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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. | |
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| Ioristion | Jun 11 2016, 07:28 PM Post #101 |
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Chapter XXXVIII: The Noble Ancestor Macilon gathered the Seven together again, whispered something to them all, and after their discussion was over, the secrets were not to be revealed to anyone. Macilon sighed sadly right before concluding the meeting, "It -must- be kept secret. Or it will be the ruination... of us all.........." Only Alcano remained behind. He sat down solemnly. He bade Celebressel return to their chambers and await them. Alcano's face betrayed how sober he was, "Oh Macilon...... what hope is there for us.....?" Macilon shook his head, "Not much, I am afraid. But there is enough. Why, it is naught but a flicker of a tiny candle-flame amidst a surging sea of darkness, threatening to snuff it out forever. But that tiny candle-flame is still alight..... it is not past. It had not ceased........ worry yourself for the present dangers, not of what is to come...." "Then why do you tell us, noble ancestor mine?" Macilon smirked, shaking his head, "I tell you because I have to. I am not your noble ancestor. Do you not see? The noble ancestor exists only within thine mind. I fear none of us will ever attain thine standards. But come...... rest for awhile." They deeply embraced and exchanged their kisses of affection. Then Macilon said, "Alcano... you must know our enemy's ways. His greatest terror was this: ever did he operate on the basis of good intentions. He wanted to 'reform' the world that he believed his brother and others were not reforming. Melkor had deluded his mind completely. Then he was forced to become a laughingstock among his peers in Angband. And this only fueled his desires for rebellion... for reformation. Uireb had learned all of this when the Host of the West stormed the fortress. He even encountered and fought his brother, who refused to return to the West. That is why we are here...... Guldrambor, it would seem, has ensnared many to his ranks, if Yucalwe's words be true, and I believe, for my part, they are....... I believe our foe will seek to paint -us- as some terrible Enemy, a plight upon 'his' people........ enough for now, Alcano. Run along. Thine wife awaits you." Alcano nodded, stood, bowed, and said: "If you are not a noble ancestor, than who is?" Macilon shook his head, "Run along." Then Alcano left the room without a word. |
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| Ioristion | Jun 11 2016, 09:10 PM Post #102 |
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Chapter XXXIX: King of Doriath Lerinon was resting in he and Fareon's chambers. Fareon had already scolded him: "Now, 'gwador,' you will avoid this madness this time! I will -not- be thrown into a cell again for thine stupidity!" And then Fareon left to be with saner minds. Lerinon brooded long alone, till a rapping at the door, heralded the entrance of Malchon and Calemir. They were sick of the deathly silence of Agarwaenor and felt sorry for poor Inheroth, and they did not know what to make of Fahnraen. Caranor and Amarchon remained with them to maintain their watch. Malchon knelt before Lerinon, shocking the latter: "Lerinon....... long have I admired... the thought of you.... No, this is sounding strange..... but I have often thought of you since your escape from the cells........ my brothers and I, we watched you from afar, in the Library and in the feasting Hall, before your confinement..... and we were shocked, but duly impressed, with the manner of your escape..." Lerinon sighed, "Your punishment was most unjust." Calemir knelt down as well, nodding, "We know, Lerinon..... but all of that is past us now. We are no longer watching boats row in and out, in and out, in and out.... no more. Now we are here. So this is where many of the boats were carrying goods from! All the way from here to Esgaroth to the Elven-King's Halls..... remember their wine?" Lerinon smirked, "I do.... it had quite a deleterious effect. But why are the two of you kneeling before me?" Malchon smiled, "To put it mildly, you are our King now." Lerinon shook his head, "Nay. I am no King. An ellon who would claim it so would claim it falsely." "But you are," Calemir warmly replied. "You are glorious..... far more so than Thranduil. Far more so...... Oropher might have matched you, but he is gone...... as are Dior and Elu Thingol...... and I do not know about this Silver King. While I suggest we heed Inheroth's prudence and avoid a conflict, know that you will ever be our King to us......" Lerinon was shedding joyous tears. He could scarcely believe it. Lerinon cleared his throat, "I...... am not -worthy- of your service." Malchon smirked, "You may deny it, but we are. And we are not leaving you. Come now, show us the visions that you showed Inheroth." Calemir nodded approvingly. Lerinon shook his head, "How can I? This cape.... it does not always respond....." He suddenly felt a gentle pulse. Malchon and Calemir had reached-out and covered their heads in its folds, gold gathering in the gloom, brightly. And they beheld a glimpse of downfallen Doriath, of the Silmaril, and of Dior, the King. They caught a glimpse of the carnage of the Second Kinslaying. And the vision faded. But Lerinon closed his eyes, envisioning a great Elven King, similar in appearance to Thranduil, yet nobler, taller, and wiser, robed in azure blue, silver hair flowing down his back: Oropher of Amon Lanc. The vision faded. And Malchon declared: "You are truly our King." Their eyes were glistening, adoringly, as they removed his cape from their heads. The door had been open. Macilon turned and gazed at them coldly, "Remember the dangers of thine desires." Lerinon nodded sadly. Malchon and Calemir had glimpsed Macilon from afar throughout their journey. They found him mysterious and magnificent in his mysteriousness, his dark and red cape swirling around him, his long raven-hair glistening, his eyes gleaming as if stars. They wondered at his words. They looked up. Macilon had vanished from their line of vision. Lerinon sighed, "I suppose I should tell the both of you.... I had two dreams.... in the first, I was indeed a King, a Silmaril upon my brow, and all were adoring me.... even Thranduil..... and in the other, Thranduil slew me with his sword. Oh it was terrible. And Macilon was present in both dreams, and he foretold my death should either of them be dreamed again." Calemir stood, "Then we must discount them. You are beyond King Thranduil's grasp. We must place you in a position in which he would never harm you. And as for the former dream...... we must make it come to pass. As much of it as possible." "Yes!" Malchon stood, his heart beaming: "We must make you a real, true King, Silmaril or no Silmaril. You do not need the Silmaril. But we could attempt to capture its light in a phial somehow..... and place it upon your brow. Then you will truly be magnificent!" Lerinon laughed, clasping them on their shoulders, "Do you really think so?" Calemir bowed, "I know so...... my Lord......" Lerinon frowned, "But how will this be?" Malchon's smile faded, "We must meet this Silver King and learn everything we can about these lands. Who can tell? Maybe there is a King-less Elven realm out here someplace.... for certainly, Dorwinion cannot be the only one east of Mirkwood....." Lerinon nodded reluctantly: Macilon's words biting at his fea. Edited by Ioristion, Jun 11 2016, 10:02 PM.
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| Ioristion | Jun 12 2016, 04:51 PM Post #103 |
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Chapter XL: The Window on the East Malfinseron gazed solemnly at the shifting crystalline waters of the lagoon that stretched outward into the larger Sea of Rhun. The gulls sang and Malfinseron never felt so strange, for in this Haven, there was no port, no messengers running to and fro among the quays, no quays or harbor masters or drafters, no tall towers with heightened spires, no lighthouses, and while there were under-cave ports for small boats, these docks were reserved for the fisherelves, who supplied the realm with seaside food: mackerel and sword-fish and sharks. There were no explanations for these beasts in an inland salty sea, other than to assume that it was once part of a far larger sea, and Malfinseron began to ponder: Maybe this truly was Cuivienen of old..... maybe this is all that remains of the Sea of Helcar. Malfinseron, by now, had already visited the undercaves with their docks, Findistedis walking silently beside him as if some ancient Elvish princess, regally with a light-footed step and a sweep of her silvery dress and cape, flowing behind her on the damp, wet, floors of the undercaves nigh the sea. But now they were in a guest-chamber with a great window overlooking the East, with a strong over-hang and rocky pillars to prevent Easterling sailors from outright spotting it or any of the other windows that were carefully disguised by Elven rock-carvers who had dangled on precarious ropes hung down from the top of the plateau. Their skill was masterful. The undercaves also served as ports for trade with the Edain who lived nearby. Malfinseron turned to Findistedis, radiant as ever, "Can you believe that we are here?" Findistedis shook her head, "I have never seen a sea before, and certainly not an inland one. It is strange..... I hope to see Belegaer someday." "You will," Malfinseron nodded, "One day, you will. But let us hope that day will not come soon. It is beautiful to gaze at a sea without fears or thoughts of the West for once. There is no Straight Road within this sea." By now, Alcano and Celebressel had joined them. Celebressel closed her eyes, "Standing on this very shore, so strange...... I foresaw it, that we would be wed....I foresaw nothing more beyond this....." They held each others' gazes throughout the long sorrowful moments. Alcano and Malfinseron both kissed their wives deeply, their hearts throbbing, as Celebressel and Findistedis shed gentle tears amidst the warm, wet kissing. A gentle breeze flowed through the chamber, and with their silks, gently flowing. Then they deeply embraced each other. After what had seemed an eternity of closeness, Malfinseron nodded, "Yes.................... Macilon told us everything. But what can we do? How can we face such a terrible task? It has never been done before! Melkor's so-called 'repentance' was all a fiction, a terrible web of lies, from everything that I have heard." Alcano nodded sorrowfully, "He did lie. But remember the tools we have received." Malfinseron was fingering the azure folds of his cape, nodding. He gazed at the inter-merging waters of the sea again, the sun shining upon them, "Lord Cirdan once dwelt upon these shores...... ships were built and this sea was crossed, by our kindred long ago........ Nandor in Edhellond, Silvan in Lorien, Teleri in the Falas, now Lindon........ we have a long tradition. I wonder if the ruins of those very ships now sit nestled in the sands beneath this sea......" Alcano gazed at the bright sea, "I would imagine that they are, if the wood has not rotted completely." Malfinseron nodded, "To think, my kindred were once here............" Celebressel smiled, "Long are our migrations, settling throughout this world. Come, the embassy will be held soon. We must appear our best." They chuckled lightly, nodding at each other. It would not be long... Edited by Ioristion, Jul 26 2016, 06:43 PM.
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| Inheroth | Jun 12 2016, 07:50 PM Post #104 |
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Chapter XLI: The Brothers Thinfiligon Within their chamber Inheroth watched Caranor and Amarchon thoughtfully. When they returned his gaze in unison he smiled politely, though he struggled to mask his irritation at their presence, unjust as it was. He looked over to Agarwaenor, ever scribbling onto one of his scrolls in his own secret script. Inheroth sighed, and made to stand, stretching in a very obvious manner. "Surely you two would like a few moments in peace with one another to gather your thoughts," he said to Amarchon and Caranor, clasping his hands. "I myself have been most eager to explore the caverns of our new Hosts." Amarchon looked ready to speak, and Inheroth quickly spoke an interruption. "I will bring Agarwaenor with me. Brother?" He once again faced his silver-haired sibling and cleared his throat forcefully. "Put down your scroll, please; let us go for a walk. If Lerinon comes looking for me, Caranor...would you be so kind to inform him that we have merely gone for a short walk? I thank you." And with that he strode over to Agarwaenor and plucked the parchment he was writing upon away, and tugged on his arm. Caranor and Amarchon could only blink at the pair in confusion, but they remained silent, ever wary of Agarwaenor's fickle moods. The scratching of Agarwaenor's quill abruptly halted as the parchment was taken, filling the room with a startling silence in its absence. The pale Elf stared upwards, meeting his brother's gaze. His eyes were cold, the fiery anger that had once held them now subsided and replaced with a strange and stoic calm. His eyes moved briefly to Caranor and Amarchon, regarding them with the icey demeanor they had come to expect. Slow, he stood, and the quill was placed carefully in its case and tucked away. "As you say," he declared softly, in that gentle tone he reserved only for times of stern severity. Once outside their chamber, its oaken door closed firmly behind them, Inheroth began to lead them down one of the many dimly lit caverns, no direction in mind but to put space between them and any prying ears. Agarwaenor's arm snugly folded in his own, he chatted lightly. "Isn't it strange how so many of our peoples choose to live underground?" he asked with practiced ease, even as his eyes scanned for a hidden crevice where they could speak in private. They passed several Dorwinion elves who stared at them, but they were not stopped. Finally Inheroth brought them to a stop; they were at the edge of a small underground stream, and the bubbling waters would serve to mask the sound of their voices, if they kept them low enough. Releasing his brother, Inheroth turned to him and fell silent for some moments. "They are terrified of you, those guards," he said suddenly, without preamble. "Is there any way...Agarwaenor, you must find some compromise. I know you believe this journey to be an utter mistake, but they are to be our companions for some time. Lerinon and Fareon included." Agarwaenor remained silent for a while, and simply stared into the running waters, and their dim reflections. When he did speak, it was so quiet, so soft, that the stream seemed a roaring waterfall in comparison. "Compromise," he repeated. "Is that what you call this?" He cast his eyes to Inheroth, but instead of burning fury, or frozen scorn, there was only a gentle sadness. "Tell me, beloved brother, what compromise? What choice was I given, that could have been bartered?" If Agarwaenor could muster no anger, Inheroth more than made up for it; his face twisted and his eyes blazed with it. "You chose to come with me! Is that not enough? We were in the midst of battle, and I asked you for your aid! Why is that not..." he turned away, his voice falling away into a violent silence. "It is never enough," he said at last. "I shall always be the fool, and you the wiser. Is that it?" The crimson-clad Elf sighed mutely, and lowered his gaze once more to the waters. "You are no fool. If you were, I would... resign myself to accept whatever fate you chose for yourself. I would have sent you away empty-handed, with nary a goodbye." He turned, and in his severity and sadness, how it aged him, he was the mirror of their father. "I have only two precious things in this world. The oath I made to King Oropher, and my brother. Now, I have broken one, and I fear..." He casts a look down the path they had trod. "Now I fear I shall lose you also, to this madness." "It is not madness!" Inheroth whispered fiercely. "It is not. Perhaps...you mistake me. You think that I follow Lerinon like a blind man, but it is not true. I love him yes, as I love you, but I am not so simple minded that I cannot see the flaws or weaknesses in a plan. And it is not just for his sake that I do this. See you not the size of this company? These Elves seek to defeat an evil that is larger than all of us. They are desperate and full of hope all at once, they embrace and spit foul words at each other in the same breath. But their cause is a noble one! And for the twins; do not mistake me...I..." he huffed through his nose, even as his ire seemed to fade. "I cannot explain the scope of it to you now in so short of a time." He ducked his head, his cheeks flushing. "Promise me that you will not share my next words with anyone. Swear it, Celephinion." Agarwaenor closed his eyes, and tried to summon the wisdom of Thinfiligon. What he found came as no comfort. "I swear it, muinor-nin," he said, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt a pit in his stomach grow deeper. 'What meaning do your promises hold anymore, Thurintirad?' he inwardly scolded. Inheroth nodded slowly. "Very well. I...have brought you here to this secret place to give warning. As I've said, I love Lerinon, but he is brash, and impulsive to a fault; Hallothanar, the Elf that brought us hither, has already overheard him making...postulations. His grand dream is to rule over a realm of his own in the image of his grandfather, Thingol. I fear that if the Silver King hears word of this - which he undoubtedly shall, for Hallothanar is I suspect a herald of his, much in the manner of you to Thranduil, I....well. You see the predicament, do you not?" Agarwaenor's lip stiffened, and his face tightened. He turned, suddenly unable to look upon his brother, for fear his temper would compel him to speak louder than he should. He took several deep breaths, seeking the inner peace that granted his mother tranquility in times of anger. "Lerinon," he says, the word spilling off his tongue like turned and soured wine, "is mad." "Hush!" Inheroth implored, looking over his shoulder to make certain once more that they were alone. "It matters not what you think," he said once his heart had quieted itself. "I am afraid that if the Silver King sees discord between our party, concerning Lerinon particularly, he will take the words of a...fanciful Elf as a true threat! Surely you do not think it is his true intent to steal the Silver King's crown? Nay...I know you have little love for him, Agarwaenor, but I am asking you...I beseech you, please, cast aside your doubts! Trust in me at least. Trust in Caladufaer; and make peace with your decision to follow me anon." "I have no doubts," Agarwaenor declared slowly, the words forming carefully on his tongue. "Lerinon is mad. His delusions will not end in Rhun. And so, I will remain by your side, and shall never abandon it, for there is no doubt in my mind that you place yourself in peril by casting aside your own doubts." He approached Inheroth, and placed his hand delicately on his brother's shoulder. "Brother, what becomes of us after this? What if this would-be King takes you away from me?" Inheroth stared into Agarwaenor's face, bewildered. "That would not happen. It will not. Do you understand me?" He gathered Agarweanor in a fierce embrace. "Entertain no such thoughts. My love for Lerinon does not divide us. Nothing will, nothing shall. This I promise to you." Agarwaenor returned the embrace, his slender arms summoning more strength than they showed. He closed his eyes tightly, attempting to stem the oncoming tide of tears. Then, he held his brother at arm's length, and admired him as if for the first time. "I see the end of us, Calad. I have broken my sacred oath. I fear a day comes that you too will have to break yours, either to me, or to Lerinon." Inheroth balked. "Do not say such things, Celephinion," he urged, his voice wavering slightly. "You speak as if the ending of the story is the only part that matters. Is it not the journey that takes up the most pages of any book? If you cannot trust in Lerinon, trust in me to whisper wisdom into his ear. I have vowed to protect him from harm; I ask only that you join me in this endeavor. Together, we may see this story to its end, and it would not be a tragic tale. Not with both of us there together to help it along." He sighed deeply, and touched the side of Agarwaenor's face; a gentle brush of his fingers. "I would have your wisdom and your trust. Please." "Besides," he added after a moment, and he cracked a wry smile; not entirely convincing. "In this ending, we get to defeat a great evil. Is that not worth it?" Agarwaenor met his smile with only a somber shake of his head. "That remains to be seen." He placed a hand on his brother's breast, and ran a finger across the brooch pinned to his cloak. "But whatever end, we shall face it together." Then, he could speak no more, and turned from Inheroth to drift down the path they had trod together. Inheroth followed Agarwaenor at his heels, greatly comforted. "Wait, brother! We should have more words concerning Caranor and Amarchon; perhaps you can be a little, ah, nicer to them?" He laughed, the sound of it ringing through the caverns. They returned to their shared room, and Inheroth smiled at the former guards. Agarwaenor stood in the doorway for a moment, meeting the apprehensive gazes of Caranor and Amarchon. Without a word, he approached his possessions, few as they were, and sorted through them. Then, brandishing a small wrapped parcel, he went to join them. "Perhaps one of you will indulge me with a game?" he asked softly, as he unwrapped and set up a small board and pieces. And Inheroth felt relief. |
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| Ioristion | Jun 12 2016, 09:54 PM Post #105 |
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Chapter XLII: The Embassy of Northeast Dorwinion The time had come for the embassy. The Elves had changed into their finery, leaving their travel-worn garb behind in their chambers. They were ushered into the great Throne Room at the heart of the complex. Its great windows overlooked the shining sea. The Throne faced the West, for the King was to gaze toward his people, and not toward the shimmering sea. His dark marble throne was propped-up on a high stair, many pillars upheld the roof beneath the caverns above the chamber, that was a wide, open, great Hall, with room for a thousand Elves to stand within at once. None of them wore their augmented capes when they entered the Hall of the Silver Throne, save one among them, against the advice of Melimwe. None could tell who that Elf was, save for a hint of gold beneath the green. Auruiron bowed gracefully, robed in silver, and the hearts of all gathered thither were in awe, as they gazed upon the lofty Throne, upon he who sat upon it. The Silver King was true to his namesake. His loftly azure velvet cloak flowed gracefully down the stairs, lined with a bright silvery gold beneath it. His eyes gleamed grey and bright. His hair was long and silver. His countenance pierced their f'ear. This was no ordinary Elven King. And at his side sat a silver harp, for the King was fond of singing. He had been singing when the Company entered, with a voice that rivaled that of Macalaure, to Auruiron's ears. Yucalwe had heard the singing as they had approached the Hall, and whispered to Saelbainor: "Oh old Mistaro...... is this the realm you found? You spoke to me once of Daeron. He was lost long ago. He had vanished into the East bereft of his lost-love, Luthien." Saelbainor smiled slightly, putting a finger to his mouth, neither confirming nor denying it. He processed forward to stand beside Auruiron and Melimwe, who stood at the head of the column. Saelbainor also turned to Agarwaenor, beckoning to him. The room fell silent when all had entered. They could hear the roaring of the sea far below, the whisperings of the wind. The Silver King had set his harp aside. The room was very silent. None among the Company knew if any should speak. Auruiron opened his lips, but Melimwe set a finger to them, signaling that it was the King's decision to break the silence. The Silver King stood, "Mae govannen, mellyn-nin. It is not oft that we receive Elven visitors to our own lands. It has been many centuries since I have laid eyes on Thranduil of Greenwood." His eyes fell on Agarwaenor, "So, you have returned, Herald of King Thranduil. Tell me, is thine King well, and why are you hither?" Agarwaenor stepped forward, and lowered himself to kneel, head bowed. "King Thranduil is well, and surely would bid me to give you his good tidings. I'm afraid my presence, however, is not due to any jolly intent. Mirkwood has recently suffered an attack. I thought it... Prudent, to ensure the well-being of neighbouring kingdoms is not similarly threatened." "Your words betray you," The Silver King replied gently, "You have spoken -a- reason, that is truthful, but it is not -the- reason. I am not known as King Dairlingul for nothing. My song pierces all!" He asserted. "I have dreamed.... this day would come........ Tell me, what think you of the one who calls himself Elurin, son of Elu Thingol, of Doriath, my old realm?" Inheroth went utterly still, his face a blank mask even as his eyes flickered over to his brother. Agarwaenor remained prostrated, his face rising as a mask of calm. "With respect, my liege, my thoughts on Lerinon are surely inconsequential. I seek to serve the interests of the free peoples. My feelings are secondary." "The free peoples," Dairlingul mocked. "You speak of them as if they are unified. But I am of a different world. Rohan, Gondor, Lothlorien, Greenwood, Imladris! They are naught but names on a map to me, discordant, and non-unified. At least King Thranduil had the sense to keep his realm out of the business of the rest of Arda, as I have. A King just gave you a command, Herald of Mirkwood." Lerinon stepped forward, "It is quite plain, what he thinks of me." There were gasps of awe in the chamber of those native to Dorwinion. There he stood, precisely, as their Silver King had described him in years past. Macilon's face tightened as he stared at Lerinon. Agarwaenor rose slowly, and spared only a sideways glance at Lerinon. He quickly returned his gaze to the King, awaiting the consequenses to Lerinon's outburst. King Dairlingul smiled strangely, "So you have come. My herald, Hallothanar, has told me everything about you. But I was not surprised....." Lerinon stammered imprudently, "How do you know of me? How did you dream of me?" King Dairlingul bowed, outspreading his cloak, imitating the strange gesture that Yucalwe and Auruiron had practiced since Yucalwe's days in the Gardens of Lorien long ago, "That will be revealed in time. Recieve my aid, Lerinon. Know that while thine lineage is uncertain, I believe that it is true nonetheless......." His gace fell on Agarwaenor again, "I know more than you know, Herald of Mirkwood! More than you will ever know. Leave thy precious 'free peoples' to their squabbles! They are neither free nor unified, unworthy of our attention. For my gaze turns toward the East..... where realms exist beyond thine wildest dreams. Why do you think all of you are here, and not left bereft on the borders of my lands? You are here because doom as called you.... a doom of which I am aware. Tell me, Lerinon. What do you fear the most in this moment?" Lerinon slowly bowed, "I fear....... being imprisoned again........" "And who imprisoned you?" Lerinon knelt down slowly, "King Thranduil of Greenwood.... at the behest of...." "At whose behest?" Lerinon pointed at Agarwaenor. He had been returning with Malchon and Calemir to see Caranor and Amarchon, when he sighted Agarwaenor and Inheroth walking away from the door to their chamber. Lerinon had sent the two guards back to his own chambers while he followed the two brothers, overhearing everything while remaining aloof. The Silver King's gaze fell again on Agarwaenor, "And what would you have me do with him? Shall he meet the doom from which you suffered? Shall I send King Thranduil an undeniable message, and deprive his realm of wine?" Lerinon gazed at Agarwaenor coldly. Agarwaenor had been a thorn in his side ever since they first met in Thranduil's Royal Library. But then Lerinon's gaze fell on Inheroth, clearly pained in terror. Lerinon's gaze softened, "No. I.... do not believe that this would prove necessary, your Most Royal Highness." Inheroth returned Lerinon's gaze with a watery glare, his fists curled at his sides. Yet he remained silent. The Silver King smiled coldly, "Tell me, golden-haired one," he was now addressing Auruiron, "With whom did you hope to negotiate? Allow me to now ease thine spirit, and give thy supposed son, Lerinon, a form of just retribution over his confinement, a justice born from his deepest dreams." He slowly descended the Throne, I have ruled this Realm for years. For countless centuries. But unlike King Thranduil, I grow bored. It is all ever the same. We cling to our bows and arrows, we hide from Easterling tribesmen, and from armies magnicient, decked as they are in bronze and gold, their horns and trumpets sounding, their blood-red banners flowing, we make them fear us as much as we fear them, for though they are mortals, they are many, we are fewer, and ever have I negotiated with the other realms of Dorwinion, their flet Kingdoms and vineyards, it is ever the same. Ever have I served my realm, my people.... but I believe that it is time they are ruled by younger blood, of a House so royal and so bereft of lordship....... Attendants!" Several servants came running over, as if on cue, upholding Lerinon's cloaks from behind. And the Silver King declared: "Approach the Throne, Lerinon." Lerinon slowly processed forward reluctantly, fear mounting in his fea. Macilon was gazing at him coldly. The Silver King ceremoniously and slowly removed the hollow crown, his silver circlet of rule, from his silver head. Lerinon felt a deep haze wash over him. He thought that he was dreaming again. And the Silver King declared, "I crown thee, Elu Lerinon. Thine realm of Doriath is fallen. But this realm, at least, may be thine own. I have long meditated and agonized over this day, but have come to the just decision. Hail Elu, Lerinon King!" And with that, the crown came down on Lerinon's head, the audience of gathered Dorwinion nobles applauding, as if it had all been planned so long ago. Lerinon turned. And for the first time in his life, he was speechless. "Worry not," Dairlingul whispered in Lerinon's ear. "For I shall stay and advise you for a time. Even Elven Kings should thence retire. Thy claim is all the greater than mine own........" And Lerinon declared, "Some retribution...... I shall require a Council of advisers....... that this land be ruled well. Such was the custom of the lords of yore. I name Dairlingul King Emeritus, and declare him as my chief adviser, with Agarwaenor as my Lord Herald. I declare that this realm will support the tasks of Auruiron son of Alcarin and all his Company, which shall receive the continued hospitality of the Realm, and lend aid of arms, if need shall be. I....." Lerinon suddenly fainted, collapsing on the Throne behind him. Dairlingul called aloud, "And what are you all standing there for? Aid thy Silver King!" Inheroth approached the throne slowly, ascending the steps behind the rush of Dorwinion nobles that pressed forward to see aid their new King. He stepped around them, paying the once-Silver King little heed, and knelt beside Lerinon's prone form. "Fool," he whispered to himself. "What have you gotten yourself into?" And despite his anger and his confusion, he lay a careful hand at Lerinon's forehead. "He needs rest," he said loudly, to any that could hear him. "Reprieve from this...shock. I will be at his side." Agarwaenor remained in place, a look of subtle horror on his paled face. Dairlingul nodded, "Carry him back to his chambers. Our King needs rest. More suitable chambers will be prepared for him while he does so.........." |
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| Ioristion | Jun 12 2016, 10:40 PM Post #106 |
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Chapter XLIII: A Clouded Future Macilon stammered at Alcano, "He endangers our task! Foolishness! Madness and foolishness! I warned him!" Alcano nodded sadly, "Madness.... does appear to run strong... in my family..." Macilon shook his head, "He is as stubborn as your grandfather! In all due respect, of course........." Alcano nodded, "My uncle has truly lost his mind..... and this King...... this Silver King...." Macilon paced to and fro across his chamber, "None of this makes sense.......for the Maia spoke not to me of this." Alcano blinked, "Let us.... remain watchful.... for now......." Macilon nodded morosely, "I do not sense anything amiss.... otherwise............." Alcano closed his eyes, "Will my uncle die?" Macilon abruptly turned, his cape sweeping behind him, "That remains to be seen.......... my words concerned only his -dreaming- of the fulfillment of his deepest desires, not of their actual fulfillment.......... and if his deepest desires have indeed shifted, another weapon shall our foe have over him......" Alcano nodded, "How does our foe detect our deepest fears and desires?" Macilon nodded sadly, "His spirit penetrates our minds.... our hearts........." "Do you mean, as, the Lady of the Wood?" Celebressel entered. "I am afraid so," Macilon replied. "He is she, were she a terrible Queen." Celebressel stared blankly, "And what if I want or fear something different today than yesterday?" Macilon nodded, "Our deepest fears and desires are more intrinsic to ourselves........ more so, than passing whims....... they are the things that we have cherished and feared for Ages..... I suggest that we use this time hither to meditate carefully in the intensity of our self-reflections, and discern these things, for we must, and we must resist the shadows that will seek to subdue us.........fear not for King Elu Lerinon. For I will have words with him. Beware the Great Song of Sorcery....... while I do not fear his person, I fear his name......... there is something awry with his name..........." Celebressel nodded, "We need to become more sensitive.... as you are...... your cape is the secret, I believe...." Macilon nodded slowly, "The cape........." He slowly outspread his folds, his fiery red lining glimmering brightly in the sunlight. They were soon sitting on their place of rest, cloaked deeply, gazing at the glistening, gathering, gleaming waters of the sun-filled sea, the vast mysterious Rhun awaiting them, beyond the far horizon. Edited by Ioristion, Jun 13 2016, 12:32 PM.
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| Ioristion | Jun 13 2016, 02:53 PM Post #107 |
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Chapter XLIV: The Cape "Tell me the secrets of the cape," Celebressel spake as she rested beside her husband and Macilon. Macilon nodded slowly, "Long ago in the West, there was a sacred spring, borne of Lady Nienna's tears, and from this spring, sprang a stream, a stream so small in width, it did not appear on the olden maps of yore, and in this stream, flowed the waters of the dreams, that stretched to the sacred isle, in the midst of the long lake of Lorien, surrounded by beauteous gardens, of plants to us all strange, in shape and hue, and magnificent. And nigh the stream, the lake, the spring, were the paths to the Halls of Mandos. Now, Auruiron, apparently, only perceived the spring, when he dipped his golden silk that he had woven, for great was the craft of the Eldar. Weaving was known among elleths than ellons, but ellons wove as well, albeit less frequently, for weaving was among the great crafts, next to carpentry, and forging. Jewels, capes, and crystal lamps, all were hewn and woven and forged, in long hours of difficult labor, of varying types. Even writing is among these crafts, and singing, and playing instruments. Song was the greater of all the arts, for it was the first Art, and all other arts first sprang from it. The capes were first woven in the Song, before Elven fingers touched the nests, before they refined the threads, and wove the fabric. Yes, Auruiron only perceived the spring. He did not perceive the stream that sprang from the spring. And the spring first sprang from Lady Nienna's eyes, gathering in the pools beneath her, fed by the waters of Lorien. Do you truly believe that Nienna sits there, her tears streaming down a stream? Nay. Her tears are placed in a phial that is emptied into the waters that flow down to the spring. Yet it is true, she is ever, weeping, weeping for all our faults, for all the discord of Morgoth. Now Melkor came forth from the Halls of Mandos, and came upon Amanuiron, and that proved the latter's ruination. Amanuiron's cape was dipped in the lake of Lorien, into which flowed the stream from the spring, golden lined with crimson, gold for his beauty, and crimson for his fiery spirit. He was ever passionate in the arts of dream-craft. Dreams, too, borne from our innermost minds, were crafted by the Valar, yet only this, among all crafts, was controlled by the Valar alone, until Melkor's discord ruined everything, and dreams were born from individual minds, from deep within the innermost recesses. Some dreams, however, remain under the control of the West." Celebressel nodded, "And how many such capes are there, and why does my husband not have one?" Macilon laughed, "Each one of you has one for a reason, for greater, brighter reasons all unknown to us. But if everyone had one, can you imagine how discordant the world would be, if every person hid within one's folds, vanishing into the realm of one's own dreams? How would anyone hunt, or fish, or cook, or eat? When would anyone do anything other than sleep? You need not question the powers. The capes, while lovely, and beautiful, artistic, also have purposes, and these purposes are practical, they must be served. There are Eleven and Eleven and Eleven, in truth. Eleven of gold for the sons of Alcarin. Eleven of red and black for the lost exiles. And Eleven of gold and red to unify. Some remain hidden until the proper time, woven into the strands of the former, until the strands are severed, new capes unfolding from them. Of this, only the Powers of the West are capable, and the spring and the stream and the lake contain such powers, not of their own accord, but of how they are channeled by Valar such as Lady Nienna and Lord Irmo. And yet, even their powers are not their own, for they were born of the Song of the Ainur long ago, of the Great Music, from the One Himself. If only all could understand this: the Valar serve the One. And there is only One true Eru Iluvatar." Celebressel bowed, "Let us count the capes, or cloaks, or whatever we wish to call them, then." Macilon smirked, and yet the rest of his face remained graven solemn. Celebressel tried to smile, "Of the Eleven of Gold: Auruiron, Fareon, Lerinon, Ioristion, Cellindien, Melimwe, and Lerinon and Fareon had inherited those from Almareon and Astarseron, so that is... six out of Eleven." Alcano nodded, "I believe, from what Yucalwe told me, that Ivordir and Daerfalas have received one each. They were Gondorians who joined us for a time across the Misty Mountains." Celebressel nodded, "Then that would imply that they were adopted. That leaves two more." Macilon nodded, "Beware of greed, Celebressel! Do not seek powers that may not belong to you. But one of them has not yet revealed itself." Celebressel nodded grimly, "How is it that I am included among our hidden Council of Seven, and I do not have a cape?" Macilon smirked, "Your own cape already possesses some lesser measure of augmentation. Do you not see? When my cape touched yours, it augmented it to a small degree, as if one's cloak becomes only slightly damp in the rain, as opposed to being rendered soaking wet from being dipped into the sea. But, in time, the augmentation dries, as a cape dries from its dampness, for if it were otherwise, the entire world would be filled to the brim with endless augmentations of dream-clothes! And that is not the way of nature. As one must ever sing to Lady Elbereth for guidance, one must continually augment, by touching one's own cape to the cape that had been bathed in the spring, the stream, the lake. These capes that have been bathed as such do not lose their augmentations, for the direct blessings of the West do not wither with time, or suffer decay. But they also remain in the province of the West. They can n'er be used for evil." Alcano blinked, "How is it that the bile is derived from corruptions of Lorien plants, for what you have told us?" Macilon nodded grimly, "It came not from the plants themselves, but from their seeds, planted and sown in the discordant soil of the marred Earth. Amanuiron introduced poisons into these plants through fell means of his own, altering them, altering what had already been created, so that they ceased to be of the same species. Guldrambor's plants are no longer of Lorien. The capes already existed in the West when they were blessed. Do you not know? All was once permanent and fixed before Melkor marred the Earth in his warring with the West, long before the First Age of Arda! All was perfect, and then evil entered, and marred perfection. Even still, do not doubt the sacredness of the Earth. The Earth is ever sacred, and only some elements of it were marred, or used for fell purposes. But there are other elements.... that remain untarnished." Celebressel nodded solemnly. Malfinseron and Findistedis kept quiet in awe of the breadth of the vortex of their conversation. Celebressel smiled, "Let me continue the litany of names of those who wear the capes. We covered the Eleven of Gold, of which, only eight have revealed themselves, correct?" Macilon slowly nodded, "The Maia, Uireb, brother of Amanuiron, foresaw this, the result of many choices. But there is a Ninth cape: the cloak of Macalaure, the first to emerge beside the original cape that Auruiron had woven. This cape had been gifted to Macalaure along the quays of Alqualonde, from what I have learned...." Celebressel nodded, "Then there are indeed two more golden capes that have yet to reveal themselves. And now for the black and red..." Macilon nodded, "There are two original black and red's. Mine and Yucalwe's. Their origins differ, and yet, consist in the same root origin." Celebressel gazed at him curiously, "How?" Alcano smiled, "I can explain, I believe. If the Maia bathed Macilon's cape in the spring of the stream of the lake, then Yucalwe's came into being during that strange miraculous occurrence in my aunt's basement." Macilon nodded, "Yes, I have known of this. The artifact contained the same augmentations as the spring. The artifact touched Yucalwe's cape, one in a long line of succession, of capes he had sewn since before the First Age. But, Uireb foretold this, and gave me a secret: Amanuiron's initial augmentation of Auruiron's artifact contained a singular burst of power, of augmentation, that would augment only one object to become as if it had been bathed in the spring, the stream, the lake. Know that Amanuiron's later tampering, his discord, did not mar this power. For this artifact, forged as it was in the West, remained as pure as the Silmarils, even as Morgoth sought to use it for his own nefarious purposes. And it came forth when Yucalwe's cape touched it, once, and once alone." Alcano nodded, "Did you not say unto us that Guldrambor's interference ruined Aegnil?" Macilon nodded, "Nay. You mistake me. I can imagine how confusing it all must be to you........ it is to me. Let me explain: The version of I, whom Macil and Aegnil first perceived, was born from Macil's imagination, from his own mind. I tried, in my servant's guise, nearby, to interfere, believing at the time that Guldrambor was indeed attempting to interfere from afar. But now I realize...... that Macil and Aegnil were sharing harsh memories, memories that overwhelmed poor Aegnil, resulting in his demise. This is the artifact's power, and what marks it as different from the capes: the capes will -protect- one's mind from being invaded by one such as Guldrambor, if they are used properly. If they are used improperly, Guldrambor may still interfere. Let me put it to you in this way: If I take the artifact, and touch it, and you take the artifact, and touch it, then our innermost minds will produce a fusion of our memories. If I take your cape, and touch it, and you are wearing your cape, then I -may,- if the Powers deem me worthy, partake in one of thine own memories, a brief, vague, glimpse into thy past. Do you not perceive the difference?" Alcano nodded slowly, "The artifact may fuse our memories together, but the cape will only share one memory per person to the other who is partaking in the communion. I think I understand. And the capes only permit this to occur at certain times. The capes may also produce dreams or visions, but only at certain times. Is the artifact more reliable than the capes?" Macilon nodded, "Yes and no, and in some ways yes, and in others, no. The artifact, unlike the capes, will not protect you from Guldrambor's darkened strength of mind. It is in this way that the artifact resembles the Palantiri of the Noldor of old. It cannot be corrupted, but some force may attempt to infiltrate, and the artifact's fundamental goodness will then strive against the discord. It is one's armor, but one's armor may be pierced, by spear, arrow, or sword, and in this case, by the mind of Guldrambor. Let me give you an example. You have told me of all of your father's and grandfather's experiences, or the most that you would tell me, as we rowed down the rivers together. I also overheard or indirectly witnessed several of them as I served the Lady Rostoriel, thy mother. So, Auruiron had several experiences in the First Age that he seldom discusses, for it was dangerous to use the artifact so close to Angband, even in Beleriand. Morgoth may yet indeed have perceived the spiritual armor of the artifact. In the Second Age, Auruiron seldom touched it, for similar reasons. He feared it. Sauron was abroad as Annatar, and so it is now proven wise, for Auruiron not to have used it. I bade Faeleth bury it because I did not want Sauron to hinder our retreat from afar through your father's possession of it. I............ could not save your grandmother. I tried, urgently, to persuade her, but she insisted on waiting behind for her husband to arrive! And he arrived too late..........." Alcano nodded sorrowfully. Macilon continued, "Then, Ioristion's cape, began producing the visions of Findekano, when he wandered mad and found the Staff in Minas Elendur, believing that Findekano was truly speaking to him. In truth, Findekano was released from Mandos, onto Tol Eressea, for his sacrifice, clothed in a new hroa, re-experiencing his childhood and everything. When he was old enough, as Uireb told me, Uireb then revealed to him all of his visions with your father and the others in advance, and Findekano agreed to them. Findekano, as such, communed with thy father only indirectly. But thy father's madness tampered with these visions, which Findekano understood: Findekano perceived, in prime, the grand conclusion of these visions, the true reason as to why he assented to them. But Ioristion's madness marred the visions, forming the story of Findekano's spirit being trapped by Guldrambor in Minas Elendur. But there were other visions, far more beautiful, and Findekano approved of these. Meanwhile, the bile had found its way with Guldrambor's agents into Eriador, into thy father's side at the bloodied tip of a dagger in Nenuial, festering in Forochel and northern Ered Luin, and finally bearing its foul fruit in Minas Noldorion. Several capes were present in the Tower of Auruiron on that fateful day. Macalaure, Ancalimo, Almareon Annunon, Melimwe, and Astarseron, all came unto Auruiron's aid. Auruiron's mind was chaotic in his nightmares, because the fellness of the bile was at war with the powers of the cape, and with Auruiron's own psyche, his own mental stability. And so his wound had festered, and grown, and some of the bile had leaked from his side, dripping within the floor-beams, to fall on Cellindien and Ioristion far later. Auruiron, meanwhile, as he later told me, had rushed through his halls as if a raging beast, wounding poor Ancalimo, and causing a ruckus! In the end, he was subdued and saved under the watchful care of the great sage Laurefinde, and Melimwe. Not idly spoken was the prophesy of the voices upon the wind....... Now, focus on the following. Know that Findekano's 'intervention' had already been agreed to when it occurred. The first prime intervention, borne from the tears of the Vala in the cape, occurred the Hall of Fire in Imladris, and the second occurred in a strange place, Thorin's Hall I believe it was. The third occurred in Minas Noldorion, reacting against the poisonous bile of Guldrambor. Further interventions occurred throughout Eriador and Eregion, and even from within Imladris, but they became less and less frequent. He appeared to Auruiron briefly for the last and final time. He appeared to Ioristion again during our journey down the rivers. The artifact re-emerged as well, and Cellindien, you, Ioristion, Rostoriel, and others, also beheld visions, Alcano. And these visions were far less precise of those of Findekano, tampered-with by all of your own imaginations and ideas. This is why Rostor, instead of Findekano, was standing beside the basin on Tol Eressea. And this is why Rostor, in turn, thought he perceived me, standing there across the sea." Celebressel smiled, "Thank you for taking this time. It is all beginning to make sense...." Macilon nodded, "It is rather scientific, one might suggest, as well as mystical and mysterious. And that, my friends, is a paradox. Do you understand now?" The four of them nodded. Celebressel smiled again, "So let me understand this even better. Findekano's interventions were foretold by Uireb to Findekano in the West, who approved them, and visions of Findekano's once-location in the West, while this was occurring, became filtered through the minds of my husband, Cellindien, and others, placing different Elves on the spot where Findekano had been standing when the then-future visions had been approved by Findekano?" Macilon chuckled, "That is the best way to understand it, yes. It is beyond our ken of reasoning in many ways. Dreams are works of art, but they can also be discordant, marred, disturbing, and confusing. Yet they may reveal certain aspects of the Real." Celebressel nodded, "And Findekano then 'appeared,' less and less frequently, borne from Ioristion's cape?" Macilon nodded, "Yes, and then Cellindien's cape aided that of Ioristion, creating stronger visions." Celebressel nodded, "And the artifact is different from the cape because two or more persons who touch it can share visions together?" Macilon nodded, "Yes, in truth, it melds their minds." Celebressel nodded, "Fair enough. But we have not yet concluded our litany. We only covered Yucalwe's cloak and thine own, making two out of Eleven." Macilon smirked, "Then, Yucalwe's cloak subdivided into six new ones, making seven altogether." Alcano nodded, "You, Yucalwe, Abrazan, Ivordir, Daerfalas, Macil, and Cellindien." Macilon nodded, "Now let me reveal to you everything Yucalwe foresaw within the artifact. The artifact, close as it was to the sea, then seemed to commune actual prophecy, an exception to its normal state. There are ever exceptions to many rules...." Alcano nodded, "Tell us." Macilon smiled, "I have already told you everything I know regarding our Quest, specifically, and I believe the time has come for this. First of all, one of the dark and red capes, too, was foreseen as to divide into three as well: one for a mortal young Gondorian lord, and one for another mortal young Gondorian lord, and one for its master. The names Sainion and Baralinor had entered Yucalwe's mind. Yucalwe had known Baralinor during his time with the House of the Silver Swan nigh Dol Amroth... Yucalwe had revealed the cryptic words he had received, and I have memorized them: For you, oh Prince, of the Fiery Realm, and for you, oh daughter, of a Master of Swords, and for you, oh Southron Prince of Elvendom, and for you, oh Heir of House En-twined, of a Land of Stone, and for you, oh Son, of a Merchant Fair, and for you, oh Heir, of Amarth Naru. The main must remain upon the shoulders of the Lord of Twilight, the Son of Stars." Alcano nodded, "The Prince of the Fiery Realm would be Macil. The Swordmaster's daughter is Cellindien. The Southron Prince must be Abrazan. The Heir of House En-twined must be Ivordir, for he, too, is of Gondor, a Land of Stone. Daerfalas was the son of a merchant, from what I have heard. Heir of Amarth Naru...?" "Yucalwe still possesses it," Macilon replied. "He was waiting to learn to whom the cape must be bestowed: you or your father. After all the time we have spent together, I will tell him: you are the one." Alcano shook his head, "I would rather yield it to my father, who has much-loved resting in the cape of Macil." Macilon laughed, "And that is precisely why -you- are the one, and not your father. For your father would have believed that he, not you, should wear it. I will tell Yucalwe when the time has come. Thus is the count of ten out of Eleven: Yucalwe, Macil, Cellindien, Alcano, Abrazan, Ivordir, Daerfalas, Baralinor, Sainion the Gondorian, and myself." Celebressel nodded, "And what of the red and gold?" Macilon frowned, "Yucalwe foresaw three out of Eleven. The first was Amanuiron's... and somehow it will find its way into the hands of a mortal named Amarthon, if it has not already done so. He, and his two brothers, whose names are as of yet unknown to us." Alcano was snickering, "Ah, something that you do not already know!" Macilon laughed, "I know some..... not all..... In any case, Amanuiron's cape was bathed in the same spring, stream, and lake, and so it is pure, as the Silmarils are pure. But as his darkness grew, that cape must have become more and more of a burden for him to wear, and yet he kept it, seeking to corrupt it somehow, and he must have kept it hidden from his fell peers in the depths of Angband..... and somehow, he will bestow it upon this mortal, Amarthon, seeking to manipulate him........ but I find the goodness of the cape shall sway him, as Yucalwe discerned, and that Guldrambor's foul plot will be undone......." Alcano nodded, "And of the other eight out of Eleven?" Macilon shook his head, "I do not know....... according to what we have perceived, the Company of Ivordir is well over a month behind us...... we shall discern what we may yet discern, when the time arrives......." Celebressel nodded, "For now, then, only two capes have yet to reveal themselves.... a gold and a red and black.........." Macilon nodded, "You shall share in the cape of Alcano, Celebressel. Of the gold, I do not know....." She nodded. And Malfinseron and Findistedis stared at them, brimming with hope. They were now the only ones of the Seven who were not single and had not a blessed cape. Macilon stared at them and smiled. Celebressel smiled, "What marks the differences between the colors? Gold is for Auruiron's House, red and black for Exile, and red and gold to bring the two together." Macilon nodded, "Because Auruiron had sought to -follow- Exiles without partaking within an Exile, and yet he did. I was born an Exile, and so they are my colors. Yucalwe willfully chose Exile, and so they are his colors. Auruiron sought to avoid Exile while becoming exiled..... gold is his dream, and dark, his reality, marred as it is with blood...... Golden was Amanuiron's spirit, and red was his passion for Art......... Macil and Abrazan are the sons of Exile. Cellindien, by joining herself into these noble Houses, becomes exiled. Ivordir and Daerfalas wear both, only their Exile is an inherited one, not only from the Noldor through their adoption into Auruiron's household, but also through the loss of ancient Numenor, that I have heard tale of. Sainion and Baralinor are also, presumably, bound as children of this Exile, Sainion as a brother in spirit to Baralinor, and Baralinor as a brother in spirit to Abrazan, adopted son of Yucalwe. But the capes are by no means signs of condemnation. They are rather of acceptance and repentance. By taking the red and black, we confess our exiled state of sorrow, and seek redemption. For this, the capes are sacred, not for the Exile, but for the redemption, that they signify. Redemption is ever holy, sacred, and just." The others bowed their heads. And Alcano said, "Then for this, and this alone, I will take the red and black of Yucalwe, and redeem our fallen Household." Macilon deeply smiled, "Excellent. Most excellent. There is but one more cape, but it lies beyond our reach: The gold and red cape of Uireb himself. He wears the One. He wears it still. The One binds all the others together. This is why we must maintain the secrecy of our task, among we Seven... So, in total, two golden, one red and black, and eight gold and red capes, all have yet to reveal themselves to us..... Golden was our beginning, of light and splendor. Black was our Exile, cast away. But then united, Art and lineage, passion and blood-line, shall all shine gold again, and unto the West, we may yet return." Alcano nodded, "Will then the capes fade?" Macilon shook his head, "The capes of the mortals may, generation after generation, eventually become lost, and n'er be found again, but our capes will remain with us forever, even the black and red of Exile, that shall then serve as pure reminders, of how far we have come...." Celebressel nodded, "Yes.... and you have told us thine secrets. But tell me this: What role will the Thirty-Three cape-bearers play?" Macilon shook his head, "Not even Uireb himself told me this. I do not know. All I do know is that each possesses its purpose, and that each wears his cape for a reason." They nodded, solemnly, all staring anew at the glistening sea. |
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| Ioristion | Jun 13 2016, 03:06 PM Post #108 |
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Chapter XLV: The Folds of Exile Celebressel was waiting in her chamber as Alcano returned. He had already visited Yucalwe's chamber with Macilon. He entered the room all cloaked in black, even his mouth was concealed, and his grey eyes shined as diamonds, his fiery-toned hair flowing behind him. Now he had dawned the visage of Rostor, who wore a similar cape. Celebressel warmly smiled, "So it is done..... the cape of Exile........ my kindred never parted from these shores...." Alcano nodded, his mouth and nose still concealed by the luminous dark folds of the cape, "But you are exiled, my dear...... all living in Exile of the West, all who failed to fulfill the Great Journey......" Celebressel nodded sadly, "I suppose that this is so..........Come closer. Do not conceal thine gorgeous face from me, my beauteous Prince......" Alcano flared his cape aloft, folds gathering on the floor, flowing down his arms, the luminous, numinous, fiery folds outspread by his arms, his face smirking: "As you command, my love." He bowed low, "How might I serve thee?" They were soon in each others' arms, beneath the folds, kissing each others' cold, gentle, pale cheeks deeply. And then they danced, as Rostor danced of old, in mirth and splendour. Celebressel chased the folds as Alcano swept them away. In time, Celebressel smirked, "Now let me wear it...." Alcano nodded, Celebressel upholding her vast silvery tresses, as Alcano dawned the cape upon her shoulders, clasping it gently. Then she toyed with it, and he chased her, as she swept the folds away. They landed on their place of rest, and kissed anew upon their lips, their hearts throbbing, the luminous, shifting, waters of the sea glistening behind them outside the windows. It had not initially dawned on them that Rostor and Cellindien Finlos' youth-filled love had ended for a time in tragedy, resulting in the long Exile of them both from each other. Then, Alcano remembered. The kissing slowed down and gradually drew to a halt. Then, Alcano spake: "We must take care....... for such was the blossoming of love between Rostor and Cellindien Finlos, right before their Ages-long Exile........." The words chilled Celebressel to the bone, "You should see to your uncle, and see how he fares. He did not look well when he fainted.......here, take the cape, you may need it............." Slow tears began to gently fall down her cheeks. Alcano kissed her warm, salty tears, "I shall return, my love......." He took the cape, she clasped it around his shoulders, he folded the excess folds on his arms, and then he left the room. Then, Celebressel burst into deep watery tears, sobbing, for Macilon's words concerning the black and red silk, of its signification, now haunted her........deeply....... Edited by Ioristion, Jun 13 2016, 03:12 PM.
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| Ioristion | Jun 13 2016, 10:21 PM Post #109 |
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Chapter XLVI: A King Awakens Melimwe could scarcely believe it as he paced to and fro in Lerinon's chambers. My poor nephew...... he has never ruled a thing in his life........ our tiny little 'realm' was paltry compared to this.......something is terribly amiss........ oh what is it! What is it! Inheroth watched-over Lerinon carefully. No one knew where Agarwaenor was. He likely seeks solace after that terrifying ordeal, Melimwe surmised. He never enjoyed Lerinon much, from what I have heard.... And Lerinon slowly opened his eyes. Auruiron knelt beside him, across from Inheroth, "My son...." Auruiron gently rubbed Lerinon's forehead, "My poor son.........." Lerinon slowly rubbed his eyes, "I have had the most peculiar dream............." "It was no dream, your Highness," Melimwe approached the place of rest. Lerinon's eyes grew wide, "No........... this cannot be....................." The four Mirkwood guards had been told to wait outside. But Fareon was permitted to enter. Fareon knelt down, "My poor brother............ your madness has gotten the best of you......at long last.........." "I........ am not..........MAD!" Lerinon suddenly stammered, shocking them all, "It is my destiny!" Auruiron nodded gently, "Yes, it would appear to be so..... you are still my son." Lerinon balked, "I am your King, now!" Auruiron stammered, "And we are -your- guests! Remember who prevented you from starving to death in the wilderness!" "Who would not have starved to death had his surrogate father's best friend, brother, Macalaure son of Feanor, not charged down our gates, burst through our halls, and seek to murder the lot of us!" "I thought you forgave him! You truly are mad........." "I did.......... for a time, I truly did.......... but now am I thus crowned in grave ascendancy, now do I ascend unto mine rightful place, now hath destiny placed its crown upon my head.............Heed me, Ada, or stand aside!" Auruiron broke down in tears, "My son........" "Ah............. so now you have admitted it, Son of the Noldor. You ever wanted to be King, you made thine makeshift 'Throne,' and sat thine self upon it, in all thy glorious madness.............. you seek to call me mad? Me? For claiming the crown that hath come to me?" Melimwe snapped, "And what do you know of ruling, your Highness! Look at your father! Look at him! Your words slash into his fea as if daggers from thine tongue!" Inheroth said nothing. Auruiron turned and yelled, brushing his tears aside, "Fine then! Rule thine Realm! Thine home art forsaken...... you shall never return beneath the roof of Minas Noldorion.........." Lerinon balked, "Keep it. Keep thy craven's Throne. Keep it in all thine majesty. I bequeath it to thee! Go back, run, run son of Alcarin! Cling to thy Throne before the Sons of Feanor steal it from thee again!" Auruiron stormed out of the room, slamming the doors behind him. Melimwe turned, glaring coldly at Lerinon, but he said nothing, storming out the doors behind Auruiron. The four guards entered the room. Malchon was the first to speak, "What has happened?" Lerinon gasped, "Attend to me....... for I feel weak........" And he closed his eyes again, unconscious. It was then that Alcano arrived. Neither Auruiron nor anyone else spoke to him. Alcano solemnly draped his cape over Lerinon and stood vigil beside him. Edited by Ioristion, Jun 20 2016, 06:14 PM.
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| Ioristion | Jun 13 2016, 10:45 PM Post #110 |
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Chapter XLVII: A Walk in the Gardens After some time, Lerinon awoke again, his guards still present, tending to him. Inheroth had left in search of his brother. Alcano had reclaimed his cape and returned to his wife. He had heard of what had befallen Auruiron. The whole affair was distasteful. Lerinon had bitten the hands that fed and clothed him. He had bitten those hands that had tended to him for thousands of years. When Yucalwe learned of it, all he could remark was thus: "It reminds me of the rift forged between Auruiron and his father, and me and with mine own.......... this fell craft, this discord................. Melimwe, are you certain that Beornor will return?" Melimwe shook his head, "I already dispatched several Noldor to trail him through the woods toward the mannish realm. I bade them to keep their eyes sharp and tongues silent, save when speech is necessary, but otherwise to keep their hoods down and their noses out of trouble: they are only to assist Beornor whenever he needs assistance." Yucalwe nodded, "Dispatch others within these halls........." Melimwe nodded grimly, "I know....... I can feel it............. a lingering malice............. a haunting suffocation.......... this is not how an Elven Realm should feel. I remember it, alright........... the old, discordant feeling.................... it reminds me of Tirion in those waning days, when Melkor was among us." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lerinon walked silently beside the former Silver King, Dairlingul, who smiled as he guided Lerinon's steps, "I am sorry to have sprung this on you, Lerinon........... but it is as he foretold." "As who foretold?" "Never mind for now. I also had no Heir to the Throne in any case. My wife and child were lost long ago, slain by the Balchoth upon our borders. I harbored grudges throughout the years. I kept our realm apart from the other Dorwinion realms, of both Elves, and of the Edain. But soon thereafter supplies ran short, save wine, and I realized the importance of trade. And so, we traded, with Edain and with our kindred, and even with the Easterlings of farther Rhun. I learned the Balchoth had met their end in any case. There was no vengeance to be had. I eventually learned of the Dark Lord, Sauron, who styled himself as the Necromancer of Dol Guldor. But reports made him out to be too powerful for our kindred to become involved in King Thranduil's conflicts." Lerinon nodded solemnly. Then Dairlingul continued, speaking everything he knew: of the cultivation of vineyards and fermentation of wine. He revealed that he and his kindred did not know the process of weaving silks, for they were traded from the Easterlings, by way of the Edain. He told him of how he had fallen in love with the land, for its west and eastern fringes reminded him of Neldoreth, and how he commissioned the delvings of these halls, to mirror long-lost Menegroth. He revealed his brief travels abroad: to the eastern shores of Rhun, and northwest to Esgaroth and Erebor, to the Halls of Thranduil, and the furthest west he had ever traveled was Lothlorien. He knew, deep in his heart of hearts, that his corner of Dorwinion was the greatest, for it combined the greatness, of all the Elven realms that he had seen. Such was his boasting. But then Dairlingul confessed, "Ruling is not easy. Regardless of how these Elves migrated, they came, upon the Great Journey. Their Journey ended here, while Lord Cirdan and the Teleri marched forward, and if they cared not to mention us as separate from the Avari in their tomes, then it is quite a pity: for we are not Avari. Our realm is grand, as you have seen. Even still, the pressures are great. A prudent King will make as many allies as he will, avoid alienating his friends, and prevent animosity from being stirred among his realm. A just King will hear his subjects and discern solutions to their many troubles. A wise King will not think himself invulnerable: he will take measures and precautions through which to protect his Realm from danger. A good King will take inventory and census, and know the flow of goods throughout his Realm, and know the population of his subjects. And this above all other things: A great King shall be both loved and feared by his subjects, preferably loved, for love breeds deeper loyalty, and feared only when necessary. You must journey throughout this Realm, my King, and make speeches before thine subjects.......... and take inventories, send-out servants........ and ensure that records are written and preserved, and tended. A Kingdom is not akin to a book upon a mantelpiece. It is rather akin to a great Vineyard: the vines must be tended, the grapes plucked safely and washed clean, the weeds pulled-out, everything. For ruling is the greatest and most toilsome of labors...... My decision to abdicate was not made lightly......" Lerinon deeply nodded, "I agree............" They came to an old, wizened tree, its branches cracked, with small leaves still hanging from its dying branches. "This is where my father, the first Silver King, faded." "Faded?" Lerinon's eyes grew wide. "Yes... he was beautiful and brilliant. He was a counselor in Doriath, and he had survived the Great Journey, serving under Elu Thingol himself, and later, Elu Dior, thy true father. He escaped from the Second Kinslaying, to the Isle of Balar, and eventually to the East, after Beleriand was sundered. He had several loyal followers, many.... and as Oropher and Thranduil crossed the mountains, so did they...... and they came unto this fair land, for Oropher had already settled, and they found these Silvan-folk, who are of Telerin and Nandorin origin.......... I have, however, heard conflicting tales of when and how they settled hither. It matters not........ all that matters is that they are here and that the land is fertile, lush, rich...........as I said in Court, I have grown old and weary of the business of ruling.......... I had served my people well. Know that your coming to this Realm was foretold...... and foreseen............" "You still have not answered my question. How did your father, the first Silver King, fade?" Dairlingul heaved a deep sigh, "In agony........ long days...... hour after hour.......... his screams worsening steadily......... as his hroa knew not what to do......... to be bound to this world or to be bound to the Call of the West.......... never did I see an Elf so beautiful perish so...... horrifically............. I can still hear his screams....... as his hroa slowly faded........ till he was naught but an apparition, a mere ghost........... and then he was gone. Wait........... this is strange........ I can feel his presence now, somehow............." Lerinon removed his green cape, unveiling the gold beneath, thrusting a fold into Dairlingul's left hand, and then he gazed upward toward the tree, startled, "Look!" A vague vision unfolded before their eyes. Their, in white, billowing smoke, was the apparition of a veiled figure robed in gold. It vanished as swiftly as it had appeared. Dairlingul grabbed Lerinon's hand, "Come......... this, too, was foretold to me....... let us leave these gardens in haste.........." Dairlingul was strangely not surprised as he led Lerinon away. Then, Dairlingul spoke: "A message has come from an old, wizened Sage. He has sought you. He is a dear friend of mine in the Edain realm. It was he who made the prophecy before my dream came. He will reveal it to you then, when you meet with him. Your four guards should accompany you, they, and Hallothanar. No more, and no less. I will see to matters of ruling in your absence, and make greater preparations among thine subjects, for thine return to rule........." "Very well," Lerinon agreed. "I suppose I had better hear this prophecy....... I know that it is most unwise to seek to tamper with such matters as these......... if he commanded you not to speak it to me now, then nor shall I command you to do thus............. I will hear it from him." Lerinon's provisions were gathered swiftly, and he told his guards everything. They had been resting elsewhere, granting Inheroth and Agarwaenor their privacy. When all was prepared, Hallothanar came to guide them, and they set-out at sunset. They camped beneath the stars, and so ended the 31st of March. They continued at sunrise on the First of April. Edited by Ioristion, Feb 1 2018, 09:34 PM.
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| Ioristion | Jun 14 2016, 07:15 AM Post #111 |
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Chapter XLVIII: Sage of Eir The boat rowed gently through the fog across the many miles of the lagoon, north and west, and east again, to find the old hut of he who could have been the Jarl of those lands. Lerinon landed with his guards and slowly approached the hut apprehensively. An old, wizened man came forth, leaning on a staff, his eyes as bright as pearls, his smile as beaming as the sun, his dirty robes of a pale blue, "So you have come..." Lerinon and his guards learned that Sindri had lived in the City of Eir a long time ago. His visage made him appear as if he was seventy years of age, but his true age remained a mystery, to any who had ever met him. He had learned from his Masters of the darkness growing to the East and South. One day, he had wandered into Dorwinion, and discerned the Elves, and became their guest, for he was much sick of money and Eir's economics, and wanted to live fair and free among the immortals, whom he believed might yet confer upon him, immortality. The Silver King denied this, but took him into his service nonetheless. In time, something happened, and Sindri exiled himself. He refused the treasures of the Elves, built himself a hut along the sea-shore near Eir, and took to fishing for his sustenance, gaining water from a nearby spring. And when he drank from that spring one day, he had had a dream that night. And Sindri spoke: "And from that moment, I have never been the same....." Lerinon knelt before him, "Tell me thy blessed dream..." Sindri nodded, "A blessing.... or a curse.... I cannot say......... but as soon as I had it, I told it to the Silver King, as soon as he had visited me. He told me later that he dreamed a dream of his own...... in my dream, I can believe..... but in his, I fear deception........ Here is my dream: The East grew dark, and a small tiny flicker of a flame, grew amidst the shadows. And a voice spoke from the West: Wait for the Prince of Downfallen, From Doriath he comes, His arrival shall herald, Thunderous, hard war drums. A Silver Crown is granted, Upon his raven head, Though many folks shall perished, And fall among the dead, His golden mantle is long, It is the sacred sign, Beyond the East shall gather, Darkness' Fall be thine. And it was from these words, that the Silver King divined, that he would forfeit his crown. He has known this for decades....... preparing himself slowly. Not idly did he surrender it! Know that something terrible shall soon occur. When Dairlingul told me of his dream, I bade him to beware! For he saw you, and you did terrible things, but I know that it will not be so. Lerinon stood, "And how do you know?" Dairlingul grabbed his head and whispered in his ear, "Now hearken carefully.... there is something that you must know....." And when Lerinon's eyes grew wide, his heart terribly marred with grief and woe, the Sage Sindri bade him: "Now, make haste! You must hurry before it is too late!" Edited by Ioristion, Feb 1 2018, 09:35 PM.
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| Ioristion | Jun 14 2016, 07:29 AM Post #112 |
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Chapter XLIX: The High Feast of the Sindar On April 2nd, Lerinon and his guards sailed back into the undercaves, where they learned that a High Feast was to be held at mid-day, and mid-day had arrived. Auruiron, Cellindien, Inheroth, Agarwaenor, Fahnraen, and all their kindred, including the Beornings, all gathered in the High Feasting Hall adjacent to the Hall of the Silver King, and first came a course of greens and grapes, and then a course of reddened meat, and then a course of fresh fish from the sea. All seemed well, but something nagged at Melimwe's heart throughout the Feast. The food was good and generous, the delicacies refined, and yet that nagging still caused his heart to ache. Then did Dairlingul stand, and propose a toast, with the red wine, and many drank from their cups. Lerinon and the others stumbled into the chamber. All the Sindar, Silvan, and Nandorin Elves stood and bowed, as was their custom. Auruiron and his household neither stood nor bowed. And Dairlingul declared, "Your Majesty! I welcome thee........ hear now thence these words. I shall relinquish the King's Seat unto thee, after I have attended this tale, that may prove of interest to you all." Melimwe suddenly felt a sickened feeling in his stomach. "Long ago," Dairlingul declared, "By several counts of years, we had a visitor. His cape was red and gold, his hair silvery-blond, his grey eyes gleamed as sapphires, and his countenance was as stern as bronze. He befriended us, and revealed unto us his balm, that I have included within our drinks. The balm is tasteless. But from it springs the arts of dreams!" Melimwe shouted, "No! You horrid traitor! Do you not realize what you have done!" Melimwe turned to Lerinon's speechless guards, "Quick! Bring the athelas and herbs from Minas Noldorion! Make haste! The same that Laurefinde used to save Auruiron! Run!" "Save Auruiron from what?" Malchon wondered aloud. "No time! Run!" Melimwe shouted. But then several Sindarin guards blocked their egress. And Lerinon declared, "Make way for my guards! Make way for my guards! Thy King commands thee!" The Sindarin guards did not budge. Then several Elven lords entered the room, wearing capes of black and silver. Macilon's eyes grew wide, "They serve Guldrambor! They serve Guldrambor! They serve Guldrambor!!!!" Before any could draw sword or dagger, a darkened haze came across all their eyes. Macilon shouted, "Grab hold of any cloak of gold or black and red! Make haste!" All the Elves suddenly grabbed them, as a dark, flowing darkness, began to fill the chamber, the same flowing darkness that Cellindien and Ioristion, Auruiron and Macalaure, had faced in Minas Noldorion, and Dairlingul was gagging, "No...... this is not how it should be! It is the first time... we have drunk from this...... balm.... Amanuiron bade us to await my dream of Lerinon....... he bade us.......await thy arrival!" Auruiron shouted, "It is as the followers of Feanor were deceived before! It is as the followers of Annatar were deceived!" Blades were drawn at the rear of the hall, as Malchon stammered, "Stand aside or meet my steel!" The Sindarin guards, realizing the darkness their kindred had unwittingly unleashed, finally obeyed their King. The Mirkwood guards ran for the Company's herb provisions. And Lerinon stood, undaunted, before the shadows. Ioristion focused. He focused carefully. But Findekano did not come. A great light suddenly enveloped Lerinon, whose beaming words began to speak, against the shadow, "Foul carrion! Dark and evil! Leave this hallowed place, it is not for you! Oh Elbereth! Gilthoniel!" He drew his sword and charged amidst the shadows. Edited by Ioristion, Jun 14 2016, 02:26 PM.
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| Ioristion | Jun 14 2016, 08:37 PM Post #113 |
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Chapter L: The Doom of Kings King Elu Lerinon's golden cape billowed behind him as the darkness attempted to drown him. The darkness was suffocating. The darkness came at him within his mind. He shielded himself within his cape and retaliated. The darkness surged again. In reality, there were naught but Elves struggling to stay alive, gasping on the floor of the Hall. In their minds, darkness rose and attempted to consume them, rising against their wills, turning their imaginations against them. Finally, Lerinon charged forward through the shadows, reaching Dairlingul. Dairlingul was gasping, speechless. Lerinon held onto him tightly, attempting to thrust the shadows away from him. Dairlingul's eyes welled to the brim with despair. And Dairlingul gasped, "In you...... is the fulfillment...... of my deepest.... desire.........my fear dooms me..........leave me! Wear my robes... my cloaks.... my crown.....take..... my scepter...... my sword.....my coat of arms........have a proper....crowning...............and journey.... among....thy..........kindred........oh! I am fading.......the darkness subdues me..........my father's ghostly arm reaches for me..... to take me to his fate!" Lerinon cried, "No! I need you! We need you! Fight back! Fight back thy greatest fear! Macilon, aid me!!!" Macilon could not come, for he was sheltering several others, including himself, beneath his cape. Lerinon cloaked himself and Dairlingul, swiftly, beneath his gold, as the darkness rushed-in on both of them. All went black. But then, slowly, the darkness beyond the cape grew brighter. Lerinon could feel Dairlingul's warm breath upon his face. Lerinon whispered, "Dairlingul..... you will not die this day....... I command you, not to die.......... I, thy Silver King...........will hath need of thee..........." "My fear....threatens...to...subdue me...." "Then kiss me upon my cheek, left or right, it matters not..... think only on thy King, neither on desire, nor on terror....." Dairlingul obeyed, maintaining his cheek-kiss, focusing only on the present moment, his mind and hroa in agony. The pain gradually began to subside. After some time passed, Lerinon asked, "Where were you born?" "In... Menegroth....I was akin to you in age, when... Doriath.... was...sacked....." Dairlingul gasped. "Guldrambor.... is the true name of the Elf who came, foul he is, beneath his feigned fairness.......fallen Maia, servant of Morgoth......." Dairlingul nodded grimly, pain welling beneath his forehead, "We....were..all...deceived...." The darkness surged against the cape again, and Lerinon felt as if four walls were pressing hard on them, suffocating them, threatening to crush them. He could hardly breathe, "You...will....not....die...this...day......if fading be thine greatest fear...... reject it...... fade not...... all would expect you...to perish... hither......" "Death....be....mine...doom.......beyond...thy...Crown......the...dream...foretold...." "The...dream....lies!......it...is....false....." Sounds of shrill screaming, weeping, and anger, came from beyond the cape. Lerinon whipped it back. Healers were aiding the Mirkwood guards, placing heated compresses as Melimwe tried to bark orders from his haze of terror. The compresses were of cloth wrapped around athelas leaves and heated in boiling pots. The healers labored as fast as haste would take them, according to Malchon and Melimwe's specifications. They concentrated on healing Melimwe first, for Melimwe had seen it all before, when Auruiron was attacked, the estel va atalante. But this time, they were prepared, and fortunate that much athelas was stored within the Halls. The poison was drawn to the surface and gagged, and vomited into the compresses, which absorbed them with a slight golden aura. Malchon tended to Lerinon and Dairlingul personally. The healers and others who had not ingested the accursed bile then aided the recovering trauma victims, carrying them to their chambers, where they might be watched and receive further treatment. More than half the room had drank the laced wine. Some had not reached the capes in time. Some had been lost in nightmares. Edited by Ioristion, Jun 15 2016, 07:40 PM.
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| Ioristion | Jun 15 2016, 09:01 PM Post #114 |
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Chapter LI: The Bile Assault When Macilon had yelled, many reacted, some climbing across the feasting table, others reaching to the side, others darting across the room, to reach for and grab a fold of a blessed cape. Cellindien stood still in horror, then immediately turned to seek out Macil. Her golden cloak hung from her shoulders and despite it's protection she felt a wave of illness and fear. Hands seized her cape, preventing her from moving. "Macil!" Macil felt a tide of hands grasp his cloak. Darkness grew and flowed between him and Cellindien. Macil shouted, "Stand tall against the darkness! Stand tall!" Inheroth did not notice the commotion of the feasting Hall. He fell to his knees at the encroaching darkness, and felt a unspeakable terror grip his heart, unlike any other he had faced previously. The dark choked him, and when it receded he looked back, and saw not Fahnraen at his side but the outline of a tall Silver-haired Elf facing away from him. The Elf held a sword, and seemed to be in the midst of battle; the roar of war around them was defeaning. The Elf tried to parry a blow, when suddenly he too was knocked down, only a few feet from Inheroth, who gasped loudly at the fair visage of his once-King Oropher. The Sindarin Lord's face was scrapped and mottled, and blood was beginning to stain his star-lit hair, yet still he struggled to rise to his feet. Inheroth made to crawl towards him, but his hands and legs felt weighted; he looked down and realized with horror that he was in a bog, and sinking. They were both sinking. The stench of rot filled his nostrils and Inheroth gagged, and held out a hand to the struggling Oropher. "My King," he cried out, but Oropher did not heed him, and when he turned to gaze upon Inheroth it was not his face, it was Thinfiligon's, and then it was Agarwaenor's, and then Lerinon's. "Run," the many-faced phantasm whispered to him, but Inheroth could not move, the mire was dragging him under even as he thrashed against it, and then the face changed once more into one fair and terrible all at once. The sapphire eyes gleamed with triumph, and it laughed, "Run, little Elfling," and Inheroth was pulled under the murky waters and could breathe no more. |
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| Ioristion | Jun 15 2016, 09:47 PM Post #115 |
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Chapter LII: The Mass Healing The healers of Dorwinion dispersed, bearing the sickened Elves into several larger chambers, requesting that the capes be used by as many Elves as possible, and some were tended faster than others. Then they were further carried back to their chambers to recover. The healers labored long into the night and into the dawn and night again. Lerinon had gasped that Inheroth should be brought to the chamber of the King and healed in his presence. Several days passed and many Elves had suffered from terrible dreams. But the influence of the bile waned, seeping into the sacred athelas leaves, the powers of the capes themselves fulfilling the role that Macalaure's augmented voice had played in Auruiron's own healing years before. Auruiron could not believe that he had fallen for it again. It was now April 7th. The bile's influence had passed them through, and the cruel darkness had finally abated. Lerinon barked the order that any traces of the bile should be destroyed. He summoned the King's Guard, instituting the four former Mirkwood guards within it, and then commanded that all the higher lords of court be questioned, including Dairlingul most of all. Macil awoke from the first untroubled sleep he had had in over a week. He turned to Cellindien, "It is mid-morning........ are you well?" She was sitting nearby, wrapped closely in the golden cloak. She nodded slowly. "Hale enough, but shamed. And you, my love?" Macil rubbed his eyes, his eyes welling in deep pools of the pupils of his grief, "We were gravely deceived..... why are we not fleeing from this realm...... what do Auruiron and Lerinon seek to accomplish by remaining here...." He wondered aloud. "We are truly at war," Cellindien replied quietly. "We cannot flee now. Let us see to it that the next battle ends more firmly in our favor." Macil nodded, "At least none of us have died. But we fell straight for it.............. the former Silver King betrayed us. I have my sword near at hand in case we need to fight our way out of here........And yet..... the healers have healed us...... which is not behavior befitting traitors.......... I wonder if we were all merely deceived......." Cellindien sighed. "There is nothing 'mere' about it. We should have been more careful, all of us." Macil deeply sighed, "That Silver King..... we were most unwise, to put it mildly...... he offers us his hospitality, with open arms, he waits to even meet us until the following day, he crowns our brother, who is the worst possible person to desire for a ruler, and then he treats us all royally, and bestows a high feast upon us? Oh Cellindien.........." Cellindien shook her head, then laughed quietly. "You never fear to speak what others only think." Macil approached her for the first time since the feast, and rested himself beside her, embracing her. She opened her arms to him as he approached, sharing in his embrace. |
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| Ioristion | Jun 15 2016, 10:58 PM Post #116 |
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Chapter LIII: A King Recovers Lerinon paced to and fro in the King's Chambers. His stomach still felt numb from the effects of the bile. He turned to Inheroth, "Deceived...... how we deceived with such ease......" Inheroth watched Lerinon with little change in his expression. Though he was well rested, his limbs still felt sore, and his head ached slightly with the faint memory of the foul nightmares he had been plagued with. He did not want to plague his King with worries, however, and did not give voice to such complaints. Instead he shrugged. "None of us could have foreseen what came to pass. The deed is done, and it is no less surprising now than it was then. You musn't blame yourself, or anyone in our company..." He signed softly, and ducked his head, his hair briefly shadowing his look of exhaustion. "What are you going to do, gwador?" he whispered at last. Lerinon grunted, "You are too forgiving. I have slighted thy brother, his worst nightmare... And blindly ignored all the signs..... the old Sage was right. Dairlingul had sent me to him to hear the words of the prophecy directly from the mouth who first uttered them. But while I do not believe that this old man was involved in the plot.... I do believe that he knew of it, somehow, he must have! He told me that he had exiled himself.... I presume that Guldrambor's deceptions of the Elves was the reason why now. How daft were we! The Silver King gave us his hospitality with ease, he crowned me with such haste, he....... Malchon is interrogating him now. We will await his report...." Inheroth frowned deeply, the gesture emphasizing the darkness of his eyes. "You did what you thought was right," he said flatly, "as you have ever done, and I have never known a King to apologize for his decrees. And even if you had taken note of the strangeness of the Silver-King's actions...why...has not every step of this journey hence been one of strangeness and wonder?" He wandered over to a plush chair, and sank down into it with a gentle, grateful sigh. "I wonder what he shall say to Malchon. I never once suspected him of any sort of treachery. I would have told you if I had....as would any of us, I imagine. So then, he must have been doing what he thought was right as well." Inheroth rubbed at his temples. "Everyone is well again; that is what is important." "Is it well?" Lerinon glared. "Your brother despises me..............I do not blame him........." Inheroth looked up at Lerinon with a pained look. "I fear he is mostly angry at me. It will pass, as all such things do. You have named him your Herald, and he will perform his duties, if that is what you feared. Come, gwador...no King is adored by all of his subjects. This is a fact of ruling. You must be strong now; that strength will see thine people heal." Lerinon stammered, "Strength?! I am a coward, and you know it, gwador.... you know it truly, most of all........ Do you not know? Adar..... Auruiron.... has exiled me. I can never return, when all of this is over........ I have gained a strange home in a strange land to rule most strangely....... and have lost the way I lived." Inheroth stood swiftly, and crossed the floor until he all but crowded Lerinon. "This is what you wanted!" he said, voice steady and stern. "And now this Kingdom is yours. Perhaps it is not truly in the manner that you desired, but the deed is done, and now you are responsible for the safety and the happiness of all folk that dwell hither. So yes, you must be strong, despite your doubts. And..." he took Lerinon's hands in his own, pressing them warmly together. "Your father is - was - angry. Perhaps that has always existed between you both; for you are a child of two worlds, and he cannot understand that. You should speak to him, and soothe thy wounds. Words can be more potent a balm as any poultice. But you must try." Lerinon nodded grimly, whipping his cape around himself in a flourish, "Forgive me, gwador........ you do not deserve such harshness.....tell me. Why are you so devoted to me and my cause? What good will it do for you?" Inheroth blinked slowly at Lerinon. "I did not help you escape from Mirkwood and stay at your side for any reward, Lerinon." He furrowed his brow. "Perhaps it is that...it is no secret that I have always wished for there to be a closer bond between our families, but we were torn apart through ancient pains. If I could preserve the family of Elu Thingol, of Dior....nay...it is not just that. If I could prevent such pain from tearing your family asunder, I would do so, for you are my family now. You, and Auruiron, and Agarwaenor, and all of our companions on this long and strange journey. The love between family cannot be so easily explained, but it is there, and I would not go against it, not when my heart tells me that it is true. And because you are alone now, and none deserve to stand against the world alone." Lerinon whipped his cape around them both, embracing Inheroth closely, deeply kissing him on his left-cheek, slowly and gracefully, and then he said, "And for that.... I am forever in your debt..... gwador......" Inheroth returned the embrace warmly, and thought back to the night where they had last been so close, on the eaves of the Dorwinion Forest, and his eyes misted. They had not known what would come to pass then. All was now changed. "There is no debt," he said softly, and it sounded like a fierce promise strongly meant. Edited by Ioristion, Jun 16 2016, 11:31 AM.
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| Ioristion | Jun 16 2016, 11:30 AM Post #117 |
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Chapter LIV: The Interrogation Malchon had entered the chamber of the former King earlier in the day. Dairlingul lay upon his place of rest, marred with sorrow, his silver hair flowing down his shoulders and back. "My lord....." "Who calls for the once and horrid King?" "Sit and face me." Dairlingul obeyed, "You... are one of our Silver King's new Guardselves?" Malchon nodded, "The Golden King seeks answers...." "As a prudent King should." "Let us begin with your name..." Dairlingul's tale began in full. He had been born Dair, the Great, in Doriath long ago. "Are you Daeron?" Malchon asked. "Nay... Daeron was lost before my birth. I am the age of our King." Malchon nodded, "Very well. Now tell me, how the 'lingul' became added to your name, for it is a strange name for an Elven-King." Dairlingul nodded, "The being came into our lands long ago, in the days of my lord-father's Kingship, before his fading. This Amanuiron seemed young, feminine and masculine, his eyes gleaming. His cape was long and golden, but unlike our King's cloak, it was lined with fiery red. He appeared more lordly than my father. He outspread his cape vast and wide and bowed before us, declaring himself an Emissary of the Valar. My father, the King, wished to bid him to depart these lands, for we had refused the call of the West, but many were so awe-struck, including ourselves, that we spoke not against him! And so Amanuiron gave us deep dreams of vast places, dreams of great lordship, and of the unification of our kindreds, the First and Second-born. We aided him, we learned of his dwelling place along the southeastern shores of Rhun. He bade us namarie and maneuvered across the East, as he told us later." Malchon nodded, "And so he returned." Dairlingul nodded grimly, his stomach paining him again, from the fell memory of the bile: "Yes. He returned and declared himself quite a following among the Easterlings. He claimed it was his Quest to restore the Men of Darkness to the light. He gave us the dark liquid, claiming it was a balm to aid our dream-craft, but that I would have a dream first, and the dream must be fulfilled before we drink from casks that now lie dormant in our under-caves. Our King should destroy them quickly! Our attendants know where they are hidden..." Malchon nodded, "The order will be given. Now tell me of the dream." Dairlingul sighed sadly, "I dreamed..... that there was a great light from the West, meeting a great light from the East... I saw Lerinon, our King, in all his glory and beauty, I saw me crowning him..... I saw him drink the wine with the bile, and wondrous light fill our halls, light as bright as the Silmaril of King Dior!" Malchon nodded, again, "And did you see Lerinon as a child in your days of youth?" Dairlingul nodded, "Yes, I did, from afar. I can imagine that he is Elurin, I believe it so! And who am I to dispute his claim over our people? King Thranduil may be beautiful and wise, and I have labored with him in trade, among many other traders hither in Dorwinion, Edainic and Elvish, but know also this: the splintering of our people has not been beneficial to our people in the long-run. Why must it be that we are scattered across Mirkwood, Dorwinion, and the Anduin Vales? We need one King, and his name is Lerinon. But.... I fear that Lerinon can do little at present. The other lords of Dorwinion have different realms, not under our sovereignty, and Thranduil will never bend the knee, nor will other Lords of the Sindar." Malchon nodded, "It is enough for us to bend the knee, for now. I believe our King still struggles with the notion of ruling, but I am aiding him....... and so must you. You have done it for centuries. Was this territory much larger?" Dairlingul nodded, "Nominally, our realm extends to the borders of Dorwinion, but self-rule has been a central living condition for most of the Silvan and Nandorin folk, and for we few Sindarin lords, we cannot harm the natural cycle of living through which these folk have lived for thousands upon thousands of years. To behave as mortal Kings behave would result in another diaspora, Elves fleeing this realm for other realms, and it would do no good. If anything unifies this realm, it is the production and consumption of fine wines. This alone has kept our realm famed throughout the world. We hunt, but sparingly, for our flora and our fauna have natural cycles that must not be hindered. For every stag we slay and dine upon, another must be born. Such is the way of things.... and for our clothing, we trade heavily with the Edain, who know those crafts far more, for we prefer the garb of nobility over the rustic garb of the wilderness." Malchon smiled, "I can certainly understand. So the silks and velvets flow from Rhun and the Edainic Realm of Eir. This, I comprehend. Where did Amanuiron go when he left the second time, after which the Sage Sindri warned you thus of your dream?" Dairlingul frowned, "I do not know. He did not say. Beware of him! I know now that he is naught but a Golden Serpent who has shed much innocent blood! He deceived us..... my lords and I..... we believed every word that came forth from his slithering tongue. He was magnificent...... but foul underneath. I understand this now. He likely maintains his fair guise. Sindri had warned me! But I did not listen..... the beauty of this so-called Emissary had entranced me so.....I had taken him into my highest confidence..... we even rested together.........it was he who named me Dairlingul..." Malchon nodded sadly, "Such are his ways, from all I had heard: his arts of deception. The bile will be destroyed. I, for my part, will tell our King all that you have told me. As for the rest, it remains to be seen.....do you wish to return to your former name?" Dairlingul shook his head, "No, for I have gravely erred, and this name will ever remind me of that error. I have a Great Song of Sorcery of my own.............." Edited by Ioristion, Jun 16 2016, 11:32 AM.
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| Ioristion | Jun 16 2016, 11:31 AM Post #118 |
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Chapter LV: Toward the Realm Malchon returned with Lerinon and Inheroth, who regarded Dairlingul silently. Lerinon outspread his golden cape and bowed. Malchon blushed. Lerinon declared, "We have heard thine tale...... Dairlingul....... I name thee the Silver Prince, that you may retain your graces. Tell me now. You are certain that you do not know in which direction Amanuiron has maneuvered?" Dairlingul nodded, "I am not certain. My King, did you give the order to destroy the bile?" Lerinon nodded, "The healers are seeing to it as we speak. Now..... how shall we proceed?" Dairlingul smiled, "Tour the portion of the realm over which you still maintain direct sovereignty. This is all that will matter to your reign directly. As for the rest of Dorwinion, it will live-on, with its own squabbles and cycles of life and living. Concern yourself with your most immediate subjects. The rest may not recognize your sovereignty. But your most immediate subjects -must- respect my decision to abdicate the Crown to you. Then, hold a proper Coronation, inviting all throughout this realm. Then, once the Realm supports you, then, and only then, send scouts to southeastern Rhun, to see if Amanuiron still dwells in the cavern system in which I visited him once..." Malchon folded his arms, "So, you visited him, in between his visits to Dorwinion?" Dairlingul nodded sadly, "I did.......... I know where he once dwelt. Whether or not he returned there, I do not know, for he had spoken to me of serving as Emissary across the Sea." Lerinon folded his golden cloak in his arms, as it trailed behind him in piles of billowing folds of molten-gold hues of silk, "Yes...... we will scout his home first, be it current or former, and then we will see what we shall do." Dairlingul gazed at his King sternly, "Send scouts first, and not thine entire Company, and certainly not thine army, for a large force would alert our foe to our arrival. It is better to surprise him than to announce our march." Lerinon nodded solemnly, "Yes. Stand up, it is time to tour the Realm. Inheroth, tell your brother to take charge in our absence." Dairlingul deeply smiled, his eyes glistening. Edited by Ioristion, Jun 16 2016, 11:46 AM.
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| Ioristion | Jun 16 2016, 12:15 PM Post #119 |
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Chapter LVI: Northeastern Dorwinion The Sea of Rhun bent east and west. At its western point, before it bent south, the informal border arose, surging north, till it reached the second-to-last bend in the River, before flowing into the Sea. The River served as a northern border, save for the Edainic colonies, that hugged the southern shores of the River nigh its flow into the lagoon. Lerinon, Inheroth, Dairlingul, and Malchon, journeyed with Fareon, Caranor, and Calemir. Amarchon remained behind begrudgingly with Hallothanar to assist Agarwaenor in the Halls. "You have done it this time, brother," Fareon had stammered. They made their way through the narrow forest that framed the cliffs. The trees towered high. It would take several folk to ring around each tree-trunk. Their canopy surged high above the forest floor. Black squirrels, white-tailed bucks and fawns, and great white stags, made their way through the forest. An old, weathered Elven road twisted and turned through the forest. On the lower branches of the trees, flets had been built, and some flet-towns surged above their heads, lit by crystalline lamps carved by the Naugrim of the south. Spiraling staircases wove around the tree-trunks to reach the flet-towns. There were even several cities. They visited each one. Proclamations had already been sent by messengers. The Elven-folk of each town and city came out into the streets, bowing to their new King, and revering their former King. "They respect you because they respect me," Dairlingul whispered. And Dairlingul gave the same great speech in each place they visited, a speech that would ever conclude with the lines: "Citizens of Dorwinion.......... I have ruled and served you for many long centuries, as you are aware. I have done everything in my power to keep this realm safe. The Prophecy had been proclaimed throughout the land when I received it. Now see the Prophecy fulfilled." Lerinon had been instructed to provide them with only one key line: "As the Silver King served, protected, and aided this realm, so shall I serve, and protect, and aid you!" And flowers had rained upon them, they ate at many high feasts, and were saluted by many guards. It was an endless sea of mirth and adulation. Lerinon would process throughout each place, Inheroth, Malchon, and Calemir upholding his cape reverently, outspreading it far with magnificence, so that the eyes of many an ellon and elleth would find themselves bedazzled in the awe and splendour of their new Golden King. If the Age of Telperion had ended, then the Age of Laurelin had began, in the Silver Realm. If any opposed Lerinon's ascendancy, they kept silent, and did not come out of their homes to see him. "You will always face opposition," Dairlingul counseled, "No matter what you may do. You will have to be content that they obey the Laws of the Realm." Lerinon ever nodded in agreement. Each place had a specific purpose. Some Elves wove the silken thread sent-over by the Edain in exchange for wine. Others served as vintners and harvested the overripe grapes, squishing them into a fine liquid, and allowing them to ferment over time. They visited many vineyards, grown and maintained in great lands of sprawling hills, vast and wide, between the far western and far eastern fringe-forests of the trees, where the sun would shine upon them. Lerinon would often laugh as Inheroth could not help himself at every wine-tasting. When they drank the wine, they drank it slowly, deeply, and reverently, for each vintage was of a high quality, and of varying tastes, from sweet to velvety. Lerinon never found much opposition among the vineyard farmers. One farmer had said, "Aye, that is the sign: if the King cherishes and respects each glass, then he is good and wise." It took them seven days to tour the Realm, because they stayed and celebrated in each town and city, and they had visited as many vineyards as possible. They also toured the guard-flets among the deep-green canopy, and gained the reverence and respect of many of the soldiers, the indifference of others, and the inward hostility of few. Dairlingul advertised the Coronation ceremony, to be held, on the fifteenth of April, and all were invited. Per Dairlingul's usual policy, no one would be forced to attend royal events. He only wanted his willing supporters anyway. "Remember," Dairlingul had counseled, "There are still many more throughout Dorwinion who will never recognize thine reign........ With this, thine must remain content. For the slaying or bitter cruel punishment is known only among the mortals of this land......... I remember the Kinslaying of Doriath, how awful it was.......... I do not wish for it ever to happen again." Lerinon nodded, "Know that my family took part in the affairs of the Feanorians, my foster-family, but also know that they ultimately opposed each Kinslaying." Dairlingul nodded, "I had gleamed a Noldorin lineage among several of them........ let them not boast of their deeds in the First Age, be they virtuous or otherwise, for many in this Realm had fled from the contrivances of the followers of Feanor." Lerinon nodded in agreement. In time, they returned to the Halls, where not much had changed. The bile had already been disposed of safely. When they returned to the King's Chambers, it was the 14th of April, and Lerinon had deeply embraced and kissed his cape-bearers, brothers, and Dairlingul, on their cheeks, and they all rested for a time beneath Lerinon and Fareon's blessed cloaks, slowly and gently rejuvenating them. Edited by Ioristion, Feb 1 2018, 09:38 PM.
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| Ioristion | Jun 16 2016, 12:19 PM Post #120 |
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Chapter LVII: The Father and his King Auruiron had wept for days. He wept for what Faeleth might think of all of it. She was ever kind and forgiving of all his flaws. He wept for the rift between newly-crowned son and himself. Melimwe had comforted him the best he could. But he and Melimwe remained secluded in their rooms. Husbands had remained with their wives, and they behaved as they ever behaved. The Company was at rest. When Lerinon returned, he rested with his followers, till he finally worked-up the courage to seek-out his father in the late-evening. He knocked pensively on Auruiron's door. Melimwe opened it, "Oh........ listen to me. It may be possible to end this rift between you two. Know that while your intentions may have been all well and good, you still managed to gravely insult your father, causing all of this misery." Lerinon entered sorrowfully and stared at his father hunched-over, his gold draping behind him, pale in the moon and starlight. Auruiron turned, and deeply embraced his son, who warmly returned his embrace. They held their embrace, weeping, for what seemed an eternity. |
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12:44 AM Jul 11