...... and...........drums............." It was written in haste. Alcano ran, in search of any he could find. Edited by Ioristion, Nov 1 2015, 08:23 AM.
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| Ioristion | Nov 1 2015, 08:23 AM Post #53 |
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Chapter XLVXII: A Twilight, Sunlit Dream Yucalwe finally found Auruiron and Melimwe. Auruiron was sitting on a hillside beside him. Auruiron's eyes were glistening with mixed emotions. This Rostor believes that he can escapeth with harming my son's mind for thousands of years..... and yet, it is a relief that he is alive.... my son has not yet regained his madness.... oh where is Makalaure when I need him? He is quite safe in the refuge. We know that unto the West we shall return. What must I fear? For Yucalwe is now my brother, the rivalry is ended.... what does our foe think that he can do unto us? Nothing? And yet now Rostor... Macil has returned. What shall become of my daughter? Auruiron was resting in Melimwe's arms. Yucalwe smiled, "Hail, brother..... I have tidings....." Auruiron nodded, "I am aware of Rostor's return....." Then Yucalwe told him of the artifact, the cloaks, and he told Auruiron of the rift that had grown between Rostor and Cellindien. Now, Auruiron's eyes did stream with deeper tears. For Rostor was the Way through which Cellindien would have truly become his daughter, beyond adoption. For Rostor's sister was Ioristion's wife. These bonds would have unified them completely. Auruiron girded himself, near to vowing that he would not forsake Cellindien. But the discord made his stomach churn. Melimwe grasped him, weeping as well. Even Yucalwe shed a tear. Melimwe suddenly whispered, "Let us stand...." There was a great gust of wind as Melimwe's cloak billowed in the breeze. And Auruiron finally embraced him as a brother. And Yucalwe deeply embraced them both. Yucalwe turned to see Alcano approaching, running across the fields. Alcano handed the message to Auruiron, who nearly crushed it in his fist. They all began running in the direction of the house. Melimwe veered to the west, in search of the stables. Yucalwe veered toward the storehouses. And Auruiron maintained his pace, girding his heart. The sun was shining. It all felt as if a twilight dream. And Alcano, nearing the house with his grandfather, remembered that Cellindien had left the room. He decided to check the nearer quarters first. Edited by Ioristion, Nov 1 2015, 08:43 AM.
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| Ioristion | Nov 1 2015, 08:42 AM Post #54 |
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Chapter XLVXIII: Daughter of Discord Rostoriel walked coldly along the river, in cold gusts of wind, as her stern heart pounded coldly within her. Ioristion had returned to the house, spurned. Rostoriel felt neither the -joy- nor the hope nor the love. Her brother had betrayed them, worse than Finlos. He had lived, and ne'r returned, until this wounding moment. She was on the verge of wishing that he had died and found peace in the West, wishing that the visions in the artifact were true. She whisked her cloak around herself, her hair and excessive folds flapping violently in the wind. She longed to breath. She longed for warmer air. But only cold air filled her lungs. She folded her arms, clutching the folds of her cloak. Her hands felt sweaty. And the sun was now hidden behind the clouds. Thousands of years of pain.... thousands of years of shadow... thousands of years of woe....HOW DARE HE! HOW DARE SHE! HOW DARE THEY! A peaceful resolution would have felt so much better! No! They had to sunder their love! Thousands of years, marked by the shadow of Finlos' death! HOW DARE SHE! Thousands of years, marked by my brother's death! HOW DARE HE! And my husband, my poor, daft, naive! Has he no thought for me? His loyal wife? Mortal wives would have left him AGES ago! He shall not seduce me..... the Vala's Tears shall not seduce me....... nay..... I refuse his cloak, a prison rather than a shelter..... The winds billowed her cloak as she felt free. She banished husband, relatives, Finlos, Rostor, all of them, from her mind. She gazed at her reflection in the river, I look so lovely... Edited by Ioristion, Nov 18 2015, 09:01 PM.
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| Ioristion | Nov 18 2015, 09:01 PM Post #55 |
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Chapter XLVXIV: Restless Fatigue Cellindien tread the halls wearily, heart, arm and soul aching with pains that could no longer be ignored. When she reached her chambers she passed into them silently, neglecting even to shut the door before crossing to her bed and falling upon it. Auruiron shouted to Alcano, "She is likely within her chambers. Listen, my dear nephew........ it will take some hours for wise preparations to be made. It would not bode well for us to face Orcs and Wargs and worse foes, with neither food nor drink nor shelter, nor defenses........." Alcano laughed, "After all of these Ages, you are finally accepting what Melimwe has told you countless times?" Auruiron glared at him. Alcano ran toward Cellindien's chambers. He tip-toed within the room and sat silently against the wall, unsure of what to do. Cellindien was sprawled out on the bed, her injured arm cradled protectively against her chest. Her eyes were closed, and she slept fitfully, the filthy training armor leaving spots of mud and blood upon the fine sheets. Alcano enclosed his arms within his cloak, deeply breathing, in and out, deeply and consciously, attempting to control himself. The darkened thoughts of fear awoke deep within Alcano, for his uncles and for his friends, and comrades, burning within the marrow of his fea. He focused his attention on his breathing, half-closing his eyes, and ever-breathing, as he slowly calmed himself in his meditation. On the bed Cellindien shifted, groaning as the pain in her arm roused her. The red cloak caught her eye and she started up suddenly, hissing with pain and sinking back to the sheets as she recognized the wearer. "Ah.... S-Sapling... have I left my door open or did you wind your way in like a wayward leaf?" Alcano tried to smile, "Cellindien........ you are muddy and bloody.....and wounded........ shall we try to remove your armor? It must make the pain worse........." Armor...?" She looked down at herself, then at the soiled bedding. "Ai.... the damage has already been done... what have I been thinking. Please, Alcano, if you would..." She rose stiffly and stood leaning against the bed's post and fumbling with the armor's leather straps with her good hand. Alcano nodded, whipped back his cloak, and began assisting her. The armor was removed quickly enough and Cellindien sighed with relief as it was laid aside. "Thank you, Sapling." She gave him a small smile and turned to the task of drawing the muddy sheets from the bed. Alcano assisted her. He continued to focus on the task at-hand, desperately shoving his fears aside. When everything had been cleared away, Cellindien finally slowed, standing silently at the foot of the bed. Alcano mustered a small smile, "You should try to rest now......" She stirred, looking at him. "What, and tarnish the mattress as well?" She turned to look at him and wavered on her feet. "I am so sorry, Alcano..." "I do not even know what it is that I apologize for... but this.... this is my fault, somehow....... and I truly must step away, somehow. I will withdraw to the House for some time, perhaps, until my arm has healed..." Alcano smiled again, "It is not your fault...... you need not withdraw.....Do not worry yourself about it. Besides, you left this downstairs." He had found it on his way to her chambers. The cloak that she had unwrapped from her injured arm now gleamed as Alcano held it aloft. "It can replace the sheets for now." He concealed the facts of their short-lived rest. She winced at the sight of it. "No, no...." But she swayed and clumsily caught herself on the frame of the bed. "...The mattress or the floor then... very well..." She nodded towards the bed. "Lay it out for me?" Alcano obeyed, spreading it gently. Cellindien watched, smiling despite herself at the care he took. When it was ready she removed her shoes and laid down carefully, letting out a sigh as her face rested against the soft fabric. "Come then, Sapling... unless you would prefer to rest on the floor. There is room for two." Alcano smiled and nodded, as he rested himself beside her, as he pressed his own face against the fabric, outspreading his own cloak as a blanket. He continued to banish his fear, focusing only on the present moment. And Cellindien smiled again, allowing herself to relax fully, listening to the quiet, regular sound of the younger elf breathing. In... and out... in... out.... without realizing it she fell into the same rhythm, her eyes drifting closed and her mind fading away to sleep. And Alcano drifted away to the realm of dreams, drifting in the folds of his quiet rhythm of breath. |
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| Ioristion | Nov 18 2015, 09:14 PM Post #56 |
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Chapter XLVXV: The Golden Prince and the Crimson Son Rostor had wandered out of the house. The wind had billowed his unkept hair that swirled in the solemn breeze as fiery leaves fell from the worn boughs of the gnarled trees nigh the river in the Vale. He had folded his cloak on his arm as he wandered aimlessly in his solemnity. He had loved a phantom, a figment of his mind, an image. He had loved her, that image who ever returned within his dreams, bathing his lips with her kisses, her warm breath filling his lungs as he dreamed. He sighted a shining golden light in the distance. He wondered if it was his brother. But then he saw who it really was, and sorrow pressed him forward. He had dried the silent tears from his cheeks. He climbed upon a stone plateau, jutting out of a nearby hillside above the river as it turned. The wind whipped his cloak in a frenzy. He sat down amidst his billowing folds, crossing his legs, as he closed his eyes and breathed. He waited until he felt the presence stand beside him. Rostor stood, gazing toward the West. He heard the voice, "My son was rendered mad........ for an Age.......... on thy account............" Rostor moved to speak, but remained silenced. "My daughter is rendered mad....... on thy account..............And I am rendered mad, on my account............." "You do not blame me?" "I blame the Enemy. I blame myself for my own madness. It runs in my blood. Does this surprise you?" Rostor did not know how to respond. "I, too, loved a brother to the point of madness. But I do not blame him. I did for Ages. Oh yes, he had abandoned -me- on the shores of the sea, it was not fate that moved him! In my madness, I sacrificed my kith and kin within the West, I surrendered the golden fields of Eldamar and the Tree-lit slopes of Taniquetil and the lofty Citadel of Tirion....... I surrendered Grace, love, compassion........ I embraced a coldness in my heart, an unending sorrow...... and do you know why, Son of Gondolin? Can you know why, Son of Eregion?" "...............................................because you loved him." "Love cast down my son and daughter into madness.................. and you must remain strong, as their brother...........................my son.................................................................." The words did not come easily. Rostor suddenly turned, embracing Auruiron. Slowly, Auruiron's arms caressed Rostor, golden folds lapping around them both, shimmering, as if the shores of the sea, as the rays of the sun blasted toward them, unobstructed, from the West. In time, they returned to the house once more. Rostor's face was downcast. He would see Eregion again. Auruiron and Rostor stared into Cellindien's room. Auruiron whispered, "It will take another day to gather everything.... alas for our brethren. For now, let us let them sleep for what remains of the day and throughout this night. If what I have heard is true..... the cloaks might heal her arm. Come........" Rostor gazed at her sadly, but smiled, nodding. He wanted to serve her, and thereby regain her love. In service to her, he gently closed the door, quietly, without stirring a fea, and parted down the stairs with Auruiron. They parted to their guest-chambers to rest alone. Edited by Ioristion, Nov 18 2015, 11:26 PM.
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| Ioristion | Nov 18 2015, 11:02 PM Post #57 |
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Chapter XLVXVI: Children of Flame and Ancient Lore Rirossel had meditated in her room, dreaming as she had ever dreamed. She had left her room, peering-in to that of Cellindien, finding her asleep with Alcano. Rirossel smiled, My brother will not be abandoned.... no matter what she might think about it........... When she came to Ioristion's chamber, he heard a soft sobbing within. Ioristion sat on his bed with his head in his hands, softly weeping. Softly, Rirossel entered. And Ioristion spoke of Rostoriel. Rirossel was still wearing her long cloak of silver, lined with crimson silk. She spoke softly, "Do not fear for her.... for later, I shall speak with her........for now, my beloved brother, come with me........." Ioristion nodded. They entered Rirossel's chamber. Ioristion climbed alongside her in the bed, as he billowed his golden cloak across and over them both, as she did the same with hers. And they deeply kissed each other on each others' cheeks, chastely and yet deeply in their affection. They feel asleep in each others' arms, attuned to the rhythm of their breathing. Edited by Ioristion, Nov 18 2015, 11:18 PM.
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| Ioristion | Nov 20 2015, 08:37 PM Post #58 |
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Chapter XLVXVII: The Final Preparations Melimwe had recruited the steeds and Yucalwe had commissioned the supplies to be brought nigh the house. The stable-masters and suppliers were asking questions, but Melimwe contended that it was a matter of the highest secrecy, and none should ask further of it. Melimwe was ever clever. He deterred them from asking Master Elrond at the same time he implied Master Elrond's exhortations for secrecy, while remaining honest. The arrival of the horses and supplies was arranged to occur at least several hours after dawn on the following morning. When it became evident that Rostoriel had not yet returned to the house, Yucalwe left in search of her. Melimwe found Auruiron and Rostor, and rested with them. They slept alongside each other in the Chamber of Rest. But Yucalwe beheld Rostoriel, dancing in the moonlight. Her cloak was billowing and flapping around her as she danced. She had embraced her cold, hard-heartedness, in her longing for freedom. Suddenly, her danced ceased. "I know you are near at hand, Yucalwe........." "A Son of Stars must walk beneath them......." "Did my daft husband send you?" "I came of my own accord..... we depart on the morrow." "Good, and good riddance!" "Such behavior does not befit-" "It befits me.........and you will not trick me into plunging gently into thy folds..... I would sooner choose the river." Yucalwe approached her, "Brave words, Lady of Noldorion." "STOP IT!" "But I shall approach, Lady of Noldorion, for I, too, wish to stand on this plateau, this small jetting of stone, to behold the stars......" "You appear out of nowhere, and dare to assert thy primacy as -my- father! You adopted Rostor with his consent...... but you did not adopt me." Yucalwe stood beside her nonetheless, "Even still, the time has come for rest........" "I am not returning to that house!" "I did not mean within thy house......... we have a long journey ahead of us." "I am -not- going......." "We need another healer, and so you shall go......." Rostoriel deeply sighed, defeated, for it was forbidden for elven healers to refuse a call for aid. Then, she realized how tired she was. Her angst had fatigued her. When Yucalwe raised a vast fold of his cloak around her shoulders, she did not complain. Nor did she speak. She remained silent as they left the plateau. They slept alongside each other on the hillside. They beheld the stars before they closed their eyes. Edited by Ioristion, Nov 24 2015, 11:20 PM.
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| Ioristion | Nov 24 2015, 11:10 PM Post #59 |
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Chapter XLVXVIII: Silky Dreams In one of his dreams, Alcano beheld a dark, cavernous space. Shafts of light poured through pores in the ceiling. Iredescent light poured throughout the caverns, reflected off the beauty of the now-revealed crystals. Alcano had wandered through the cavern, to find a vast cape of black silk rise to meet an outer-cloak of glistening, dark hair, which rose to the crown of a mysterious being. His hair was longer than that of Luthien of legend. "Alcano," the being whispered. Alcano had gazed in awe as the being turned to face him, his arms outspread, his cape glowing iredescently in the sunlight. The dream felt real. The being spoke, "I am called Macilon. Come........" Alcano had heard that name before. Caution warned against the motion. Compelled, regardless, he obeyed. The being before him was beautiful. Alcano passed into his embrace and then beneath his folds, pressing his face into red silk, as Macilon enclosed the cape around him. Chaos was suddenly everywhere. Billowing flames and the clash of swords. Alcano saw Rostor before him. He was fighting him. Then he felt himself trip, and he felt himself plunge backward. The world flew higher and higher. He saw Rostor's face dimly, above his head. Then all went black. Then he saw the West. He saw the basin of his dreams, the dreams in which Rostor had attempted to commune across the Sea with the aid of some Maia. He found himself concealed within the folds of the cloak once more. He felt warm breath nigh his neck. He heard Macilon whisper, "It was I........I who sent the visions, at the Spirit's behest........you saw Rostor, for we knew of his return to come..........truly, we did not lie......" Alcano nodded, "And who are you? Yucalwe's hidden brother?" Macilon laughed grimly, "Our taste in capes was..... naught but a coincidence. Or was it? For Vaire's strands hath bound our dooms as one...........woven together, so beautifully..........I died a penitent death, and the West spared me...........for centuries did I watch over my brother, poor Rostor........and when he took my name and gave himself unto my errs, I wept........................and now he is losing his love...........and I am trapped, across the Sea.............you must help us......" Alcano smiled, "I shall..............." And Alcano deeply kissed into Macilon's right-cheek. The sensation felt real. His skin felt real. And his eyes glistened. Macilon swiftly returned the gesture. He smirked and laughed. Alcano returned it again. Their embrace felt real and palpable. And Alcano had buried his face in Macilon's hair. After what had seemed an eternity, Macilon whispered, "Our time together is nearly at an end, for now.......know that my cape surrounds you, always........ we shall meet again, Son of Amath Naru.........." After one final cheek-kiss and deep embrace, they parted. Alcano stepped backward. Macilon began to levitate. His vast cape draped to the cavern-floor from his outspread arms. He uttered, "Tell the Prince of Gold.... to rest with you........ as you both behold the sunset..... on Ost-en-Edhil...................." "I promise!" Alcano shouted. And Macilon had slowly become enveloped in light, sparking and shimmering brighter, and brighter, until the light was blinding. Then all became suddenly and terribly dark. The howling was chilling to the bone. Alcano slowly opened his eyes. He felt the warmth of the folds surrounding him. The presence of the walls and ceiling relieved him. He turned over. Then, he remembered. Edited by Ioristion, Nov 24 2015, 11:20 PM.
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| Ioristion | Nov 24 2015, 11:12 PM Post #60 |
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Chapter XLVXVIX: Descendants of the By-Gone Past Cellindien was watching him, her face much more peaceful than it had been when they had laid down to rest. Her sleep had been deep, but short. "Good morning, Sapling." Alcano smiled, "And to you, Cellindien." Then, he remembered further, his smile naturally decreasing, slowly. "Something troubles you... tell me." She gave him a gentle, but shrewd look, sitting up. Alcano's smile widened slightly, "You do read me as if a book, do you not? But I believe that something troubles you......" She laughed. "There is always something. With years come troubles. You, sapling, have no excuse." She stretched, unthinking, and winced as the injured arm was strained. Strange, though... it did not hurt as it should have. She frowned and held it close to her side, carefully moving her fingers experimentaly. "How odd... the wonders of this house..." she muttered. Already she could tell that the bones, though still weak, were knitting together. Alcano smiled, "Your....arm is healing?" "It seems so." She raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't seem surprised. I suppose I should not be..." Alcano smirked, "We should ever remain surprised.........lest the miraculous fade away from us......." Cellindien rolled her eyes and continued to test her arm, gingerly turning it and flexing the muscles. Alcano yawned and stood, wrapping his cloak around himself. "Cellindien..... there is something that I must tell you.....................but first...................." Alcano suddenly swished into the middle of the room, spinning faster and faster, as his cloak glimmered in the sunlight. The domes arose as they had in Gondolin, when Rostor had danced before her. Immediately a change came over Cellindien and she turned away, her eyes hardening. "Alcano...." Black intermingled with silvery streams of light, with bursts of rosy-red. His fiery hair billowed as he spun. Suddenly, he ceased to spin. He outspread his cloak with his arms, "Look at me......." She did not, instead getting up from the bed and beginning to bundle up the bedding. "Make yourself useful and hang up that cloak." "Cellindien....... there is no reason to do so, as you shall soon learn........ now please. Trust me. Look at me......" She froze. "What now...?" She turned towards him warily. Streaks and creases of golden sunlight flowed through the ruby-red surface of the glistening lining that fell to the floor in a multiplicity of folds. Alcano began, "Hearken to me.... carefully.... for I am not my ancestor........ the Art from whence you turned your head is not his, but mine......... I sought not to romance, or allure, but to comfort.........., behold the streaks of sunlight........ my father's blood-line......... and the glistening of rubies........that of my mother.........," he gulped, but continued in a semblance of confidence: "We are thy family too........ but in these folds, behold....... sunlight reflected, off the berries of holly trees.............................." He wondered if she caught what the reference signified. Cellindien sighed and glared at him. "Speak plainly, Alcano. Do you intend to hang my sheets to dry on holly trees or...." She trailed off. "No." Alcano lowered his arms, "Yes....... it will not be long before we set-out again.... likely within the next hour..........." "No," she repeated. "I refuse. We have yet to solve the mysteries of the last artifact. We can't afford to go chasing after more!" Alcano laughed, "But that is precisely what we are going to do! We will 'solve the mysteries of the last artifact.' But we received a dire note from Fareon. Cellindien........ all those Elves you saw at Minas Noldorion..... they are in Eregion, and they are under attack by wargs and other fell evils......." Alcano's face fell, "Yes...... we no longer have a choice........." Edited by Ioristion, Jun 13 2016, 02:00 PM.
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12:43 AM Jul 11