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18. Wind-Singers Volume III.II: The Final March; In the aftermaths of The Hunt and the Artifact: Auruiron, Cellindien, and Inheroth embark with their Host toward the East.
Topic Started: Apr 6 2016, 02:01 PM (3,116 Views)
Ioristion

Chapter XL: Sorceress of the Golden Wood

And Celebressel had briefly seized it. She found herself in Caras Galadhon. She found herself within the House of Celeborn. She found herself sitting on Lady Galadriel's throne, and the Lord and Lady themselves, prostrated on the floor before her, their white and silver garb stretching behind them. And wind gushed through the hall as Celebressel arose, outstretching her arms, an inner light shining greatly from within her. And all the court of the Golden Wood fell on their knees before her.

And then, all of it, became drowned in shadow. She found herself in a darkened cave. "Alcano!" She called. "Alcano!" Alcano was bleeding to death on the cavern floor before her. Her robes became stained with his blood. She screamed, and no one answered. She broke-down sobbing in her terror.

And Macilon shrouded her within his cloak, "You have seen thine greatest desire. And thine greatest terror. Daughter of Lorien, heed my words. No Queen shall ye be, but greater. And ye may save thine husband. Fall to thine desire or thine fear, and thine desire and fear shalt consume thee, and ye shalt perish into shadow."

The vision ended abruptly. Celebressel gazed in horror at the orb on the floor before her.

And Alcano, who had not touched it, covered it over completely, restored it to its sack, and put it away across the tent. And Lerinon declared that no one should know about it.

Malfinseron ran over to Alcano and embraced him, shocking Alcano, and Malfinseron deeply kissed Alcano's cheeks.

Alcano tried to push him away, "Are you mad?"

Malfinseron nodded, "I believe that I am. For I surrender all my hatred......"

Alcano stared at the sack with the artifact, and thought for a moment, He......... well........ let me take advantage of this moment of weakness in him! Alcano kissed him in return, and they deeply embraced, and Alcano did not realize that fear, not love, motivated the reconciliation of Malfinseron.

But Lerinon stammered, "That Artifact must be cursed. It took Aegnil. It threatened to take the lot of us. Alcano, Inheroth, you are most fortunate to not have touched it. Let no one touch that cursed orb. Did Macil not warn us, days after Aegnil's death, that the appearance of Macilon should strike an ill omen, and that his apparition should be shunned? He is likely Guldrambor in disguise.......... the artifact was toying with our minds, our imaginations, this entire time! Let it rot in the sack in which it sits." Lerinon closed his eyes aghast. For the vision of Thranduil, who to Lerinon, embodied the power of his lost throne, embodied both his deepest desire and his deepest fear. Lerinon despised the Feanorians who murdered his father, but he did not fear them, for he was raised among several of them. And he had made peace with Macalaure, ending his childhood terror forever. But now he deeply admired and feared the Elven-King who had imprisoned him, who might now have threatened him with death. Lerinon's memory of the dance in the dream now made him feel sick to his stomach.

Alcano stammered, "Should we not destroy it?"

Lerinon shook his head, "I know not how to. But let us bear it as far as we may, until we find a means......let us speak of it no further. And let us leave this tent at once, and post a guard, to prevent anyone from entering it. Auruiron will understand......"

They marched out of the war-tent as quickly as they could, and closed the flaps behind them. The four runners returned to their glade, where they cowered in each others' arms, quivering in terror.
Edited by Ioristion, Jul 25 2016, 03:58 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XLI: Striding through the Moonlight Glade

Malfinseron stormed through the silent, solemn glade, his face dipped in moonlight, his grey eyes gleaming pale-blue like sapphires in the dark gloom beneath the stars. His azure silky cloak glimmered as if bejeweled with stars as he stormed toward the storm of the East that rose above the horizon, veiled by the pale-blue moonlit golden leaves of the pale silver trunks of the towering mallorn trees. He brushed his pale silvered hair behind him. He processed in all his sparkling beauty. Alcano trailed behind him.

Malfinseron turned, "So you are sneaking away as well?"

Alcano sighed, "It is most unwise to leave sleeping wives behind."

Malfinseron turned away again, "It was even more unwise to probe that artifact......."

Moonlight streamed where it shined through the trees, down on Alcano's dark-reddish features, of his silken cloak and his rusty hair that flowed behind him.

Malfinseron turned around toward Alcano again, outspreading his bright-silver silken lining that shined palely in the moonlight, bowing before him, "How might I serve you, my fiery Prince?"

Alcano had never expected those words out of Malfinseron's mouth, not since their conflict on the docks of Mithlond. Alcano smirked, smiling, as he made the same gesture with his own crimson cape, bowing, "How might I serve you, my Lord of the Sundering Seas?"

A great wind gushed through their outstretched capes. Their capes billowed brightly in the wind. Their capes whipped and curled behind them. They rushed toward each other, one with, and the other against, the wind. They held each other closely, burying their faces in each others' long, silky hair.

"I recant my ban," Malfinseron whispered.

"Then let us be, as we once were, long ago," Alcano whispered.

The wind whispered through the leaves in the canopy far above their heads.

"Yes," Malfinseron whispered. He deeply kissed Alcano, burying his lips in his cheek, and Alcano did likewise.

"I feel.... free...." Malfinseron whispered. He realized how deeply he loved Findistedis. He felt his new bond with her tugging at his heart-strings. He loved Alcano now, as a brother, because the nightmare told him to. He felt tempted to reveal his nightmare to Alcano.

"Me too," Alcano nodded, realizing how much he loved Celebressel. He was worried about her now. She did not seem herself after she had touched the artifact. He also realized how much he had wanted to bond with Malfinseron as a brother all his life, the only ellon he knew that was his age. He realized how deeply hurt he was by Malfinseron's betrayal. He realized how that betrayal had led to he, Alcano, exalting his "noble ancestor," as a sole means of adding purpose to his own life.
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Ioristion

Chapter XLII: A Storm-Filled Dance of Roses

They withdrew from their embrace, and Malfinseron smiled, "Come.... uphold the rear-hem of my cape......"

Alcano smirked, "What is this?"

Malfinseron laughed, "You do enjoy dancing, do you not?"

Alcano laughed, "What is this? The stern, diplomatic Malfinseron, has turned to seeking mirth and pleasure?"

"I want you to outspread it behind me."

Alcano obeyed. Moonlight draped down azure folds, sparkling as if laden with stars.

"Now shake it... up and down...."

Alcano obeyed. The cloak flapped and curved and domed as it shook.

Malfinseron smiled, "What do you see?"

Alcano gazed at him warily, "I see......"

"A deep blue sea, the stars reflecting on the thrashing of the waves?"

Alcano smirked, "I do. Now do the same for me."

They faced the opposite direction, toward the west, and Malfinseron grasped the hem of Alcano's folds, and did the same.

Alcano smiled, "What do you see?"

Malfinseron smirked, "I see..... waves of vast rose petals, rising and falling."

Alcano nodded, Oh Powers be praised! He did not see tides of blood in a Kinslaying.

They turned to face each other, resuming their embrace. Celebressel casually strolled over to them both, "And what do you two think you are doing?"

Malfinseron raised an eyebrow, "Reconciling?"

"Oh sure you are," Findistedis laughed from behind. "We saw everything.... fine then, good brothers. If you want to dance, then let us dance!"

Celebressel began to twirl and spin, her white and silver capes rising around her, draped in moonlight, her silver hair flying as she spun. Findistedis did the same. Malfinseron and Alcano did not dance. They were staring at them with throbbing hearts.

All dancing came to a sudden halt. Three Eldar robed and cloaked in gold processed past them, their head beckoning them to follow. Pale golden silk draped on lush grass and golden leaves, all draped in moonlight. Long was their train that rustled the leaves behind them. The four processed slowly behind the three, and the two sisters, Rostoriel and Rirossel, and Cullasson and Cullastor, awaited them. They had gathered on the banks of the river Anduin. The golden-clad Eldar raised their arms toward the firmament. The river gleamed and sparkled with the reflections of stars as its currents flowed south. Across the river, the barren plains before the Mirkeaves were shrouded in shadow, the dark clouds of the Necromancer towering high above them. The clouds abruptly ended where the eastern shores did.

Auruiron turned, "I thought we would have found you there. You are oft to rest in that glade."

Malfinseron moved to speak, but Auruiron silenced him. Auruiron claimed: "I am not certain as to whether or not to trust you, Heir of House Gowestor. For your grandfather was cruel to me, as was your father, and apparently you as well, until recently. I had not the authority to halt the marriages that took place. But be warned. Bar our passage West, and..."

Malfinseron laughed, "You await a conflict that will not come. For I have forsaken my ban upon you."

"Oh really?" Auruiron seemed shocked, "And pray tell, what aided your arrival at such a decision?"

Malfinseron moved to speak, but Findistedis elbowed him. Alcano spoke instead, "Grandfather.... know that he arrived to it on his own accord. We have made peace......... and it was a long time coming.......... look around you, grandfather. Who would not make peace in such a gentle wood? Aegnil's death was tragic........ but while we felt the sorrow of his passing, sorrow has slowly fled our hearts across these months...."

Celebressel smiled, "Grandfather, if I may..... It is not difficult for we ladies to make such boys make peace with one another."

Auruiron smiled, "You are bold...... you remind me of Faeleth in this way, my late-wife....."

Celebressel closed her eyes, "And what befell her, pray tell?"

Auruiron spoke sadly, "She was felled by Yrch in Eregion during its Fall an Age ago. I tried to save her, but came too late. She was strong. I have little doubt in my mind that she went down fighting. She manipulated me away from sworn words, from stubbornness, and for a brief yet splendid time, I found some form of peace with her. But the Enemy broke that peace, stealing her away to the barren soil, and I returned to the shadows that haunted me. They haunt me still..... in part. I am gravely sorry that you could not meet Faeleth. You would have loved her.... and she would have loved you......"

Malfinseron stammered, "You never told us this in Mithlond."

Auruiron returned the jab, "You never came my grandson nor I a chance to."

Melimwe raised his hand, "Peace....... it will take some time to move beyond this, but move beyond it we must. Ever was I at odds with thy grandfather, Malfinseron."

Malfinseron smirked, "So you are the 'great' Melimwe. Macalaure's Ambassador, or one of them. The one who parried my grandfather Lamaen's maneuvers."

Melimwe bowed, "I am. And the land o'er which we parried is long since vanquished beneath the waves of the sea. Let our discord lie there unto the end of days....."

Malfinseron stared at him angrily for several hard moments, but then relented, nodding, and bowing before Melimwe.

Cullasson smiled, "And I am now your uncle. I once served my lords Yucalwe and Maitimo Nelyafinwe in Himring of old."

Cullastor smirked, "And I his son, born far later."

Malfinseron bowed to them both. Alcano smiled at Cullastor, for they were of a similar age. But Cullastor had not the time to develop a long friendship or kindred spirit with Alcano, for Cullasson kept his son far afield, to avoid falling prone to the luxurious life of Auruiron's prime household.

Rirossel smiled, "And I am thine aunt."

"You are most beautiful," Malfinseron bowed. "You remind me of my mother."

Rostoriel laughed, "We long indeed feared that you would never wed anyone, Alcano. The Powers have blessed you... all of you.... even in the eve of our time in this world."

Ioristion turned toward Malfinseron, "And now, behold. For I am your father. Father to all four of you. Be patient with me, and especially you, my son, Alcano, for there is much to speak of."

By the time they had talked each others' heads off, Malfinseron, Celebressel, and Findistedis, all knew the full story of Auruiron and his lineages, all their adventures and their sorrows, their lingerings and their wanderings. Yucalwe was not present, for he was hunting with Limdor, Circhon, and Palanelon, as he did of old, and Macil, Saelbainor, Amarthandor, Auravon, and Sainion, and Arancir, were with them. Cellindien remained on watch over Lerinon with Inheroth.

Then Malfinseron confessed the vision he had beheld from touching the artifact, and they were all soon weeping because of it, weeping at the fell specter Macilon had become, weeping at the manner of the death of Lamaen, and, indeed, for all the trauma of the Third Kinslaying. Alcano held Malfinseron tightly, tears streaming down his cheeks like stars in the moonlight. He held him until the crying ceased. Findistedis did not elbow her husband this time. And Auruiron concurred with the ban on touching the artifact. The ban, until now, had remained informal: not spoken and yet understood. Now it was law.

Ioristion smiled faintly when their discourse had ended, drying his tear-strewn cheeks with his palm, "Rest well, now. I lend unto you my cloak. Rest together beneath its pale golden folds, shining in the moonlight. Be wary, for it may reveal unto you times of ages long since past. But peace shall soon come upon you all."

And Ioristion unclasped his cloak and gave it to Celebressel, who processed back to the glade with it streaming behind her, while the others upheld it above the golden leaves, the molten gold folds glistening brightly in the moonlight. They returned to their resting place and passed beneath deep molten golden folds, and fell asleep. And they all caught glimpses of Caras Galadhon and the Mirror of Galadriel, glimpses of the visions that the sisters had beheld. They caught glimpses of Malfinseron's sorrow at the parting with his parents. They caught glimpses of Alcano resting astride a stream. And they caught glimpses of the noble Sindarin House of which Celebressel and Findistedis were part, glimpses of their magnificent manse sitting upon their high flet in the City, and glimpses of the Lord and Lady themselves, in public processions on the high wooden roads above the tall hill that was Caras Galadhon. Their visions were fleeting and brief, much unlike the flamboyant visions of the Artifact. They all snuggled close together, cuddling, kissing each other on the cheeks, before falling asleep peacefully, one by one, into a realm of peaceful dreams, beneath the moonlight.

Melimwe followed Auruiron back to his tent. They had no visions that night when they fell asleep, wrapped in their cloaks together. Rirossel and her family returned to their tent and rested. Ioristion rested with Rostoriel within her fiery-toned cloak.

Lerinon was snuggling with Inheroth beneath his golden cloak, struggling to fall asleep in terror of his potential dreams, holding-onto his soulmate tightly. Cellindien was resting nearby, with Macil beside her, and Macil did not bring his black and red cloak forth from his pack. For it had become a fell reminder of the tragic manner of the death of Aegnil Luingil.

So ended the 23rd of February. The weddings had been held on the 22nd.
Edited by Ioristion, May 25 2016, 06:16 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XLIII: Lands of the Past

They awoke at dawn and the land was bathed in a golden haze that was at times blinding to their eyes. They awoke to find that Celebressel had awoken long before them and that the cape of Ioristion was missing. Malfinseron rubbed his eyes, turning to Findistedis, "Good morrow, my dear."

Findistedis smiled, "Good morrow to you, Malfinseron."

They deeply kissed each other.

Findistedis smiled, "Oh love..... tell me about the sea.... for it is but a rumor to most of us who dwell here in the Wood....."

Malfinseron smiled, "We have few good cities left, but they are there. Mithlond is the biggest. Most of us have retreated to Mithlond. But the pine-forests stretch down the Ered Luin that tower to our north and south, and the wind-swept sea flows into the harbors of Harlond and Forlond, and the towers of Mithlond spire high into the sky, the Tower Hills looming far to the east, with ever higher pinnacles. The gulls sing and the jet-blue surf foams-up in waves that lap on our shores. Great fish are caught and eaten on a daily basis. Skiffs sail out into the Gulf of Lhun that precedes the sea. The far-flung fields of Lindon rise to our north and south, green and filled with small rivers and streams, and blossoming forests, remnants of old Ossiriand, the only parts of Beleriand to remain partially above sea-level. But the more north or south you go, the lands get lonely, where seldom an Elvish tune is hummed or plucked on a harp or lyre. There may be small colonies even still, like that of Auruiron, but there are not many. But tell me about this Wood, love. I would most love to hear about it."

Findistedis settled warmly within Malfinseron's deep-azure cloak, the silver lining draped around her. She snuggled herself close against his chest and gazed upward at the golden canopy. They kissed anew, still in the warm youth of their marriage, and they continued resting against each other. Finally, she began: "I was born in a golden cradle and wrapped in silver in our manse high up on one of the higher flets in Caras Galadhon, the same manse you entered after you caught us peering in the Mirror in the Lady's fresh, green gardens in their lower tiers... Thindor, whom you have met, reared me since birth, and Caleneth our mother..... they dwell beneath the roof of House Tinnor.... our parents came from Doriath long ago. But we were born only eighty years ago. We had been conceived shortly before the revelation of the Necromancer in Dol Guldor, in the final hours of the Watchful Peace....... our parents had lost and then regained their nobility. My father discovered a cavern in Ered Luin that was filled to the brim with great jewels. And so I have heard tales similar to your own. They came to Eregion and sought the Golden Wood thereafter, and my father fought against the Enemy in the force of Lord Celeborn, but he was forced to retreat. My parents did not march to the war of the Last Alliance, for Eregion and the loss of Doriath had wearied their spirits...... but they did not fade, for the Lord and Lady came, and brought glory to this land...... and the great flets were built, the great houses and manses built atop of them..... such was the threshold that you crossed, Malfinseron. I remember seeing the Lord and Lady in all their glory, processing to their new home on the pinnacle, and all of us had gathered there. And they had brought great finery from the West, and such treasures that they could bear. They even planted lembas in this land. Many wonderful things were brought here. And when Amon Lanc was a great Elven Citadel of the Sindar, my parents had visited there, and brought back the great silk worms of the East......"

Malfinseron smiled, "So that is why you do not dress akin to the Beornings and woodsmen to the north."

Findistedis smirked, "I am curious as to where -your- finery came from."

Malfinseron laughed, "Silk-worms were grown in the West of old, and some of them were brought-over by the Noldor. These worms did not perish from the boiling of their cocoons, for the Powers had augmented them to withstand it. But now many of them are near-extinction, for the Eldar turned to grief and sorrow, and many who traveled West brought their thread-producing creatures with them. Still, some small colonies of them grow in their correct conditions... the Naugrim of Ered Luin grind crystal into a fine powder, and the cloak is dipped in a special oil that the powder sticks to.... I find it all quite fascinating. The past few years on the coast have been boring. Many of the Naugrim returned to Erebor, and not much trade occurs in the ports aside from fishing, or...... ships passing west..... never to return......."

Findistedis' eyes grew wide, "Do you think our....time... is at an end?"

Malfinseron nodded morosely.

Findistedis nodded, "Then let's live it up as much as we can before we, too, must board a boat."

Malfinseron smiled, "I like that thought.... very much...."
Edited by Ioristion, May 22 2016, 04:12 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XLIV: The Guilt of the Doriathrim

Lerinon opened his eyes on the 24th. Inheroth was still sleeping. Lerinon smiled, and slipped away, wanting some time alone to himself for once. He wandered over into an adjacent glade. He felt sick to his stomach. He ate a little more lembas as he walked. The lembas never made him sick. It was the lingering memories of the artifact and the dreams. He could not see Macilon, but felt as if he was there, watching him from darker shadows.

Cellindien watched him go, silently rising and following him a short time later. She had seen the smile and hoped that it bode well for the suffering elf, but was unwilling to leave him alone as Inheroth slept.

Lerinon stared into the beams of sunlight and looked down quickly, smiling, for day by day, his self-inflicted guilt declined slowly. The land was too peaceful to feel sad forever in it. He heard a faint rustling in the leaves behind him and turned around, "Oh..... hail sister......"

She stood but a short distance behind, face solemn as it had been since the Swordmaster's passing, and her eyes studied him sharply. "Brother. Are you well?"

Lerinon's eyes were downcast, "You are brave, to speak again to your father's murderer," Lerinon replied sadly. "I have not the right to tell you that I feel well, even if I find some small solace in these lands. I wander through these glades from day to day, as you have witnessed, you and my poor gwador who sleeps back there on the hillside. I kept these thoughts hidden from you throughout these past months, for I could not bear to hurt you further. My tongue is less concealed today. I know not why. Maybe it is because we plan to leave these lands. I overheard Ada at times talking about leaving. Where else in the world could I dare to tell you, than here?"

"My father's murderer is not here," she replied plainly. "And what have I to be afraid of? We are off to war. Others will die. I hope only that my... that the deaths will be swift." She looked about them, eyes roaming among the glade, following the path of a lone bird in the trees above. "You wish to tell me of your feelings of guilt, of despair?"

Lerinon heaved a deep sigh, "I should never have absconded with that accursed jewel. Your father might still be alive were it not for that stupidity. But now I have caught thine speech..... you think that death awaits you at the end of this road, do you not? Well..... maybe some small good can come from all this wretchedness. When I gazed into the artifact, I beheld two visions, and in the first, I was a great King, like my true father, Dior, of Doriath of old, and even Thranduil of Greenwood bowed down and worshipped me. This was my greatest and vainest desire. And the spirit warned me that if I plunged into such a vision again, that I would die. Then, I beheld the Elven-King Thranduil, who dueled me to the death, stabbing me in the gut. This was my greatest fear. And the same warning came from the accursed spirit by whose hand thy father's fea was taken from us! So, I ask you now. Tell me thine greatest desire. And tell me thine greatest fear. For I believe the Enemy seeks to use these against us, against all of us, within all of us individually. Each one of us must prepare to face the test. Your father faced the test bravely. But he did not withstand it. His fate will be our own, unless we do this."

"My father was doomed to die on this road," Cellindien replied softly. "He was gravely ill in spirit. It is a blessing that his fea was set free here, where he could be safely guided to the Halls. I am grateful for that. Do not bear the guilt for his death. He is now on the path to healing."

She sighed. "As for myself, I desire... rest... peace, when the battle has been finished. And my greatest fear..." She hesitated, raised her hands in front of her, palms up, and studied them. They seemed more worn than she remembered, thinner, though such a thing could not or should not be the case. "My greatest fear is that I will fail when I am needed most."

A form rose from the bushes behind them, "I overheard it all. Lerinon, I have stayed away from you, because in my blindness, I blamed you. But now I finally realize that I was the one who bade Aegnil touch the jewel-orb. It is not your place to feel guilt or ask forgiveness. It is mine. If anyone killed him, it was me, for daring to hearken to my horrid desires.... Macilon was my friend once, but he deceived me.... he deceived us all. I would not be surprised to learn that everything either of you have seen from that accursed jewel is a lie wrought by the Enemy. The only thing that does not pan-out sensibly is the warnings that he gave us. Why would the Enemy tell us to steel our nerves against our greatest fears and desires? You have said that your father was doomed to die, Cellindien. Perhaps it was so. I do not know what to make of it, but only to say this. I blamed myself and you, Lerinon, and kept myself away from either of you throughout these weeks. Me and the other veterans kept telling the same vain old war tales again and again and again. I think the lot of us are finally sick of it. I should now reveal the vision that the jewel gave me."

Cellindien shook her head and turned her palms out as if to keep him back, away from her and Lerinon. "No, Macil. No, it is not your fault. No, I do not wish to hear your visions, or any others. Perhaps they are lies, after all, for..." She took in a sharp breath, closing her eyes. "...It seems so long ago, I saw you... no, it was Rostor. I heard him say that he loved me."

Macil smiled, "A phantom told you that he loved you. I tell you that I love you. Let my words today count, not those of the phantom of thine mind. It could not have been me who spoke those words. I am not in the West or have any basin beside me. Yes, Ioristion already told me about your dream. It seems to me that you have revealed your greatest desire right then and there. Will you not hear out mine? How I saw the fields of Tum Laden once more, and kissed you again, and how you stood there like some ancient High Queen of old? Will you not hear the fear that overlaps with your own? Will you not hear how an arrow struck me in the chest, how the blood flowed out of my heart, as I leaped in front of you, to prevent your death? The phantom said that it is not fated, but only that it may be. If he is a fraud, as I suspect, would that not mean the arrow would kill you, far worse than my greatest fear? You are right.... it is not wholesome to speak of deceptive visions...."

She listened silently, but lifted her head, turning to look at him directly. He said now that he loved her. Now, in the face of the gravest danger they had ever faced, in the wake of sorrow, in spite of despair: she could not answer, but she smiled, softly, and held out her hand.

And Macil took it.

They held each others' hands for what seemed an eternity. It was not a full-blown romance, and Macil knew it, but it was a stepping stone, a new beginning, and that brought greater hope into Macil's heart.

He smiled at Lerinon, "Brother...... let there be peace between us now."

Lerinon nodded, saying nothing.

And Macil laughed, "Brother, we can fool doom itself. Tell Fareon to shoot any archer who aims at us out there."

And Lerinon laughed for the first time since Eregion.
Edited by Ioristion, May 25 2016, 06:17 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XLV: Their Greatest Duty

They solemnly stood for awhile. Then Lerinon saw Inheroth standing atop the hill overlooking the grove. He bowed and returned to Inheroth, and they looked back for several moments. Lerinon beckoned to him, and they disappeared behind the hill.

Macil turned toward Cellindien again, "Well...... here we stand. I meant what I said. I love you, and if it be my fate to take an arrow to save your life, then I will take it, despite my deepest fear. I will take it for you. I mean it. It is my way, the purpose that gives me strength. Long have I wandered in search of you, and ever have I followed you, even to the ends of the earth. And if death be my doom, then so be it. I....I am not afraid of it anymore. Not since I took your hand."

Cellindien was silent for a long moment. "And if I fall....? If death be my doom, then what?"

Macil knelt chivalrously on the golden leaves before her, "Then I will die with you. And we will brave the Halls of Mandos...... together......"

But then Macil posed, "What if death be neither of our dooms?"

She hesitated, expression conflicted. "Speak on..."

"Ever have you marched in the footsteps of duty. From the Swordmaster's tongue to the swinging of your sword. From the drills in the Court of the Fount through your duty to seek-out a new life. From your march to the Last Alliance to your duty to protect your brother, my brother, Ioristion. But what of love? Is love, not also, a duty, among many other graces?" Macil bowed his head low, pressing his forehead into the golden leaves on the forest floor.

"Love..." Cellindien whispered. She stood as if transfixed, confusion passing silently over her features, then shock. Then... there was nothing. Silence. Only her hair blew gently in the breeze, and the golden cloak rustled softly... Finally, she drew in a deep breath. Slowly she went down to her knees, reached for the other's hand and drew both forward until both of their hands were clasped between them. She bowed her head. "I see now... so long, and I thought I understood, at long last..." The words were little more than a whisper. Then, she raised her voice. "Macil, today... I renew my pledge to you. Let love be our duty, and our privilege. Our choice, as we leave this wood, come what may. It is my choice, and I will follow you."

Wind billowed Macil's rusty hair, shining fiery in the sunlight, his fiery dark cloak flowing behind him, as golden leaves blew past him. Gentle tears streamed down Macil's cheeks, "I renew my pledge to you. Yes... it shall be. Our duty and our privilege.... our choice, come what may. And I will follow you."

But then Macil thought of the dream. He thought of Macilon's stern countenance. He thought of the prospect of Cellindien transfiguring into Guldrambor, fell and terrible, before his eyes, the kiss of death. He slowly rose to his feet, "And this duty shall not be childish, as it was in our days of youth. Come, Cellindien. We must rejoin the others. Both of our brothers are likely worrying themselves over us. Ioristion will have to carry the artifact, as is his mandate, and we must protect both him and Lerinon from its fell powers, and prevent it from ruining the minds and fea'r of others. It is the least we can do for poor Aegnil........ forget Aegnil. His name was Luingil. And I name him as my father. May he rest in peace. We will visit his grave one last time, I think, before we depart these lands." He extended his right hand to Cellindien.

She rose with him and quietly took his hand, gripping it gently, but with a firm strength. She nodded, eyes lingering on his face for a moment longer than was necessary. Then she nodded again. "My father would be proud to have you as a son, as I am honored to stand beside you. Thank you."

Macil nodded, as they strode up the hill toward the glade where she awoke.
Edited by Ioristion, May 23 2016, 09:50 AM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XV: One Last Attempt

Auruiron processed quietly through the woods toward his tent, with Melimwe at his side.

"I think we ought to probe it one more time," Auruiron sighed sadly.

Melimwe stammered, "That would prove most unwise, my beloved brother. You may lose your life as Aegnil did."

Auruiron nodded sadly, "Even still.... Aegnil was more battered than I was.... and I have endured the Enemy's visions before. How can I, their noble father, stand by while they suffer? I saw them coming out of the tent yesterday with horrified faces. I think I know what they did. I tried to talk sense into my son, Lerinon, but he would not listen to me. He did tell me his nightmares, and I believe that it is high time I found-out what my deepest fears and desires are, truly, so that I may steel my nerve as well, and resist them for my children."

Melimwe laughed, smiling, "What has come over you, to care so much for your children now?"

Auruiron nodded, "Poor Aegnil's death brought the reality of it all back to me. Why do you think we lingered for so long on the shores of Lhun in Minas Noldorion? These days are dark, Melimwe, fell and evil, and I have long feared them..........enough of this banter. At least Makalaure is safe beneath the Golden Bough. You would think his death would be my greatest fear, but I know that he is safe..........."

Melimwe nodded, "I can see that I cannot persuade you to a different course of action. Very well! But you will not face it alone."

Auruiron smiled, "Come then, brother. It is time to meet this Macilon whom we have heard so much about."

"I saw him once," Melimwe nodded, "When he was living. He served the Mole in those days, an adversary to us."

"And what, pray, do you think that you are doing?" Yucalwe strutted up to them, his cloak streaming. "Another Noldo with a red and black cloak. I am curious to meet him as well."

And Saelbainor approached, "You will not face the Mole alone, Melimwe, nor shall any of you. I believe that Macilon sought to supplant Maeglin in those days and failed to do so. And I would have words with him, phantasm, lie, or truth."

Auruiron nodded, "Then we must hurry before my sons find-out. And we must do so without alerting the Lady to our presence. We are leaving these lands in any case, within the next day."

Melimwe nodded, "Then, let us get to it then and get it over with. I hope we will have an answer -this- time. I am growing impatient with all of these unwise probing attempts."

They gathered in the tent and placed the orb-shaped jewel in the center of the tent. They outspread their cloaks, chanting, "Powers of the West, we come before you. Powers of the West, before thee we bow. Powers of the West, reveal thine power." They bowed and all touched the orb at once, and they turned to see Macilon appearing in their midst.

Macilon gathered his arms in the folds of his cloak, his red folds gleaming in the jewel-light, "Doom-laden exiles, followers of Feanor. What do you seek to know?"

A tear flowed down Auruiron's cheek, "The fate of Aegnil."

Macilon nodded, "He dwells within the Master's Halls. But you will not believe me. You will believe that I am a contrivance of thine Foe. My Master feared that this be so."

Melimwe laughed, "You are a clever deceiver as ever, Macilon. Your arts of deception are not lies, but twistings of the truth, if ye be Elvish and not phantom."

Yucalwe and Saelbainor said nothing. They were questioning their own sanity.

Macilon laughed, "If I were a fell phantom, an evil spirit of the ancient world, I should not waste time in speech. I would rather declare, 'Come back! Come back! To Mordor I shall take you, and stand you beneath the Lidless Eye, and make ye marvel in terror at the Dark Lord, in all his loathsome horror. I appear fair to you, do I not?"

Yucalwe smirked, "Only the foul among us wear the color black. I have known that I am foul all my life, and so I wear it."

Macilon smirked, "Yet you are fairer far beneath thine feigned and lonesome shadow. So, also, am I. Why, I could cross the sea, and come in person as Glorfindel did, if the Powers did not forbid me."

"And why do they forbid you?" Auruiron interrogated.

Macilon nodded sadly, "Because the time of the Eldar is nearing its final end. And you shall not live for more thousands of years beneath the roof of Minas Noldorion. That is my prophecy."

Auruiron nodded, "I already knew.... for a far greater Power spoke through me....."

Macilon smiled, "Indeed He did. Tell me, do you believe that I murdered Aegnil?"

Saelbainor frowned, "I believe that he was dead.... not long thereafter first sighting you, which I presume he did. How shall we guess or seek to know what shall happen next to us? Will you slay us, too, as you slew him?"

Macilon bowed, "His fea was weak and fading. And his spirit was not long for this world. It would have expired whether or not he saw me, or touched the artifact. He would not have left these shores, regardless."

"Enough already!" Yucalwe shouted. "Show unto us our deepest fears and hopes. Do not bother to tell us that the next time we see them, we shall die! That is already apparent."

Macilon smirked, "Ever straightforward, are you, son of Yuale? Your father waits for you." His face fell on Auruiron, "As does.... Lord Alcarin.......and both of you will have much to answer for."

Those words cut at Auruiron's heart-chords. He knew that he had betrayed his father during the First Kinslaying. It had haunted him privately throughout his life. And the mention of Yuale caused Yucalwe's fea to melt inside, for deep was the terror of encountering him again.

And Macilon outspread his cloak, and the tent faded, and all else faded, into shadow for them all.

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Ioristion

Chapter XVI: The Visions of Auruiron

Auruiron wandered through the streets of Tirion. It all felt very surreal as he walked. He saw Macilon beckoning to him, to sit at the bench where Auruiron had sat as a child, watching Macalaure from afar. Auruiron stammered, "I will not sit. Come and show me what you wish to show me."

Macilon stood, "Very well. Come, thy attendants await thee."

Auruiron found himself surrounded by Noldorin and Vanyarin attendants. He heard the voice of Macalaure singing from within the Citadel, singing of a High King's arrival. Auruiron's cloak had grown longer and vaster, and ever more shining in its beauty, as the attendants upheld his train, as he began to process. His hair was longer and beautified. Crowds of Elves through rose-petals in the air, bowing as he passed them by. It reminded him of King Finwe's processions of old. When they reached the pinnacle of the stairs, and passed beneath the threshold, the Citadel was bathed in light, and filled with greater crowds. And Macalaure was cloaked in the cloak that Auruiron had given to him. He ceased to sing and outspread his cloak and bowed. Auruiron embraced him deeply as they kissed each other on their cheeks in their mutual affection. Then Macalaure bowed and followed Auruiron by his side, and Auruiron ascended the stairs of an empty Throne: the Throne of Finwe. Music played and harpists harped and trumpets blasted-out their sounds as Auruiron sat, and Macalaure crowned him High King of the Noldor.

There was a loud applause, and then the floor before the Throne was cleared, as prisoners were brought into his midst. Most of Auruiron's family and extended family sat by Auruiron's side, as did the other six sons of Feanor in all their beauty.

Morgoth and Sauron were bound in chains, and with them was Feanor, also bound, and Auruiron's own father, Alcarin. They were mocked and humiliated and Auruiron ruthlessly declared their sentences: to be cast into the Door of Night, forever. Then they were led away and cast into the shadows. Auruiron stood, outspreading his cape, and everyone applauded, and many crawled before him on their knees, and worshiped him.

"Need I remind you?" Macilon voiced.

Auruiron's heart fell, "I know.... this is all naught but a fantasy. It can never be. It is a fell and deep desire....... I.....I am as fallen as Feanor............" He wept sadly as the crowds faded, until the Citadel was empty, save for the two of them. "And....... perhaps I do forgive my father."

Macilon smiled, "My heart is glad that you have realized these things."

The doors of the Citadel flew open, as Findekano processed into the chamber, "You have done well to do so, Auruiron. Beware thine foe. For thine foe will harm you. Do you not know? Lord Mandos has released me, long before Ioristion found me in that tomb as he supposed he did. Your visions are not deceptions, Auruiron. Not these. I assure you. I stand with the Maia and Macilon. We have been chosen for each generation, to watch over you, to protect and to guide you. But know that it is perilous for the Eldar to commune with the West."

Auruiron nodded, "This is why.... I suspect that all of this must be a falsehood. It would prove simple for Guldrambor to masquerade as a Maia of the West, pretending that he is communing with us, through you, from across the sea. It has never been done, not even through the palantir of the Tower Hills."

Findekano sighed, "Then I cannot persuade you. Believe what you will, son of Alcarin. Thy time will come."

With that, Findekano's golden cloak swept over Auruiron's face, drawing him close, as all faded once more into shadow. And Findekano whispered, "Maitimo Nelyafinwe will follow Macalaure across the sea. Fear not for him. As for the other sons of Feanor, or of Feanor himself, I must not speak."

Auruiron stammered, "Your visions were projected into the Last Homely House in Rivendell. You were invisible to Lord Elrond's Ring. How is this possible?"

Findekano smiled, "I am no power of thine Foe."

Auruiron nodded, "I cannot believe it, and so I must probe you further. This is akin to the powers that permitted Morgoth to force Hurin to watch Turin suffer and die with his sister, according to our legends."

Findekano nodded, "It is. Powerful is the Lord Lorien of Dreams. It is all within the artifact, Auruiron, and within thine cloaks. Without them, you would not see us."

Auruiron stammered, "But most visions from the West are vague, or formulaic, in the style of prophesy!"

Findekano laughed, "But thine imagination is not formulaic, is it? To those whom would expect words in verse, words in verse are given. And to those who would expect prose, prose is given. Would you prefer verse? Seek for the land that is far in the East, Seek for the land that is bereft of light, Seek for the land where one light flickers, and Seek for the land where you shall fight. Is that better?"

Macilon smiled, "Come, Lord Findekano. It is time to show him his deepest fear."

Auruiron walked on a corpse-strewn desert. Every Elf who had fought under his command was dead, including his own sons. The shadow rose from the shores of Rhun, consuming Auruiron entirely.

Auruiron cowered in the darkness. He found himself in the courtyard of Tirion once more. Findekano and Macilon stood before him. They outspread their cloaks in all their majesty, embracing Auruiron, and then Findekano was gone, and Auruiron found himself restored to the Golden Wood, in the tent with the others. And Macilon shrouded Auruiron within his dark cloak, and Auruiron felt his warm breath, felt him kiss his cheek, and heard him say, "We are flamboyant... as thine own mind."
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Ioristion

Chapter XVII: The Visions of Yucalwe, Melimwe, and Saelbainor

The other three wandered in their visions. Yucalwe fought Yuale and was kin-slain by his own father. Melimwe saw Auruiron dying in his arms. Saelbainor found himself battling with Guldrambor to the death, plunging off a cliff into storm and shadow. Then Yucalwe found himself in the Gardens of Lorien, embracing Amanuiron in all his beauty. And Melimwe found himself sailing into the West with Auruiron, arriving on the shores of Aman. And Saelbainor found himself serving King Thingol again in all his glory.

And then they beheld Findekano, who spoke with them, concerning Auruiron. When Macilon restored the three to their tent, he spoke the same words he had spoken to Auruiron: "We are flamboyant... as thine own mind."

Macilon outspread his cape anew before them, "Exiled children...... know that you are all bound to one same doom. For thine Foe hath toyed with thine minds far in advance of this day, far in the West so long ago....... thine flamboyant imaginations. But the minds of the Dunedain were not flamboyant, and so they could not hear the West through their sacred stones. And those who gaze from the Seat of Seeing cannot hear the West. And those who sit in the Seat of Hearing cannot hear the West. Some might hear a voice in verse, with direct visions flowing, if their minds were more open to them. But you, who dwelt in the West, can see and hear us hither, for the ban has been lifted from thy fea'r. Most that ye have seen has been drawn from thine own memories, or from thine own minds, thine own imaginations. You have these powers already."

And Auruiron embraced Macilon, "Blessed messenger..... close shall I hold you unto my heart. It would appear that the artifact is blessed after all."

"It would appear so," Melimwe concurred.

Saelbainor nodded.

Yucalwe sighed, "Yet even still, let us remain wary of it. For we tread toward the realm of fell powers."

They hid the artifact back in its sack.

Macilon smiled, "Come. For the Powers bid me show thee.... one final vision, in thy preparation......"
Edited by Ioristion, Jun 3 2016, 10:25 AM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XVIII: The Final Vision

Macilon whisked his cloak around them, and they peered out of the folds, to see a large gathering of Easterlings, many noble and richly-garbed, as a great being processed down the center of their lines, into a Citadel. They found themselves in a vast and unknown city on the shores of the sea of Rhun. And the palace that they beheld was laden with gold with hanging gardens. Many of the Easterlings had slit-eyes, clothed in golden robes and red cloaks. And there were oliphaunts and Haradrim and Variags, all brought from the south.

And Sauron's remaining Mouths all bowed before the being who approached, their new Master. His hair was bright, snow-blond, and his cape was long and vast, gold lined with fiery red. And his face was feminine and masculine. It was difficult to know his gender. Men and women were clearly enamored with him, and many of them were young. Many boys who had just become adults processed behind him, upholding his train. Macilon and the Elves sneaked into the Citadel. The others did not appear to see them watching. Unlike their previous visions, these events appeared to be in the category of 'may yet be.' For they found it odd that Sauron's Mouths would bow to him and not to Sauron, while Sauron was still alive.

The being turned and sat majestically on the throne, crowned with a crown of gold. His eyes gleamed darkly. His countenance was great and terrible. And he proclaimed, "I am the Light Lord of Rhun, thy gracious and beautiful King."

They all applauded and bowed before him. The young men all knelt and kissed his cape, burying their heads in his folds. The being was beguiling all of them. The young women joined the frenzy. The being stood and outspread his folds, as his attendants shook them, making them vibrantly, vigorously, vibrate in waves of silk. There was a great flash of light, and his cloak had become iridescent, gleaming in many colors. The Easterlings were all bowing before him, worshiping him as a god.

And Macilon whispered, "Does not this behavior appear familiar to you all?"

The Elves nodded soberly.

But Auruiron declared, "I will defy this feigned deity!"

The vision faded from their minds. As the vision faded, a flicker of flame still burned low in the East, as if a candle. Then all went dark, as the tent slowly reformed around them into focus.

Suddenly, Macilon vanished.

And then the real Macilon slipped into the tent.

The Elves gazed at him in shock, their mouths gaping wide.

And Macilon laughed, "Tell me. Have you discerned thine artifact's powers yet, thousands of years beyond its crafting? I am flesh and blood, Auruiron. The artifact is naught but a trifle augmented by this Amanuiron's powers. He vanished into the East long ago. Everything that you have seen was projected from thine own minds, thine own phantasms, thine own dreams."

Auruiron yelled, "Then why the deception, if you are flesh and blood!"

Macilon smiled, "I was near at hand all along......... I even hid in Lady Rostoriel's basement."

Melimwe folded his arms, "Now you will -really- have to explain yourself. Begin with the visions."

Macilon laughed, "I escaped from Gondolin long ago, after Macil left me for dead. My fall was far, but not far enough to kill me. Several bones were broken, and I lost conscious.... but the bones were reset by healers, and I was not destroyed. I did not dash upon the rocks as Maeglin did, nor was my fall as far. As a servant of the Mole, I was accorded with feigned respect at first. But the Enemy wanted the remnants of Maeglin's House alive, to serve him in the mines of Angband. My wound was cared for by fellow survivors, with remnants of the herb-stock of Gondolin. Macil thought my wound was deep, and so did I, but I recovered from it and the Yrch did not hinder us. Then, they forced us on a grueling march, and lashed us, and made us march all the way to Angband, and slave, and labor, and toil to survive. They fed us maggoty bread and other fell things, such as a burning liquid. Then the Host of the West came and sprang us. The Vanyar cared for us and restored us as they could. I long since paid for my crimes. Then I met a Maia among the Host, the brother of Amanuiron, who told me his tale. He marked my forehead with ashes and let me go. He told me, not only of Macil, but of Melimwe's kin. He also spoke of Findekano and what was to come. He spoke to me of the artifact, of what it does, and of what to do. There was another who rested with and cared for me. The one called Faeleth."

"My wife!" Auruiron exclaimed.

"She bade me bury the artifact before the Enemy arrived in Eregion. She refused to leave her manse, and I could not save her. The Maia had given me strict orders not to reveal myself to -you-, Auruiron, until the proper time. But I followed and trailed Macil, protecting him in secret through his travels. I was forbidden to reveal myself until now, because I was told that many of these events were doomed to be, and that I was not to interfere with their progression. They were doomed only in the sense that they were part of a master-plan devised by a Power greater than us all..... and our free will might further or hinder that plan. So I obeyed and did not question it. Macil -thought- that he was dreaming of me, but seldom did I reveal myself, save on few occasions. As for Findekano: know that this was channeled through the cloak of Ioristion, not through the staff. For the cloak of Ioristion had once been bathed in the Garden of Lorien. It's properties are lesser than that of the artifact, yet still potent. Findekano was conjured by Ioristion's imagination. Indeed, I once saw Findekano through my cloak, when my mind deeply desired to see him. Only the combined imaginations of Ioristion and Cellindien preserved them from the Enemy's bile."

Auruiron gasped, "So the real Findekano has had nothing to do with us."

Macilon nodded slowly, "As to that, I can say neither yea nor nay, for it is not permitted for me to tell -you- thus, and it had been foretold that I would know the right time to reveal myself. I felt it now, after these recent visions, strongly. It was a final performance of my mind through the artifact. I needed only to be near at hand to do this, and not necessarily in the tent. Do you want to know what you were doing in reality?"

"Oh tell us already!" Yucalwe stammered. "You clever sneak!"

Macilon laughed grimly, "You were all doing naught but thinking, meditating, pondering, and imagining. That was all. Many, including mortals, can have imaginary conversations in their own minds. It was all a fiction. A fiction that spoke truthful things. I did not kill Aegnil. Aegnil's mind remembered what had almost happened to him in Gondolin. His fea was expiring and fading, it was his own way of dying. My presence complicated matters, I suppose, but it most certainly did not kill him."

Yucalwe seized Macilon by the cape-collars, "You disgraceful Elf! House of the Mole indeed.... give us -one- reason not to drown you in the river."

"Prevent a Fourth Kinslaying?" Macilon balked. "I did not lie. I simply did not reveal the truth. I said neither yes nor no. Your minds imagined me, and, indeed, our minds were joined within the artifact. It is not a palantir. It cannot see across vast distances, nor can it project vague images or visions into the viewer's mind. All it can do is project one's imagination, one's own thoughts and feelings, into the form of an image before one's eyes. It does nothing more and nothing less. But these images will tell some truth regarding the viewer. Auruiron, both you and Macil and the rest of you -wanted- me to be in the West with a Maia standing at my side with a basin, and that is what you saw. I saw it, too, through my cloak that I wore, hidden beneath my servant's clothes. Cellindien, likewise, -wanted- to believe that Rostor was standing with the same Maia across the sea. I was merely a quiet witness, ever eavesdropping. I am hale and strong enough to survive on the own, being in Morgoth's mines gave me that. But I have not lost my nobility. I have ranged across the lands in exile for Ages. For a time, I dwelt in Lindon in secret, and then, in Eregion. I even disguised myself and dwelt in Minas Noldorion for a time, such as the time when you and Macalaure returned thence."

Auruiron seized Macilon by the shoulders, "You -did- that, did you not?"

Macilon laughed, "Your nightmares? No, the bile did. As to how that bile came to Minas Noldorion, it came from your wounds in Evendim, I have surmised. Guldrambor's wandering spies crossed the world with such evil. I suspect that the man who stabbed you was a wild-man of some sort. Now as to how the bile came to him, I cannot say. Maybe it was through trade, if the bile was disguised in casks of wine or ale. But I knew of the bile for I, one of your servants in that time, had witnessed the mess that you endured. I have served in Lady Rostoriel's House and within thine own manse, Auruiron."

Auruiron nodded and then balked, "Trade seldom occurs in this day and age. Think again. Where would that bile have been stored and why?"

Macilon smirked, "Perhaps the Enemy buried it himself. Perhaps he settled for a time in the north in hiding, being forced to journey further East with the arrival of more and more Elves in that land. Perhaps he intended that someone would find and be corrupted by it, and that it would work its mischief."

Melimwe remarked, "Now that is quite intelligent of you to determine. It does not explain how you have lived nigh us but kept thine identity hidden."

Macilon smiled, "That part was simple. I watched all of you in secret from Lindon to Eregion. I followed Macil to the War of the Last Alliance. My cloak, that I have mentioned, was augmented by the Maia, a gift for an exile long astray, nigh the end of the War of Wrath. I was to represent the Maia in this struggle, while the Maia remained in the West far away, unable to interfere. The artifact will be most instrumental against our foe. Keep it well and hidden. Do not use it idly."

Auruiron nodded, "So you ceased to follow us and trailed Macil. How did you return to us?"

Macilon nodded, "With Macil dwelling in Edhellond, I decided to return to Lindon by ship, and I left Edhellond in secret. I returned to your colony in Minas Noldorion, where I became Alwedon, the Blessed One, and I kept watch over Ioristion, as I know Macil would have wanted me to. Findekano entered into the fold as I trailed Ioristion and Cellindien on their little hunting trip. I was clever enough to avoid being in their sight. I am the silent watcher who watches in the night."

Saelbainor sat down on the ground, "My head hurts........ so let me get this straight. You survived the Fall of Gondolin, lived as a slave in the Enemy's mines, was liberated by a Maia of Lorien, who told you everything, and set you on a quest to keep watch over our family and Macil, and you followed Macil all the way to Mordor, and you followed him to Edhellond, where you dwelt for a time under a different eposse and in different garb, and blended-in among the rest?"

Macilon nodded.

Saelbainor continued, "And I did not recognize you, and if I saw you, I would not have known it was you. And nor did Yucalwe recognize you. And nor did Macil. We all lived in different districts of the Havens. Then you sailed north, back to Minas Noldorion, where no one knew you, and Ioristion knew you only within the tales of Macil?"

Macilon nodded, "And then I was able to probe Ioristion's mind through the powers of my cloak. I saw his madness. I tried to reason with him. But he only saw Findekano, all his mind ever wanted to see or believe, and he imagined the story of Findekano being imprisoned in a Staff in a cavern in Eregion by thine Foe. I did not masquerade as Findekano. I merely witnessed everything that Ioristion's, and later, both he and Cellindien's minds, beheld. Such is the power of the artifacts and the cloaks. Ioristion never saw me. Ioristion was hallucinating. But he believed that it was true. I was near at hand when others of your kin also believed that they saw Findekano. I believe Macalaure was wearing the cape that Auruiron had given to him ages earlier, when Findekano seemed to appear before him and another. Of Maitimo Nelyafinwe, I am forbidden to speak, although I knew something of his fate before he plunged into the fiery abyss. Of him, I can say no more, but I know, truly, that there was nothing that I could have done to alter it. Of the prophecies of Laurefinde, the sage, I also cannot speak, though I am aware of them, in part, thanks to Uireb, the Maia, brother of Amanuiron, born before the existence of Time....."

Saelbainor continued, "It is..... awe-inspiring and terrifying at the same time. You trailed Ioristion throughout Eriador, to the point of finding the artifact. And then you returned."

Macilon nodded, "I maintain that Lady Cellindien's innermost thoughts must have desired to conjure Rostor before her eyes, and the artifact responded. And then Macil returned himself. I kept myself aloof in the madness that followed. Whether or not Macil cared to recognize me, I do not know. I think he was quite preoccupied. I followed you all back to Eregion, serving with the healers, and I saw Macil only from a distance. I trailed both of you, Auruiron and Yucalwe, into the ruined Citadel of Ost-en-Edhil, where your mind thought it saw what it expected: the fell memory of Celebrimbor being tortured to death by the Enemy. You returned to Imladris. I resumed my duties in the household of Lady Rostoriel. Then, I followed you into the Misty Mountains, one year later. I seemed to appear and disappear, for I was in part truly an apparition, someone Macil's innermost mind desired to see, even if he did not consciously know it. He wore the augmented cloak that had multiplied itself. Then I slept near Lerinon, and when he touched the artifact, I touched it too, without him knowing. And when Macil touched the artifact, he did not see me touch it, nor did Aegnil, for they both already perceived the imaginary version of me. When Malfinseron and several others touched it recently, I slipped into the tent behind them, and they did not notice my presence, and they touched it, and so did I, even amidst the scuffle. Everything that you have seen in your visions, I have witnessed, and taken part. It was ever thine cloaks or thine artifact that projected thine imagination forth. For the waters of Lorien intermingle with the tears of the Vala in the Vala's Spring. This, I have learned. Every vision that you have seen was not at random. Thine imaginations conjured them forth, but the powers, the West permitted. Each contains some truth amidst a sea of fancies. Go ahead, touch the artifact now, and see if it does anything."

Auruiron reached down to it, reluctantly, and touched it, and nothing happened.

The others could only gaze at Macilon in awe. He and the capes and the Jewel had manipulated them for centuries, without them ever realizing it.

There was a long silence. Finally, Auruiron dared to speak, "It will be.... difficult, for Macil, for Ioristion, for Cellindien, for all of them, to learn the truth.......a truth I doubt they will accept. I charge you to remain aloof, until the proper time. While I believe you, Macilon, being of flesh and blood, I do not think that the others will believe your convoluted tale, for it is a confusing tale, and it unhinges many things that have been previously believed. Macil still believes that you are an evil spirit who murdered Aegnil. I know he does. Beware of him, for he may try to slay you."

Macilon nodded sadly, "And that was the one chief flaw in all my plans. Something that I ought to have foreseen. Let them believe that I am a phantom for awhile. You are right. It is not yet time for me to reveal my survival to them. Macil still believes that lovely story, that I had died repentantly in his arms. I was repentant, but I did not die, and I did not show it until the Vanyar rescued me..... I must hide my cape again in the servants' tent. Excuse me...."

Silence reigned chiefly in the tent as the flaps closed around Macilon.

It hit Auruiron hard: no communications with the West had occurred. Only his channeling of the One now appeared to be authentic. But the rest were all lies, all deceits, all cheats.... all flowing from his own imagination and into his eyes, nothing more, and nothing less, each containing some truth for the viewer to behold. The rest was all flamboyant because his mind was, and the minds of many in his Company were equally flamboyant. That may have been the truest thing Macilon ever said to them.

Auruiron tried to reason through it again, trying to condense all of the conflicting truths that he had heard: that Macilon was real and truly traveling with them and that he had disguised himself as a servant and as a wanderer throughout the ages, influencing the artifact whenever he could, joining himself with the minds of whoever touched it. And he was ever bound to them through the cloak the Maia had given to him long ago, and their own cloaks, by virtue of their bathing in the Vala's Spring, too, possessed these powers, but only when the West permitted their powers to unfold. Their imaginations had conjured the images and that was why they were confusing, often contradicting each other and tricking them. But that was all the artifact ever did: tap into their dreams and make them dream.

And Macilon had also preserved their lives without them knowing it. He, too, strove with Macalaure and Ancalimo and the others in saving Auruiron's life, from his secret position behind one of the lofty billowing curtains in Minas Noldorion, using his mind and his cloak to ward-off the deceptions made by the bile. He had helped save Ioristion and Cellindien from the bile from a similar hiding place. He was not Findekano, but he did not lie to them. For their own minds had perceived Findekano, and Macilon had not channeled that appearance.

Auruiron tried to reason through it again and again as he stood in the tent. Finally, he turned to Yucalwe, "Where did -you- get that cloak of yours from, the cloak that multiplied before our eyes in Lady Rostoriel's basement?"
Edited by Ioristion, May 31 2016, 10:38 AM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XIX: The Mystery of the Cloaks

Yucalwe shook his head, "It was my cloak. I had woven it. Something had augmented it in the presence of both your golden cloaks and the artifact."

Auruiron's eyes grew wide, "Oh............ I wonder if Amanuiron bathed my Jewel in the same Spring in which I bathed my cloaks, before he became evil......"

Yucalwe closed his eyes, "That possibility is strong....... and it may now be working against him. But why would he give the jewel away so willingly, if he sought to use it to cause us harm? And if it was the Spring, then it would have to be the source of my cloak's multiplicity. Water multiplies, it grows and spreads as it flows, and severs itself into droplets...... and dreams grow and spread, and flow at times through our minds, like rivers........"

Auruiron laughed, "But then why is not all of our garb augmented and multiplying?"

Yucalwe shook his head, "I do not know. I suppose that, like the visions, it is bound by the Powers' Will. It must only do it at certain times. My cloak may never multiply ever again."

Auruiron nodded, "I think Macilon has aided us in finally solving these mysteries. Regarding Amanuiron giving me the jewel, he sought to use it to sow jealousy between us, did he not?"

Yucalwe nodded slowly, "And that would mean that its purpose was solely metaphysical, to divide our Houses against each other. Did he forget its own powers?"

Auruiron slowly smiled, "He might have been overconfident. He may have indeed believed that he controlled these powers, when in fact, only his imagination did so, before it parted from his possession."

Yucalwe bowed, "I think we have discerned his weakness. But let us not be overconfident ourselves. Well, I believe that Macilon's account of the Powers most certainly explains why our cloaks are not multiplying themselves at random, and why we are not immediately seeing visions of the past or of the future or aimless dreams whenever we touch or wear them. And what ruined creatures we must be, if we thought we were actually seeing the truth all the time in miraculous visions."

Auruiron nodded sadly, "It all seemed too good to be true. But I know, for the visions that I have seen, that it made me see the truths of my vainest desires and darkest fears. We must... turn away from them....... somehow....."

Yucalwe nodded gravely, "Yes..... we must..........oh we must prepare the others somehow."

Auruiron nodded, "In the meantime, let Macilon continue-on as a servant, until the time has come. What think you of that last vision that we saw, the four of us, combining our imaginations, apparently, together?"

Yucalwe shook his head, "I do not know. I suspect, for now, that it was born only from our mental images of 'The East,' of what we believe that our Enemy might be achieving. Our own minds have been tricking us throughout all of this...... it baffles me.......but if there are some truths to it, then I would imagine that Saelbainor had seen the city and the type and manner of that Easterling people during his wandering in search of Dior, before he came to Edhellond........I have seen Amanuiron in his fairest form, that was accurate......."

Auruiron closed his eyes, "I believe...... that the Powers are still involved, if only to permit our imaginings to be cast into our own line of sight.........my head hurts, Yucalwe. Let us let the subject linger for now........ I....I will find Ioristion and tell him........"

Yucalwe nodded, "And I had better find Macil......"
Edited by Ioristion, May 23 2016, 01:51 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XX: The Song of Gold and Silver

Alcano had awoken to find all three of his companions missing. Malfinseron and Findistedis were resting beside each other in a nearby glade. He folded his arms in his cape and turned to see a blinding force of gold processing toward him, flickering white, silver, and gold, brightly in the sunlight.

Alcano crawled forward on his knees toward her. It was Celebressel, wearing the cloak of Ioristion beneath her own. She outstretched her arms in all her beauty, her shining silver hair flowing down her shoulders, her golden folds sparkling, glittering, gleaming, and Alcano's heart was throbbing as he gazed at her.

She marched forward and then covered him in her folds, and lowered herself gradually, until she was resting right beside him. She came beneath the folds with him. They could not halt from kissing each other. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. They kissed each other countless times on their cheeks and lips. They did not let go of each other, their faces buried in their hair, soft and silky. Their betrothal and marriage had been swift. Alcano felt curious. He wanted to know what she had seen in the Mirror of him, to make her want to marry him so quickly. But he did not want to discuss dreams and visions, not since what had happened to them the other day in Auruiron's tent. She was his bejeweled Lady, and he was her Lord. It reminded him of the tales of Rostor and Finlos in their youth in Gondolin, only even more flamboyant. Alcano never realized how childish it was.

They gradually stood-up beside each other. Alcano had dove-right into their marriage. He was desperate. He knew what could happen: a long time of waiting with little unification of their love. He, Macil, had cheated himself, Alcano reasoned, and so did Cellindien. Alcano had no idea that their betrothal had been renewed.

The wind billowed through their hair beautifully, as if they were constantly flirting with each other. And Celebressel declared, "Now..... let me dance for you..... as you danced for me...... my Eagle...."

Gold, white, and silver silk, glittering brightly, twirled and billowed in the wind as she spun her folds and twirled them and spun in circles. He relished every moment of it. Then he did the same when she ceased her dance, her heart throbbing as his fiery hair flowed in the wind, his cape flapping and gliding gallantly around him. They kissed anew. They sat back down, tired from their dance. As they moved to kiss again, they saw Yucalwe rise over the crest of the adjacent hill, his dark cloak swirling around him.

Yucalwe thought, I shall persuade them first...... then they shall aid me in persuading Macil. "Hail friends!" He shouted. "I have much to tell you......"
Edited by Ioristion, May 23 2016, 02:13 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XXI: Toward the River Glades

By the time they were finished speaking, Malfinseron and Findistedis had joined them, and had heard everything. The sisters were ready and willing to believe anything after their experiences with the Mirror that they both refused to speak further of. It made sense to Alcano, and Malfinseron was too weary to contest anything for once in his life.

By the time they had begun to travel toward the glades closer to the river, where Lerinon, Inheroth, Macil, and Cellindien were staying, they found Auruiron with Ioristion and Rostoriel cradled in his arms, wrapped-up in Auruiron's cloak. Ioristion was crying uncontrollably. Alcano quickly joined the attempts to console his father. Rostoriel was noticeably in shock, shedding quieter tears. She knew the servant whom Auruiron referred to. He had seemed familiar to her, but she could not place him, for Macilon had perished long ago within her mind. Now it all made sense. She did not know whether to be furious or crying with her husband.

Finally, Ioristion ceased weeping, "I.....I understand now...... but it is rough. Ada........I cannot believe that our minds have been veiled to this, for so long....."

Auruiron sighed, "Nor can I, my son..... nor can I.........."

And Celebressel swiftly restored Ioristion's cloak to his shoulders.

They soon reached the right glade and found the four of them. Cellindien and Macil seemed different. Auruiron knew what had happened: it was the same glances that he, Auruiron, and Faeleth, had exchanged between each other centuries earlier, not long before their wedding. Inheroth and Lerinon were sitting on the hillside embracing each other, Lerinon's cloak wrapped around them both. Lerinon had clearly been crying his eyes dry.

Yucalwe steeled his nerve and told them everything, in the most concise way that he could. Silence followed, as he awaited their response. And Macil seemed furious.

So it fell on Yucalwe to attend the truth.
Edited by Ioristion, May 23 2016, 08:08 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XXII: Rendering the Clear Account

Macil listened intently to Yucalwe's strange tale. His eyes grew wide. He was furious. He held Cellindien's hand tightly. When Yucalwe finished, Macil laughed: "Do you truly expect me to believe this rubbish, Commander? What has come over you?"

Yucalwe glared, "You know that I would never lie to you."

Ioristion wimpered, "Findekano never came! It was all in our minds!" He had assumed thus. He had come to believe, on his own, that Macilon was being kind, to avoid telling him the blunt truth directly, revealing only part of it.

Macil balked, "You are crazy. Do you know that? Madness and more madness. I will not believe it! He appeared and disappeared, this Macilon! He would vanish before my very eyes! He is a ploy by the Enemy to defeat us! Can you not see it!"

Macilon bravely walked down the hill in his servant-garb, for he had trailed them. "Look around yourself, Rostor. Where is the artifact?"

Macil drew his sword with his free-hand, "Get back, you evil spirit! Get back! You shall not pass here! Be gone from this sacred Wood, foul spawn of Guldrambor!"

Cellindien had held her peace, but as Macilon approached she jumped to her feet, sword at the ready.

Macilon laughed, "You thought me dead!"

Macil stammered, holding his sword aloft, "If truly you survived the mines of Morgoth...... show me your scars from your lashes!"

And Macilon laid bare his chest. The scars had whitened across the centuries, but they remained. The sun reflected on their lines of tissue.

Cellindien glanced to the side at Macil, watching for his reaction.

Macil's eyes grew wide, "Nay. You are not flesh and blood. You deceive us. Any spirit can pretend to have wounds, or be wounded, or be in pain. Watch, my love, I will run him through!"

"No wait!" Yucalwe shouted. "Stay thy blade. Answer his question. Where is the artifact? Everyone, empty your sacks!"

They all emptied their belongings in the grove. The artifact was not among them.

"Search the grounds, if you like!" Macilon barked. "You will find the artifact is a mile to the north, not hither."

Macil tightened his grip on his sword, "What do you think, my love?"

She shook her head, uncertain. "I do not recall him, from before. I cannot speak to the resemblance."

Cellindien raised her voice towards Macilon. "Elf or spectre, you laugh where you should show respect. If you have trailed us, you know why we are wary. Have a care."

Macilon smiled, "So this is she..... at long last. You never introduced me to her, in Gondolin, Rostor. You wanted to protect her from me, I doubt it not. My Lady, not only did I trail you, but I dwelt in the Houses of Auruiron and Rostoriel for centuries, without you or anyone realizing it. I served, I brought wine, and took wine away. I did it willingly, to protect you. And.... I watched over you, as you crossed Eriador."

Lerinon turned to Inheroth, "Gwador, you heard me tell tale of my dream during this past month. What do you think of him?"

Malfinseron balked, "He drowned me in the sea in my mind, I know that much."

Findistedis put a finger to his lips.

Inheroth gazed upon Macilon, having known naught of the Elf until the visions had started. He percieved little from the ancient Elf's face, and wondered as to what little he knew of his origins. When he spoke, it was with much hesitation. "That he has tricked many of you sits not well with me, yet I think that if he wished you ill, he had many opportunities to harm you. He has not. I do not think this should earn him immediate trust, yet perhaps we should heed his words for now, and judge them by whatever actions he chooses to make next."

Limdor had followed Yucalwe from a distance. Now, he came forward, "Excuse me..... but having been present in Caras Galadhon, I am keen to sense the differences between that which is within our minds, and that which is within our sight. I have watched the Lord and Lady many times from afar. At times, I have felt as if I could hear her illustrious voice inside my head. At others, I did not. The Lady would know.... perhaps we should lead him to her. But that would prove perilous, it would seem, for one such as him."

With that, Limdor strode over to Macilon and squeezed his arm hard. Macilon made unpleasant faces and flexed his muscles.

Limdor laughed, "Oh, he is real. My senses are keen in the wilds. If I strayed into a vision, I would have felt my mind straying. There is no dream here. Only the winds from across the river."

Yucalwe smirked, "Thank you, Avarim. Are you not satisfied, Macil?"

Macil slowly relaxed his grip on his sword, "Nearly...... tell me, Macilon. How did you really survive that fall?"

Macilon nodded, "I fell only one story. Enough to kill an Elf, but you missed the part where I landed on a haystack and rolled off. I had several broken bones, but the healers healed me, as you have likely heard."

Macil muttered angrily, "He must have landed there when I was running down the stairs." Macil dropped his sword, turning to Cellindien, "Alright, my love. Apparently Yucalwe was right."

She met him with a raised eyebrow, sword still at the ready, then shook her head.

Macilon smiled, "Oh. As a servant in Lady Rostoriel's House, I once sneaked a look at your manuscript, Macil, entitled 'Rostor i Finlos.' The 'final breath' of mine was only so in your presence."

Macil tried to laugh, "I do not know whether I ought to kinslay you or embrace you. You dogged my steps for thousands of years, made me think that I was hallucinating, and now you expect me to forget about it all, just like that? My love is right, you need to show some more respect."

Lerinon whispered in Inheroth's ear, "You better intervene. Macil looks fairly unstable now...."
Edited by Ioristion, May 31 2016, 10:39 AM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XXIII: Intervention

But it was Cellindien who stepped in front of Macil, glaring. "More respect? Begin with some, for you have none! You are alive, but others are not!"

Inheroth spoke softly, raising his hands. "Do not spill Elvish blood, Macil, not here, nor anywhere else upon Arda. You would curse not only yourself, but your companions and friends. It would come to nothing, this vengeance." He sighed, weary. "We must make peace today. Please, Cellindien."

"I did not kill your father. Were you not paying attention?" Macilon balked.

"He is dead, nonetheless! You behave as a spoiled child, prancing out of hiding! And peace? When have we ever had peace? When has this company ever had peace?"

Macil grabbed his sword again, "Once a Mole, always a Mole. If you were truly clever, you would have maintained your ruse, Macilon. I ought to strip myself of that name and be Rostor anew."

Inheroth raised his voice in protest, "If we do not broker in now, when? How many days must we spend in dissonance?"

Lerinon raised his voice, "WAIT! All of you. Hearken to me! He may have led us through visions, but they were not his lies. They were from our own thoughts, our own imaginations! And through all this, he led us to our deepest desires, and greatest fears. And he is right! The Enemy will likely use these against us. We must end this dissonance now. Somewhere, across that river, Guldrambor laughs and mocks at us. He would relish this discord, oh he would dine on it! Macil, Cellindien, hearken to me. I can see that your love is now renewed. But must love turn so quick to vengeance? We have far more terrible foes to fight. Dark clouds rise on the horizon, a Dawnless sky threatening to forever silence the light of day. Whatever Macilon has done...... I forgive him now."

Inheroth watched Lerinon in quiet awe, his own voice silenced. Slowly he nodded, and his heart filled with pride for his brother, for such strong convictions masked the sorrow that had too oft marred his features of late.

Macil turned to Cellindien, "Perhaps they are right....... he was my friend once, after all......." It pained Macil to admit it.

Unfortunately, it was lost on Cellindien, and she scoffed. "Even if we should forgive him for the past, I fear his attitude will not change. Look, how he stands! How he laughs at what he has done. Is this truly one we wish to welcome into our company? A skulker? I forgave my father! But he at least showed recognition for the pain he had caused."

Macilon nodded, "And what pain have I caused?"

"You have knowingly allowed us to believe falsehoods, to suffer fear, hold false trusts. Your death was mourned... as I mourned Rostor. But Macil returned, and returned with honesty. You have hidden, when your return could have brought joy."

Macilon nodded, "And do you not think that I longed to reveal myself? To reveal all, at once? The Maia who commanded me forbade it to this moment. Uireb is his name, he, the brother of Amanuiron.... of Guldrambor. He came with the Host of the West in the War of Wrath, and told me cryptic lines concerning my future.... concerning what I may or may not do, until the time had come. This being must have had the gift of foresight. He told me that I would be greatly tempted, but that if I interfered, at the wrong places and times, that all would be lost. You may not believe me, and I would not blame you..... but it is so."

Lerinon spoke-up, "And Noldorin pride questioned and disobeyed the Powers. And look where that disobedience has brought our House."

Even Auruiron could not disagree, as he nodded sadly, with Melimwe nodding at his side. Macilon gazed at Cellindien intently.

Macil kept his mouth shut. He did not want to lose his betrothal again over such a quarrel.

She looked around her, then shook her head. "I accepted the tales of cloaks, of artifacts, of maiar. Now it seems they were falsehoods. Perhaps this is the same, perhaps it is not. You must forgive me if I am not so quick to trust as our Avarim friend. Forgive me, Macil," she added, softer and turned to go.

Macil nodded, "The cloaks were not falsehoods, my love. And in the midst of my dreams...... there was some form of truth. Regardless, I follow you, as I pledged to." He turned to go with her. Macil admitted to himself that the dream was right: he had desired a far younger Finlos, a childish idol of a life long-past. In recognizing it, he forsook it, and in forsaking it, found truer love with the real Cellindien. But he still feared Macilon and any mischief that he might wrought.

She smiled sadly, holding out a hand to stop him. "No, remain with the company. I do not abandon my post or duty... but I must walk for a time. My love..." The words still felt perilous, but she spoke them firmly. "I will return. There is no need to follow now."

Macil nodded, "Very well. Be safe." With that, Macil marched up to Macilon and seized him by the collar, "And if any harm should come to her, I'll..........."

Lerinon whispered, "Inheroth, I feel weak. Stop him!"

Cellindien had already turned. "Macil!"

Inheroth moved, breaking the distance between them in several strides. He lay a gentle but firm hand on Macil's arm, ready to pull him away.

A slight hint of amusement flickered in her eyes despite everything, and she gestured. "Perhaps... it would be better if you came, after all......"

Macil turned to look at her, and gradually, relented, relaxing his grip. He turned at Macilon sharply, "You are the servant of a traitor. Nothing will change that fact. You may journey with us, but beware, murderer of Gondolin. My eyes are watching you." Macil pointed at Macilon as he retreated, tossing his head, and stomped away, his cloak flaring behind him, as he returned to Cellindien's side.

Inheroth watched him go warily.

"He is even prettier when he is angry," Macilon muttered quietly. "And he did not even thank me for all that game I hunted for him during his years of wandering."

Lerinon overheard Macilon, "You do see their side of it, do you not?"

Macilon nodded sadly, "It is not my fault that I was commanded to keep silent. It tore at me for nearly two Ages of this world. But it always did my heart good to see that Macil was safe.... as well as the rest of you."

Lerinon nodded, "I do not believe that you are fell or evil. But evil mars nonetheless. Tell me, what is thine greatest desire and most terrible fear?"

Macilon frowned, "The Maia Uireb showed me long ago. For the former: to rule Gondolin as a just ruler, to undo everything that I had done by virtue of my service to Maeglin's fallen House. As to the latter: death and being condemned by the Powers, never to walk the Earth again."

Celebressel came over and took his hand, "You have terrified me. But I forgive you for it. I...... needed to face what was hidden deep inside of me. My exile from Caras Galadhon is justly deserved."

And Alcano knelt before Macilon, "Let me serve you. My 'noble ancestor' and 'noble aunt' are blind. I love them dearly..... but they do not see........ they are blinded to what you have become. They think you are Macilon the Traitor, who fought Rostor to the death on the city-walls. But I see Macilon the Savior..... you came to forewarn us and save us from ourselves."

Macilon smiled, "You are taking it too far, Sapling. I am no savior. Nor can I save you from yourselves. Only -you- can do that. I am merely a Maia's unfortunate messenger, lost to the ages."

Alcano smirked at the term, "I think I remember you now. I have known your face all along! How many times did you bring me and my Lady-Mother wine?"

"Countless," Macilon tried to laugh.

Alcano tackle-hugged Macilon, "You are no traitor. You.....you are a hero....... you served us all for centuries, and did not even let us know it was you...... you kept us alive, many of us...... without us knowing of it.........and now, with the time having come, how brave it was for you........... you probably knew how they would react, did you not?"

Macilon laughed, returning the embrace, "I knew........ but do not cling to me too closely, grandson of the Prince of Gold. I remain perilous........"

Alcano withdrew his embrace, nodding, but still clearly not persuaded by the warning.

Lerinon turned to Inheroth, "Well, I suppose that will have to conclude the dramatics, for now..... but what can we do about this lingering dissonance?"

Inheroth shook his head slowly. "I know not. These are old wounds and discords that seem simply to require....time to mend. There is little else we can offer, and nothing more to say."

Lerinon turned to Macilon, clearing his throat, "I will advise you.... to refrain from creating visions....."

Macilon shook his head, "Were you not listening? I did not create them! The augmentations of the West did, through the cloaks and the artifact."

Lerinon nodded, "Cellindien never saw any visions of late, and I judge she has misinterpreted her older vision of Rostor in the West. Macil only saw -you,- and that has clearly unnerved him. He saw Gondolin ablaze and witnessed Aegnil's death as well. He told me all about it. So, he, at the least, appears to understand the principles that were being employed. But he still despises you for not revealing yourself earlier, even though it would have been against a Maia's command. Can you truly blame him? But I understand that the dreams are not lies. Long did I imagine.... myself as a Doriathrim King. Macilon, you did not lie, and nor did the artifact. It truly existed in my thoughts.......... and so did my worst fear: that Thranduil would kinslay me if he ever saw me again. This, too, existed in my mind, long before I clutched that jewel. So, you tell me, Inheroth. Was it truth or lies?"
Edited by Ioristion, May 23 2016, 10:00 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XXIV: Of Truths and Lies of the Mind

"Truth is subjective," Inheroth replied quietly to his brother's inquiry. "If such things our true to ourselves, wherein does the lie lie?" He smiled despite himself at the strange cadence of his words.

Lerinon smiled, "Some truths are truer than others. I am tired, gwador, tired of all this bantering."

Auruiron and the others had listened to them patiently.

Lerinon nodded sadly, "Ada...... when will we leave the Golden Wood behind us?"

"As soon as we are packed and laden with provisions," Auruiron replied.

Limdor bowed, "I will see to that at once, my Lord." He wandered off.

Yucalwe nodded, "I will assist them." He leaned-over and whispered in Alcano's ear, "You tread on perilous paths. Be wary, Sapling." Then Yucalwe stormed out of the glade.

The others all quietly and quickly dispersed, leaving Inheroth, Lerinon, Macilon, Alcano, and Celebressel alone in the glade.

Lerinon gazed at Alcano and Celebressel warily, "And you two. This ban applies to you as well. Stay away from visions and other terrors. I will not see my nephew and new niece ruined by shadows. You should go, rejoin the others. I would have words with Macilon and your uncle Inheroth."

Alcano gave a worried glance in Macilon's direction. Then Alcano and Celebressel swiftly left the glade, following Malfinseron and Findistedis.

Lerinon stared-down Macilon, "Now....... we shall determine the truth. You had said that you were going to hide thy cloak, but you brought it with you in the sack, when you thought otherwise. I saw it slung over your shoulder. I can guess. Bring it forth."

Macilon stared hesitently, "I...."

Lerinon said it again, "Bring it forth."

Inheroth watched Macilon, giving no voice to his doubts regarding the Elf, his eyes but slightly narrowed.

Macilon obeyed. The cloak had a certain gleam, stronger than that of Yucalwe's, though it was similar.

Lerinon commanded, "Step to the left of Inheroth."

Macilon obeyed.

"Now Inheroth," Lerinon commanded. "Clutch a fold of my golden cloak, and tell me: does it feel like it did in your home in King Thranduil's Halls, that old feeling of grace wedded to beauty, peace and healing, serenity, that washes-over you?"

Inheroth obeyed immediately, his reaching up to take the gentle folds between his reverent fingers. He closed his eyes, and smiled, nodding once. "It is there...fainter, but there nonetheless."

And Lerinon commanded, "Now grasp some of Macilon's folds, and tell us how you feel."

After a moment of hesitance, Inheroth took hold of Macilon's cloak, touching but the barest corner. He frowned, and closed his eyes, and marvelled that he felt at once calmed. "It is different," he admitted finally, "but I feel no ill intent."

Lerinon nodded, sighing, "Different? How so?"

Inheroth furrowed his brow, considering his next words at length. "I feel peace...though it is not as peaceful...I feel beauty, though it seems unsure of itself...and love as well, though there is regret there as well." He stirred, and glanced at Lerinon. "What does that mean? Could the one that bear it change it at all, or is it my own doubts that cast such feelings upon me?"

Lerinon stepped toward Macilon and touch his folds, "I feel it too........ but it feels as peaceful, as beautiful, and I feel love....... and yet it does not. Not as peaceful, for its maker wars with his fallen brother. Beautiful, yet unsure...... perhaps this Maia fears his fallen brother's vanity. Love, and yet regret..... perhaps this Maia regrets something that may have led to his brother's downfall."

"How did you guess?" Macilon gazed at him curiously.

Inheroth let his hands fall to his side, and canted his head, curiously.

Lerinon smiled, "If my brother had fallen, I would regret it. If I was at war with my brother, I would not feel so peaceful. If my brother feigned beauty, I would be unsure as to how to present my own."

Macilon smiled, "You have learned much from your vision."

Lerinon nodded, "I...I suppose I have. Let me try something." He touched his golden cloak to the red and black silk of Macilon's. "I.... I feel reassurance. Peace wells deeper. Love grows stronger. Beauty grows brighter."

Macilon's eyes grew wide, "I feel it. But my dear Lerinon, I fear that you have misread the signs. It was my regret for not being able to reveal myself, and for my treachery, my beauty is less certain than it used to be, and the dissonance between myself and Macil..... is why my sense of peace is weaker. You have felt me."

Lerinon smiled, "Come, then. Let us rest here awhile, and drape both our cloaks atop the three of us. We must rest and have much to contemplate. Who knows? We may learn how to bring peace between you and Macil and Cellindien."

Macilon nodded and sat down on the hillside, and Lerinon did likewise.

Inheroth settled upon the ground.

Macilon outspread his cape, its red lining falling onto their laps and spreading across their shoulders, the sparking darkness resting atop them. Then Lerinon outspread the gold.

Inheroth layered both over his legs, resting himself comfortably and letting loose a great sigh.

Waves of peace lapped throughout their minds, hearts, and fea'r, gently, as if they flowed onto the shores of the sea. They closed their eyes and did not dream.
Edited by Ioristion, May 23 2016, 10:55 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XXV: The Hidden Pact

Macilon and Lerinon awoke. Inheroth was still asleep. Macilon whispered, “Take your cloak and follow me...” Lerinon did not know why, but he obeyed, dismissing his initial reluctance. Neither of them spoke. They ascended the hill and climbed down into an adjacent glade. The sun was shining brightly through the mallorn trees. The golden haze was strong upon their eyes. The wind billowed, flipping Macilon’s long strands of raven hair, as well as that of Lerinon. Their cloaks whipped and furled behind them, streams of red and black and gold. Lerinon felt entranced as he hazed into Macilon’s eyes.

Macilon folded several folds of his cape onto his arm. He gestured for Lerinon to do the same. Lerinon obeyed. Then Macilon extended his hand. Lerinon took it.

Macilon declared, “This pact.... will I make with you.....”

Lerinon muttered, “What pact?”

Macilon nodded, “I feel appointed to make it... as has been foretold. I did not know that you would be the one. I often thought that Macil would be.”

Lerinon gazed at him confused, “The one? To do what?”

Macilon smiled, “Allow me to embrace you, and I will explain.... carefully.....”

Lerinon nodded.

Macilon swept his cape around Lerinon, embracing him, covering both their heads with it, and Lerinon gazed into the reddish, dark shadows pierced by a million pores of light. And Macilon proceeded to whisper to him.

When Macilon withdrew, Lerinon stared at him, dazed. His mind was overwhelmed. And then Macilon deeply kissed him on his cheeks. Lerinon was startled, and even more so, that he found himself gently returning the gesture.

“You should return to Inheroth,” Macilon declared finally. “I feel there are four more to whom this secret must be entrusted.”

“And may I speak of this to Inheroth?” Lerinon asked reluctantly.

“No,” Macilon replied. “It is forbidden. Only six can know, and only four can learn at once.”

“You speak in cryptic words,” Lerinon noted.

“Such are the true ways of the West,” Macilon replied. “Return to Inheroth and rest beside him once more.”

Lerinon nodded. He found Inheroth sleeping as before. He rested down beside him, and gently cloaked them both, without waking him up. Then, Lerinon passed back into a gentle sleep, as if all of it were naught but a passing dream.
Edited by Ioristion, May 25 2016, 05:20 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XXVI: The Founding Four

Celebressel giggled in the glade, “Oh you! Alcano, you do not know what you are doing!”

Alcano was cape-dancing.

Celebressel laughed, “Come and rest beside me again, my love. You must be tired from all that dancing.”

And Alcano obeyed her.

Malfinseron and Findistedis were resting beside each other already. They were not kissing as frantically as they had kissed in earlier gatherings in the glade.

Alcano pointed as he sat down on the hillside, “Look!”

A dark figure was approaching them, his youthful, elderly faced masked by his dark hood. He was the only dark thing moving in that glade in the Golden Wood.

“Who approaches?” Alcano interrogated.

Macilon’s face smiled from beneath the hood, “Tell me..... what has Macil told you of me?”

And Alcano reminded Macilon of Macil’s visitations, as Rostor, in Gondolin.

Macilon smiled, “And do you believe in my intentions?”

Both Alcano and Celebressel nodded.

Malfinseron stood, folding his cloak around his arms as if vast sleeves, “Tell me.....”

“Ah, the diplomat,” Macilon smirked.

Malfinseron stared him down, not amused, “Why -did- you hide from everyone throughout all this time? And if you served Auruiron’s House, then were you not sneaking into Mithlond, blending-in among the citizens at market?”

Macilon nodded, “Indeed, I was.”

Malfinseron laughed, “Sorcerer! I name thee. Loath-spell. Accursed.”

Macilon smiled, “Cursed I may be. But a Sorcerer? My powers are not mine own......but of the West.”

“And what proof have you?” Findistedis arose.

“You have taken the words right from my mind,” Malfinseron smiled in reverence of his wife.

Macilon smirked, “Come unto my cape of dreams... and I will show thee...”

“Oh no!” Malfinseron balked. “No, I will not let you drown me again at sea!”

“I promise thee that I will not,” Macilon retorted. “For only the West can produce the dreams when they are appointed to be produced, and they will only come from thine own minds, thine own innermost thoughts. The visions come from thine imaginations or from thine memories, nothing more and nothing less.”

Findistedis nodded, “On second thought, forget the proof. I would prefer if our minds remained hinged for once.”

Malfinseron nodded in agreement.

Macilon smiled, “Come unto my cape in any case. For there is something that I must share with all four of you.”

Alcano nodded, kneeling before him, “I kneel before you, as Rostor, long centuries ago.”

Macilon outspread his cape, his red folds illuminated by the golden haze around them all, shining as if a fiery star, “Come then, scion of Rostor’s bloodline.”

Macilon and Alcano and Celebressel swiftly embraced each other, burying their faces in the folds. Macilon opened his other cluster of folds with his right arm and hand, and Malfinseron and Findistedis reluctantly entered into it. The four of them stood embracing him, feeling his heart as it pulsed in his chest. Macilon began to whisper to them.

All four of them withdrew from the embrace, their minds dazed in shock. They nestled themselves along the hillside, all resting beneath Macilon’s vast cape.

In time, Alcano smiled, “Dance for us, Lord Macilon.”

“As Rostor danced of old?” Macilon smirked.

Alcano nodded.

And Macilon danced, a living symphony of gold, red, and black, shining fibers of silk, glistening, his raven hair flipping and flowing as he danced. He shifted and twirled his cloak as Rostor Macil did of old.

Then Alcano and the others joined him. They danced beneath the sun and golden leaves of the mallorn trees. They danced in what they knew might be their final moments of innocence. They danced, symphonic images, of twirling azure blue and bright silver, shining white, fiery, red and glistening black, all within the golden haze. Macilon, for once, left his memories behind, even as he reenacted them. Then they all returned to the hillside and rested beneath the cloak once more.

But the peace that Alcano felt reminded him of the peace that he had felt when he had rested with Cellindien in the Vale of Imladris, a long time ago. And that thought saddened him. He wondered if Cellindien felt betrayed. He thought of Macil. His pain worsened. But then, Macilon kissed him on the cheeks, and Alcano returned them, and lost himself in the moment, his pain temporarily vanishing before his eyes.

Then they fell asleep, and dreamed what would be their last shared vision for a long time. They would wake from it in awe, and they would not speak of it, until far later. And the Four awoke in awe beneath the red, fiery folds of Macilon, glistening in the sunlight. They upheld Macilon's cloak as they processed throughout the glade, treating him as if he were a Prince again, as Rostor once did of old. But when they turned to leave the glade, they packed their capes in their packs, and slung them on their backs, preparing themselves for the approaching journey.
Edited by Ioristion, May 25 2016, 02:54 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XXVII: Departing Lorien

Eldrand and his four followers had sustained themselves on lembas that Melimwe carted-off to him a few miles north of the Golden Wood. The Beornings were suspicious of the Wood and refused to enter, knowing the tales of the Elf Witch. They did not fear Auruiron or Thranduil's folk, but they feared the Lady, and the arrows of the Galadhrim that might mistake them for wild bears after their transformations. The Skin-Changers and the Galadhrim did not get along well. They kept to themselves most of the time. It was not even the Elves themselves whom they feared most. They feared the magic of the Lady.

Auruiron had not revealed the artifact to Eldrand or his folk. He and Melimwe kept its powers well-hidden from the Beornings, who could turn on them in a moment's instance if they realized the truth. Beornings seldom dreamed, and if they ever dreamed, they would have dreamed of running in the fields and forests at night, on all fours. The artifact might even be capable of destroying their minds. This, Melimwe understood, after probing Eldrand on his fears concerning Lothlorien. They even refused at first to take the lembas, but they ran out of wild berries in the area, and they were loathe to kill or eat any game. Melimwe had sternly ordered Cullasson, Cullastor, and the other hunters, to avoid hunting for bears, lest they incur the wrath of the Beornings.

Aertira, Salhera, Beornor, and Mornhelm were Eldrand's companions: two Beorning women and three Beorning men altogether. The rest of their kin wanted little to do with them as soon as they had allied themselves with the Elves. It was for this real reason that Eldrand, despite his excuses, was unable to lead his followers back to Grimbeorn's Lodge so easily. Aertira was fair and rustic, with long golden-brown hair. Salhera was beautiful, wild and free, similar in appearance to Aertira, faint curves in their facial lines distinguishing them from each other. Beornor was older and stronger, nearly a half-giant in size, with dark hair and a long dark beard. Mornhelm was young, his hair golden-brown, flowing and wild. Eldrand himself was eldest of them all, his face rigid with wrinkles, and hale and strong. All of them had glistening brown eyes, wearing their bright furs. Their furs were skinned from bears who had been slain by woodsmen, who had not been slain by the Beornings. The Beornings were angered by the deaths of any animals needlessly, and especially bears. They would use the furs, not as trophies, but as physical epitaphs for the fallen beasts of the wilderness. They also wore them in acknowledgement of their own deaths to come, whether by the sword, the axe, the arrow, the bite of winter, the cruel churning of starvation, or by elderly age itself, as Beorn had died long ago.

The lembas was wrapped in fair mallorn leaves. Sacks were filled, and pack-horses were laden, and they filled their flasks at the Anduin. Since Beornings and Elves had combined forces, they deemed it wise to conserve what Miruvior remained in their possession. They would need it crossing Mirkwood. Auruiron's followers had enjoyed themselves during the past few months in the Golden Wood. They, too, had rested in glades. They had all remained in the northeastern part of the Golden Wood, per Auruiron and Limdor's orders. Most of Auruiron's stories were not secrets to them. Husbands hunted only the game that Limdor allowed them to hunt. Wives mended torn clothes and gathered healing herbs for the journey. Some sons hunted with their fathers, and some daughters aided in the herb-gathering. Others made love. The weddings of Malfinseron and Alcano were not the only weddings. Pledges were made, and vows were taken. Limdor wanted to persuade others to join their Company, but Auruiron forbade it: Lorien would need its own armies in the wars to come. Auruiron wanted to minimize his influence among the remaining Elves. He believed that their force could handle anything that came at them.

Yucalwe, Saelbainor, Melimwe, and Inheroth plotted their course precisely. They would proceed directly through Mirkwood, following Inheroth's paths, and avoid Dol Guldor. They would not cross south of the forest, for that was a wasteland, and that cursed road was ordained for others. They would seek-out Inheroth's allies, and hope that Thranduil would not discover them.

Their preparations were finished on the 26th of February. And something fell occurred. The dark clouds above Mirkwood began to flow westward, as its brother-storm proceeded across Gondor in the south. As flames arose from Orodruin, and blue fell fire from Minas Morgul, a dark shadow arose above Dol Guldor upon Amon Lanc. Auruiron was terrified: they risked fighting with the forces of the Necromancer.

And so the pass directly eastward into Mirkwood was barred against them.
Edited by Ioristion, May 25 2016, 06:20 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter XXVIII: Stern Advice

Eldrand demanded, "We did our part. We stayed. We could've come-in and frolickin' among 'em woods, but no. We are Beornings. We do not take such mirth. And besides. We don't like that Witch in 'em woods. We fear her. We fear her powers. We saw that haze over that wood. It would've made us soft. That's when the arrows get us. No, you couldn't have protected us from her. You couldn't even have saved yerselves. It took courage for you to dwell there beneath 'em cursed trees. Aye, we disagree. So be it then. But heed this here advice: we'll follow ye to the ends of the earth if we have to, but steer us clear of that dark fortress yonder."

Melimwe nodded, "And the spiders?"

Eldrand laughed heartily, "We'll rip 'em webs to shreds with our claws."

Melimwe bowed, "You... have given-up much....."

Eldrand nodded, "We did. If you want to hear the truth, hear it now: our kin have banished us. Took too many honey-cakes. They don't like you. They warned us. We told 'em it would be bad blood to betray ye. So they betrayed us. They told us to take you folk and go, far away from the Carrock. Have you ever been on the Carrock at sunrise? Now that's a pretty sight. Oh well, it's over now. It's all over. You have us. And we ain't goin' back."

Melimwe shuddered, "That was cruel of them......"

Eldrand nodded, "It wasn't old Grimbeorn. We didn't even get to talk to him. It was his son-in-law who did it for him. We Beornings are distrustful folk. Now your arrival's turned our kin against each other. And the Orcs began attackin,' from what the message that the thrush sent us."

Melimwe nodded, "Should we.... go back and save your kin from them?"

Eldrand spat, "Truth, sir, was that the son-in-law wants Grimbeorn's seat when Grimbeorn passes away, he doesn't want me, his cousin, gettin' it by blood-right. But there are many innocent folk. Ye got yer provisions now. Let's head north back to the Old Ford. If we're under attack, we can't abandon our kin with honor."

Melimwe nodded sadly, "I am sorrowful for all of this......."

Eldrand raised his hand, "No! Don't....... Me thinks an Orc army's going to head this here way. Let's beat 'em to it, and get past 'em if we can."

Melimwe nodded grimly, and ordered the Host to prepare their departure from Lorien. Melimwe overruled Auruiron from speaking. He did not want Auruiron to ruin everything else.

Limdor revealed that scouts reported an army of Yrch approaching the Golden Wood. Yucalwe let it up to him and his companions to do what they will. Limdor decided that it would prove better for the Company to depart from the Golden Wood, and not risk losing soldiers to the Yrch in Lothlorien. "We have enough defenders," Limdor had balked. "And we have the Lord and Lady." He was overestimating his opponents.

Celebressel remarked, "My father will fight them. But we are not enough to challenge them and victor...... oh father!"

Alcano held her tightly, "He has many Galadhrim by his side. Have faith in him.... and them... and in the Lady....."

Melimwe sighed shortsightedly as they began to march north, "Oh... we have wasted all this time for naught, four hundred miles of marching and no progress."

Eldrand nodded, "Do not think ill of yer decision to go south. It was a long but necessary detour, and ye know it: ye needed 'em provisions, and ye needed to get away from me folk for a time. We'll be on par with the Old Ford when we reach the road."

And they pressed back north through the same route in which they had traveled. There had been a thaw in several places. They rebuilt the makeshift ford at the Gladden River and crossed it. It took them eight days to reach the Old Ford again. They encountered little danger. But they stayed away from the river now, and used the forests to conceal their passage, for battalions of Orcs now roamed the eastern fields across the river.

It was March 5th when they reached the Old Ford. There were many scorched trees across the river. The land seemed devoid of wildlife. And Eldrand began to tear, "Oh no..... what have we done!"

They followed the river towards the Carrock as signs of devastation grew clearer and vaster.
Edited by Ioristion, May 25 2016, 06:29 PM.
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