Lihan Taifun
Sérenen, Maia of the house of Námo, searches for his lord's sister, Nienna. If any elven eyes had been present, they would see only a rippling of the dim light, for he moves in his native spirit form, as suits a servant in the Halls of the Dead. The dead percieve with senses of the spirit, not with physical eyes, and need not even the illusion-projections that Ainur often use when dealing with the living.
He finds Nienna near her home, night-dark Fui, on the bleak western shore of the Blessed Lands, walking as she often does on the rocky coast of the endless Outer Sea. And is astonished to see her in full physical bodily form. Spray from the crashing waves dampens the lower edges of her silver-grey cloak. She makes music, as she often does, but now using a physical object to generate the sounds -- a small harp, such as the Vanyar use. The tune is a familiar, haunting lament, but the instrument limits the music to a few notes at a time, a pitiful shadow of the full and rich music an Ainu could generate by directly manipulating the air into sound waves. He knows Nienna could make better music than this! Yet she appears quite unconcerned. Perhaps, he dares to think, she seems pleased with the sound of the instrument.
Certainly it is not his place to comment on her ladyship's eccentricities.
Rippling and floating to place himself in front of her, he greets her with a mental intention of respect. Her perception is, to his relief, not limited by physical form. Her answering mental intention of pleased recognition is mirrored by an upward turn of her physical lips.
Nienna looks up from the music practice her teacher, King Ingwë of the Vanyar, has set her.
"My Lady"
He finds Nienna near her home, night-dark Fui, on the bleak western shore of the Blessed Lands, walking as she often does on the rocky coast of the endless Outer Sea. And is astonished to see her in full physical bodily form. Spray from the crashing waves dampens the lower edges of her silver-grey cloak. She makes music, as she often does, but now using a physical object to generate the sounds -- a small harp, such as the Vanyar use. The tune is a familiar, haunting lament, but the instrument limits the music to a few notes at a time, a pitiful shadow of the full and rich music an Ainu could generate by directly manipulating the air into sound waves. He knows Nienna could make better music than this! Yet she appears quite unconcerned. Perhaps, he dares to think, she seems pleased with the sound of the instrument.
Certainly it is not his place to comment on her ladyship's eccentricities.
Rippling and floating to place himself in front of her, he greets her with a mental intention of respect. Her perception is, to his relief, not limited by physical form. Her answering mental intention of pleased recognition is mirrored by an upward turn of her physical lips.
Nienna looks up from the music practice her teacher, King Ingwë of the Vanyar, has set her.
"My Lady"
"What news, my friend?"
"A most strange occurance at the Halls of Mandos today, my Lady. Lord Námo thought you should hear of it. A spirit -- an Elda -- appeared at the gateway. But only briefly, and vanished again."
"Not that unusual," Nienna interrupts. "The Eldar are hardy, and often recover from the gravest wounds, even from the very brink of death."
"Indeed, my lady. But I have not come to the strange part of the tale. He cried out, saying he did not belong here, that he should not be here ..."
Again Nienna interrupts, smiling, "That really is a very common reaction, in the newly dead."
"Indeed, my lady," replies Sérenen with a touch of impatience. "But this one cried out to Tilion. Not to High King Manwë, nor to Ulmo and Ossë and Uinen, like a drowning sailor, nor to you, Lady of Compassion. To Tilion, lord of the Moon! Have you ever heard of such a thing?"
"No. No indeed. You are right, tis strange. Tilion ... why, he is always busy tending the Moon. He seldom even speaks to the Children. He hardly has time. Though he did follow Melian's example, and take an Elda lover ... oh no ..." A terrible suspicion creeps upon Nienna. "Who was this Elda? Do you know?"
"I do not, my lady. As I said, he was only on our doorstep for a moment. I can show you what he looked like." He transmits a mental image of the visitor.
"Oh dear, that is indeed King Olwë! What happened? Something happened to him! No," she continues thoughtfully, "you wouldn't know. Only that he is not dead yet. I do hope Irmo and I are not too late. We must get to the Teleri soon. ... Thank you. This is indeed important news."
His message delivered, Sérenen makes another mental intention of respect, and swirls back to the Halls of Mandos.
Nienna remains in thought for a while. Time is shorter than she realized. The mischances of the world are many, and the world grows more and more dangerous. She had not previously considered that the Teleri king might be killed before she and Irmo arrived. They must leave soon, on their visit. She heads back toward her home, intending then to find and speak to her brother. Walking, physically walking to practice her physical body.
The harp is left, forgotten on a rock of the shoreline. That is a problem with physical possessions: one has to remember where one left them. It is one more lesson to be learned.
> The news spreads > Nienna and Irmo continue their plans