Validriel
25-09-2007, 06:12
With her eyes not yet opened, Validriel could feel the heavy mist cling to her face, then collect into droplets and slip down her cheeks like tender tears. She touched her thumb to moist fingertips, and then felt the dampness of her hair slide against an ear as she turned her head slightly. To each side she heard rivulets of falling water, tumbling over stone, gathering into pools. In the distance, she heard the low, ponderous crash of greater torrents, spilling over waterfalls.
The corners of her lips turned upward and formed the slightest smile. From far across the ages, she’d arrived.
With her head tipped back, the elf-maid slowly opened her eyes. Through the blur of water droplets she could see the last of the setting sun to the west and night sky toward the east, the black of it turned purple by the smoky glow of a million tiny sparks of starlight – some huddled closely together, others with distance enough between that they could be counted one by one.
She paused in the moment, and the moment paused back. And a quiet peace filled her heart — as those gentle nighttime rays chased away the last of the daytime, and filled her with a certain knowledge that from the time before time the Queen had intended this blessing for those like her, with a purity of heart.
Minutes passed, or perhaps hours — there was no accounting for time in this place of mist and starlight. But, with its passage, the time began to quicken and, casting her gaze to her left, Validriel saw arising from the north a Darkening – a black veil that began at the horizon and slowly slipped skyward behind the stars. And as it did, she saw that the stars nearest to it… they trembled.
And the trembling became a dread, and the dread began to fill her. And then she heard from across an expanse of water the sound of an equal dread, passed as it was from the lips of many Quendi gathered on the far shore — the minyanmici Minnómar, the first from amongst the Firstborn — their starlit faces also turned toward the heavens, watching with the same concern this Darkening. Her gaze followed theirs, and then she saw the Darkness halt and stand its ground, as if to survey what sky remained and boast of the certainty of its conquest. And still other stars trembled.
But not all. For from beyond the horizon to the west came the peal of a bell, but yet not… the note of a song, but yet not… the call of a mother to her children, but yet not…
“Aiya Menelmacar, tirno tulca Elenardassë!” it rang out. And Validriel’s eyes widened, at first from her own familiarity with those very words – the first line of the twelve-line prayer she’d known her entire life, here now uttered as if for its first time, as if by its first speaker. And her eyes grew still wider as she stood in awe as a great star-bespeckled warrior rose from the southern sky after the command and lifted high his mighty blade, as the imperative “á leyla veryavë, ar otalya cenya falquan” resounded.
She caught her own breath, as the Quendi across the water gasped as well, and their hearts lept as the Darkness shuddered… and retreated. But the marvel was not yet ended.
Again from the west came a call like a trumpet: “Aiya Helluin!” And from directly overhead one of the stars stood forth, and shone forth with such intensity that its sisters across the heavens were bathed in its blueness, and glints of its rays poured down upon the waters of Cuivienen, and became sparkles from within each of the ripples of the waters on the ground, and sparkles from within each misty droplet splashing through the air. And so all around her the water reflected the mighty star’s light as countless prisms, and that light fused itself with the waters, and became their blessing.
The elves, as one, sang words of praise — invented then and there as their answer to the Ancient’s surpassing kindnesses and protections.
And what fear had overtaken Validriel was washed away by the sparkling droplets. She knelt out of respect for what she’d witnessed, and a warm night breeze passed across the waters and wrapt itself around her, and she closed her eyes to feel it tease the water splashed upon her face.
When Validriel reopened her eyes, she knelt no longer on stone at that water’s edge, but in a field of tall grass… and bright sunlight spilled upon the earth about her, and the great tower Elostirion stood in the distance.
She’d returned to her own age.
And, with a deep breath, the last tingly taste of lissë nyérë faded from her tongue.
She longed to return. But she sensed its impossibility. Such journeys, once taken, are naught to be repeated, but point instead their way toward still other inward journeys. She returned once more the stalk of small, white blossoms to her mallyrn-leaf pouch. And what void she felt in her heart, left from that place of water and starlight, she tried humbly to fill. Slowly, quietly, she whispered the dozen lines of Quenya to herself once more… the thousandth time in as many seasons since her youth… thinking nonetheless as she prayed: “sweet sorrow, indeed.”
The corners of her lips turned upward and formed the slightest smile. From far across the ages, she’d arrived.
With her head tipped back, the elf-maid slowly opened her eyes. Through the blur of water droplets she could see the last of the setting sun to the west and night sky toward the east, the black of it turned purple by the smoky glow of a million tiny sparks of starlight – some huddled closely together, others with distance enough between that they could be counted one by one.
She paused in the moment, and the moment paused back. And a quiet peace filled her heart — as those gentle nighttime rays chased away the last of the daytime, and filled her with a certain knowledge that from the time before time the Queen had intended this blessing for those like her, with a purity of heart.
Minutes passed, or perhaps hours — there was no accounting for time in this place of mist and starlight. But, with its passage, the time began to quicken and, casting her gaze to her left, Validriel saw arising from the north a Darkening – a black veil that began at the horizon and slowly slipped skyward behind the stars. And as it did, she saw that the stars nearest to it… they trembled.
And the trembling became a dread, and the dread began to fill her. And then she heard from across an expanse of water the sound of an equal dread, passed as it was from the lips of many Quendi gathered on the far shore — the minyanmici Minnómar, the first from amongst the Firstborn — their starlit faces also turned toward the heavens, watching with the same concern this Darkening. Her gaze followed theirs, and then she saw the Darkness halt and stand its ground, as if to survey what sky remained and boast of the certainty of its conquest. And still other stars trembled.
But not all. For from beyond the horizon to the west came the peal of a bell, but yet not… the note of a song, but yet not… the call of a mother to her children, but yet not…
“Aiya Menelmacar, tirno tulca Elenardassë!” it rang out. And Validriel’s eyes widened, at first from her own familiarity with those very words – the first line of the twelve-line prayer she’d known her entire life, here now uttered as if for its first time, as if by its first speaker. And her eyes grew still wider as she stood in awe as a great star-bespeckled warrior rose from the southern sky after the command and lifted high his mighty blade, as the imperative “á leyla veryavë, ar otalya cenya falquan” resounded.
She caught her own breath, as the Quendi across the water gasped as well, and their hearts lept as the Darkness shuddered… and retreated. But the marvel was not yet ended.
Again from the west came a call like a trumpet: “Aiya Helluin!” And from directly overhead one of the stars stood forth, and shone forth with such intensity that its sisters across the heavens were bathed in its blueness, and glints of its rays poured down upon the waters of Cuivienen, and became sparkles from within each of the ripples of the waters on the ground, and sparkles from within each misty droplet splashing through the air. And so all around her the water reflected the mighty star’s light as countless prisms, and that light fused itself with the waters, and became their blessing.
The elves, as one, sang words of praise — invented then and there as their answer to the Ancient’s surpassing kindnesses and protections.
And what fear had overtaken Validriel was washed away by the sparkling droplets. She knelt out of respect for what she’d witnessed, and a warm night breeze passed across the waters and wrapt itself around her, and she closed her eyes to feel it tease the water splashed upon her face.
When Validriel reopened her eyes, she knelt no longer on stone at that water’s edge, but in a field of tall grass… and bright sunlight spilled upon the earth about her, and the great tower Elostirion stood in the distance.
She’d returned to her own age.
And, with a deep breath, the last tingly taste of lissë nyérë faded from her tongue.
She longed to return. But she sensed its impossibility. Such journeys, once taken, are naught to be repeated, but point instead their way toward still other inward journeys. She returned once more the stalk of small, white blossoms to her mallyrn-leaf pouch. And what void she felt in her heart, left from that place of water and starlight, she tried humbly to fill. Slowly, quietly, she whispered the dozen lines of Quenya to herself once more… the thousandth time in as many seasons since her youth… thinking nonetheless as she prayed: “sweet sorrow, indeed.”