Olwë is Found -- A Terrible Price is Revealed

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Coming out of the woodland, Olwe finds a clearing and looks out over a land that looks familiar. He squints his eyes and peers around the moonlit vista.  The breeze is chilly, but the air smells crisp and clean, with the bite of salt water.  He steps out into the moonlight clearing and cautiously looks around.  This, this looks familiar.  It is neither Alqualonde or Tol Eressea, but he should know this place.  It is nearly as dear, but his mind refuses to supply him with the reason.  He licks dry lips and keeps his bow on his back,  but his hands are free to unsheathe a dagger on his armband if needed.  He took those blades from  the orc he encountered some nighs ago.  He thinks it was an orc.  The hands he kept as trophies. Olwe passes flowers that are a otherworldly purple and shudders.  His eyes, though, fastened on the water.  Clean, clear water!....He hurries over and bending down, cups handfuls of water and slakes his thirst.

Aloyisius, Comet's owl flaps and lands on her shoulder. Comet Quijote is startled but takes a message from his pouch.  A message from the old wizard is sceawled in his wavery hand, "King Olwe has been seen wandering near the Nightmare's Tears on Tari."  Comet Quijote calls to her guards nearby to search for him, immediately. "When he is found, he must be taken to the clerics hall."  Elsewhere in Sylvahara, Daza Mistwalker hears a terrible chattering from some nightengales and wonders what all the fuss is about.

Slowly Powers Constantine approaches the king. "Greetings, Sire."

Olwe whirls around, a hand going for a dagger, but he pauses and stares hard at the two figures.  "You are familiar?"

Malakyte Thorne comes up. "King Olwe? Indeed we have met."

Powers Constantine: "I have met you many times. Sire, we are here to help."

Olwe looks from one to the other.  His brow furrows, and he backs up a steap when he sees more figures...."Halt!  Come no further!"  He looks at Powers.  "Yes, I have sen you before.  But you were not with ...with her...."

Daza Mistwalker sees the heavily armed elf and wonders. "Would you be King Olwe?"  Powers Constantine talks softly. "King Olwe, we offer you assistance."  Malakyte Thorne tilts her head, wondering who King Olwe referred to. She opens her mouth to speak but then hesitates as Daza speaks.

SnowBlind Infinity  walks up. "I know this one, he was here before, in the flowers, before Mala had enclosed them."  Powers Constantine continues. "I am you friend and will not harm you."  Just beyond the group, Comet, Queen of Sylvahara and her entourage, arrives.  "Ah," she says, "There he is." Talonia Moonshadow sneezes as she gives her nose a break. Comet Quijote pats Talonia.

Olwe brushes at his clothing and mutters something about "Spiders."  He look up again and considers Power.  "I think I remember you."  Powers Constantine smiles.."I have been by your side before."  Daza Mistwalker: "So...the high Teleri king has finally been found!"

Malakyte Thorne looks up at Queen Comet and looks around to make sure she has enough guards. Talonia Moonshadow grins and just stands back.  "Olwe, cousin?"  Comet Quijote places a hand on his arm.  Malakyte Thorne whispers:"He has not acknowleged the name yet.."

Olwe smiles back, then looks up at Daza and almost speaks but then sees a familar figure.  "Comet?"  He tears and his voice breaks..."Cousin?  Comet?" Comet Quijote embraces Olwe.  "Yes, it is I. I am so relieved...but.. You look so ill." Olwe holds her in a tight embraces and kisses her hair on the top of her hair.  "I was told you were dead.  I saw you die!" He pulls back and looks deep in to her eyes.   'Oh, Illuvatar.  My hear broke."  Malakyte Thorne blinks at his story; Queen Comet has been well all this time..

Powers Constantine puts himself between the King and the water.  Daza Mistwalker sighs in relief.  SnowBlind Infinity wonders how the King came to be by the shore and if we should escort him away from this dangerous place.  Talonia Moonshadow decides she did her good deed for the day and walks off.

Comet Quijote turns to Daza. "Daza, he has been exposed."  "Exposed?" She answers him, "He is in madness."  Powers Constantine looks at Mal, telling her that they needed to take the king to safety.  Malakyte Thorne nods to Powers but has no intention on forcing the king anywhere.

Olwe speaks: "It spoke to me, Cousin.  The darkness spoke."  Answers Comet Quijote: "I am well, as you see, cousin."

Olwe sudders.  "It said such things....showed me your broken body."

Comet Quijote: "Will you allow us to help you?" Malakyte Thorne studies the elf closely.  "Will you come with me?  It is not far."  Veronique Wellesley stands back, observing carefully to see if her skills are needed. Powers Constantine speaks softly.  "King Olwe , the Queen is very well and safe."

Olwe pauses and looks all around at the company gathered, then at his cousin.  "Of course I will go anywhere with you."  He smiles, dazzlingly at her.  Daza Mistwalker peers closely at the King and senses the odd and familiar presence and mutters rather annoyed "Nightmare's Tears."  Malakyte Thorne smiles softly and inwardly breathes a sigh of relief.  Comet Quijote turns to her people and gives them a look that says to aid her to get him away.

SnowBlind Infinity: "Lord Olwe, My Queen, we should leave this place, there is too much danger here."

Olwe looks down at the skelton hands on his belt.  "I had to ...to do things..."  his voice grows soft..." The enemy is coming."

Comet Quijote: "Come, beloved cousin."

Malakyte Thorne: "Yes, let us go."

Daza Mistwalker: "Yes...we are too close to the Trogan border."  Talonia Moonshadow whistles innocently.  Malakyte Thorne watches to make sure the king follows.  Olwe looks up. "Yes, let us get her to safety."  Faulkes stands aside. Comet Quijote whispers to Snow and Mala, "Make sure he follows me."

Powers Constantine: "Very good."

Malakyte Thorne: "Yes, we must help the queen." Talonia Moonshadow moves aside.

Daza Mistwalker nods  and to Olwe: "Yes...look after the queen, good king!"  Pixie Hammand takes her place at the side of the queen.

Powers Constantine: "King Olwe, please get out of the water."

Veronique Wellesley: "Perhaps you should have a mage to bring him thorugh a portal, My queen." Pixie Hammand looks with concern at the queen. "It would be faster and you'd be more assured of him reaching safety."

SnowBlind Infinity to Olwe: "Quickly, M'Lord."

The Teleri hears the word, "portal," and pulls up sharply. Olwe looks wildly about.  "No, no portals, not again!"

Daza Mistwalker: "Ahhh....the only mage here is me, and I'm a bit new at portalling others"

Veronique Wellesley looks from Daza to the Queen, "I think we need to be efficient here, if you are to keep your cousin safe.." She glances to Olwe.

Comet Quijote: "Daza, perhaps a portal to the cleric's hall for Olwe."

Daza Mistwalker: "Oh dear....okay, I'll try...I'm a bit new at trying to bring others through."

Olwe retreats a step.   "No, my place is by Comet's side.  No portal...that is how the voice found me.  I remember."

Daza Mistwalker contentrates his powers and then pauses.

Powers Constantine: "King Olwe, please take the Queen's hand then."

Olwe eyes Daza.  "You I do not know.  How know I you would not harm her?"

Comet Quijote: "Come, Olwe."

Powers Constantine: "Snow, get on his other side."

Daza Mistwalker: "Go with the queen then, and I will meet you there."
Olwe looks at his cousin.  'Know you this elf?  Know he will not ham thee?"

SnowBlind Infinity: "You are among supporters, Sire: let us make for the castle and be safe."

Daza Mistwalker gathers close and decides to try anyway and summons a portal of mist.  Olwe looks fierce and very protective of his cousin. "I cannot lose you again."

Veronique Wellesley reaches foward and touches Olwe's arm gently, her connection with her gods, allowing her to assess him briefly.

Comet Quijote: "Please, do not worry." Olwe reaches over and brushs something unseen off her skirt, muttering, "spiders, always spiders."

Faulkes thinks the King has changed a bit, and  not for the better.
Veronique Wellesley frowns, "WE must get him to safety.. and then perhaps Llyra and Malakyte can assess him."

Powers Constantine reassures the King..The Queen needs to get to the safety of the Clerics Guild..We all need to take her there." Talonia Moonshadow barks. Veronique Wellesley nods at Talonia

Olwe looks up and calmly then says...."Of course, beloved Cousin, let us go." He steps through.

Llyra Constantine turns, allowing the Salamander to slide off her arm and back into the flames. Her lips curve into a smile as several sets of their eyes peer from the relative safety of the fire. Waving them out of sight, she smiles slightly at the arrival. "Daza, seems the Guild is busy this evening"

Daza Mistwalker: "Yes...I'm trying to pull the king through the portal...there!"

Llyra Constantine blinks and steps back from the magics, "Olwe?" She whispers in shock. Varvara Yatsenko steps back watching in silence. 

Comet Quijote: Greetings Lady Llyra

Veronique Wellesley crosses the room toward Varvara, her own expression peaceful, as she maintains her communion ith the Lady and her Lord, sensing other problems in this place that mayhap she can deal with.

Comet Quijote: "King Olwe was found wandering in the woods near the Black Flowers."  Talonia Moonshadow scrathes at the door.  Veronique Wellesley glances from the Queen to Olwe in concern.

Comet Quijote: "I am afraid he has been exposed to them."

Llyra Constantine: "Duchess, if you would be so kind, Varvara needs assistance as well."  Veronique Wellesley opens the door for Talonia, then nods at Llyra and moves toward Varvara.  Varvara Yatsenko nods and smiles at Llyra with a broad smile.  Olwe looks around at the hall and then back to his cousin.  "I have been here before.  I remember."  He slowly looks over the room, his eyes taking it in, thoughtfully, and restlessly shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

Comet: "You have been here, not long ago. You were poisoned."

Daza Mistwalker sighs "I need to besure of what is in the King's system...I sense something VERY foul indeed."

Llyra Constantine looks steadily at Olwe. "Sire?" she asks softly. 
Veronique Wellesley reaches out to touch Varvara's arm gently, as if to get her attention, but uses the opportunity to assess her condition.

Comet Quijote: "Lord Daza, you will need to explain the terrible ordeal of the ritual to the king.  He must know what is involved."

Olwe: "Poisoned?"  He pauses...then whipsers..."the wine."

Llyra Constantine nods."Yes, Olwe, the wine. Several of us tried to help you."

Faulkes stands out side the door, and only picks up a few key words before trying to enter. He groans loudly.  Olwe looks from his cousin's face to survey the others, their faces.  Daza Mistwalker looks at Comet with deep concern "Indeed...he must be totally in his right mind in order to wiegh this carefully."  Veronique Wellesley nods in agreement with Daza's words.

Comet Quijote whispers, "But i fear he is mad.."

Llyra Constantine frowns at the restlessness the King displays, only ever having known peace from his spirit.  Olwe looks over at Daza and speaks slowly, as though his words are hard won.  'What must I know?"  His voice more like his own, more in control.

SnowBlind Infinity: "If there is no respite then how will he be sane enough to consider it?"

Daza Mistwalker shakes his head. "The cost of being set free is MOST high, oh Teleri king."

Comet Quijote: "Please see to it that he does not wander away." She looks meaningfully at the warriors and dragons. SnowBlind Infinity stands guard at the door. Faulkes, unseen behind Powers, chokes and nods. Varvara Yatsenko walks to the door and stands ready not to let anyone in or out.

Olwe's eyes widened.  "Set free.  She let me go.  Said she heard the voice, too.  But it lured her.  It  could not me."

Llyra Constantine grits her teeth as yet more magics enter the Hall. Rubbing her arms as the ache starts, she tries again. "Olwe, you have a poison in you, but I cannot help you alone. There is a ritual that must be followed." She speaks softly but clearly, hoping he recognises her voice. 

Veronique Wellesley 's eyes widen slightly, as she assesses Varvara's condition silently, and she sends a pulse of strengthening and sustaining power to her while she does so, then removes her hand, as Varvara crosses to guard the door.  Talonia Moonshadow sits in front of the two and just listens and watches.

Comet Quijote: "I will leave you with these good people, my cousin. Please know you are safe and in good hands."

Powers Constantine: "Good Night, Your Majesty."

Comet Quijote embraces Olwe again. Olwe takes a hand, so delicate, and brings it up to his lips. "Praise Eru you are safe."  Veronique Wellesley looks at the Queen and nods briefly, relieved to see her away.  Talonia Moonshadow barks a farewell.  Daza Mistwalker bows as the queen departs "Be well."

Comet Quijote: "I will return to see you again soon.  Farewell, all."

Olwe smiles warmly, his familar smile. "Please, yes, my sweet cousin."  He lets her hand go gently.

Quietly, she departs. Daza Mistwalker looks a bit pleadingly at Veronique and Llyra. "Perhaps there is something you can do to calm his mind so we can better explain what has happened and what must be done"

Veronique Wellesley looks at Llyra and places her hand over her heart, bowing slightly toward her, indicating she will follow her lead. Llyra Constantine: "He must allow it, Daza."

SnowBlind Infinity: "Perhaps for now some food and rest, then we can sort this out."

Olwe surveys the room and spies Llyra.  His troubled expression clears and he gives her a smile of open warmth.  His composure regain.  "Dear Lady!  How are you?"

Llyra Constantine's lips curve into a warm smile in return, "I thought you understood I was not to be called, Lady?" she teases, "Will you allow me to help you, Olwe?"

Faulkes speaks softly. "He cannot wait until the next Exquinox, Daza."

Olwe gives her a bow of respect. "I remember.  I do!  You saved my life. Thy sweet voice, your gentle power.  You did not let go when others would have."

Veronique Wellesley keeps a careful eye on Varvara's condition, as she watches Llyra interact with Olwe.

Daza Mistwalker: "I COULD dispel some of his confusion with majiks, I suppose."

Llyra Constantine nods. "I never let go, Sire." She walks towards him, careful to sidestep the flowing arcane magics.

Olwe blushes and smiles shyly.  "Not even one time?" His voice sounds less strained.

Varvara Yatsenko rolls her eyes as she sees Veronique's concern. Then she smiles at her and turns back watching the king.  Veronique Wellesley moves a bit closer to Olwe, mirroring Llyra, careful to not alarm the King.

Llyra Constantine: "No, Sire, not one time." She reaches forth brushing his arm lightly, waiting for permission.  Faulkes edges around the room to try to get to the infirmary where Lorelei is sleeping.
Olwe says softly, eyeing her face carefully. "Darkness has touched me, Llyra. I did not succomb, but it has a hand on my soul."

Veronique Wellesley closes her eyes briefly at Olwe's words.

Llyra Constantine: "I know. Allow me to see it: perhaps the flames may burn some off."

Daza Mistwalker eyes the clerics trying to be mindful of releasing too much of his own energies and nods at the king's words. 

Llyra Constantine: "Trust me, Sire...I would do no more harm than has been done already..."

Olwe looks around the room, then at Llyra.  "Wait, " he says and then slowly disarms..."Take these...You dare not trust me."

Llyra Constantine nods, "Please take his weapons."

Veronique Wellesley relaxes slightly as Olwe gives up his weapons, which she had been eyeing. She holds out her hands for them. Varvara Yatsenko walks to the king with her softest smile, but her hand stays close to her shoulder ready to draw her sword. She relaxes only when kings bow has been passed to Veronique.  Varvara Yatsenko sighs and looks down.  Llyra Constantine reaches out her hands, palms up, an invitation to hold them, "I need to see, Olwe..."

Olwe passes over his weapons quietly and nods. Veronique Wellesley takes the weapons and carries them to chest across the room putting them away carefully. Veronique Wellesley returns to her position behind the King, facing Llyra. Faulkes watches. eyes Daza, and appears to be gaurding the door to the infirmary. Olwe gingerly places his hands atop Llyra's hands.

Varvara Yatsenko looks very disappointed at disarming the king. She feels deeply ashamed, but not sure for whom. Veronique Wellesley relaxes into the hands of the Lady and her Lord, allowing the powers of healing to fill herself and thus allowing her to observe the proceedings more closely.  Llyra Constantine stiffens at the contact immediately, her eyes closing as she breathes harshly and coughs. She clenches his hands tightly, seeing with her energies the dark poison beneath. Drawing a deep breath, she sends the tendrils of brightest light into his body, seeking out the source.  Olwe stands quietly, patiently, closing his own eyes.  Daza Mistwalker watches the clerics proceed carefully.

Llyra Constantine's skin begins to heat as her energy nears the source. Shooting sparks at it, she watches it retreat and carefully pulls the energies back. Opening her eyes, she lets go and steps back, breathing heavily. "Sire, there are some things Daza must say to you. Please listen carefully, I do not know how much time this will last."

Olwe opens his eyes, a look of sudden knowledge and dismay on his face.  He steps back as well.  Pixie Hammand watches in silence and awe, never having witnessed such a spectacle. Olwe nods...and turns around to see who steps forward as Daza.  Veronique Wellesley watches Llyra and the King carefully, then eyes Daza, her hands held together, one hand on top of the other, a faint bluish white glow, dancing around her fingers.  Daza Mistwalker tries to summon a calming breeze and plucks up courage to explain what must be done
Llyra Constantine retreats to the fire, pulling a Salamander forth who proceeds to entwine itself around her hands. Sighing softly, she listens.

Daza Mistwalker: "King Olwe, you have been infected by a very deadly and vicious poison."

Olwe says in a voice calm as the gentle sea breeze.  "Speak, Daza.  Do not be hesitant."

Powers Constantine braces for the Kings reaction to the ritual.  Faulkes grinds his teeth. He only saw the result of the ritual, but his ribs still ache in bad weather.  Veronique Wellesley places herself within reach of the King, outside of the direct line between Olwe and Daza.

"No mere poison could lay me so low.  There must be more."

Varvara Yatsenko watches Daza. She wonders why does she start feeling so bad.

Daza Mistwalker: "In order to be released, you will have to endure a great tribulation...there will be great pain and a high cost."

Powers Constantine knew this was the only way the Queen could bear this. 

Daza Mistwalker: "The Nightmare's Tears only give up its victims at a high payment of pain and grief...which you will have to pay...along with one other."

Olwe takes in a deep breath, shakes his head a little, and then absently pulls at one of his ears.  But he keeps his attention on Daza.
Olwe: "Nightmare Tears?"


Faulkes hisses. It is a familiar sound to anyone who knew Zuul. Daza Mistwalker nods "That is the name of the dark flowers."

Llyra Constantine: "Be quick Daza, I cannot say how much time the poison will stay in abeyance."  Daza Mistwalker nods to Llyra
Veronique Wellesley nods at Llyra's words, looking from Daza to the King once again.  Llyra Constantine glances worriedly at the King.

Daza Mistwalker: "You will have to undergo a ritual in 3 basic parts...first a potion that we will have to improvise to prepare your blood."

"Flowers? I was in a pit with an unseen evil which tried to break my soul, then carted to a dark- skinned elf who has heard this same evil but somehow survived it.  But I fear not unscathed.  That has little to do with posies."

Talonia Moonshadow hears the hiss and looks for teh one that goes with it but then remembers no way it could be.  Powers Constantine whispers to Lady Pixie, "This is very brutal ritual. You may want to leave or at least back up and sit down"

Faulkes: "The yare not posies, m'Lord King...."

Daza Mistwalker nods. "These evil things are no ordinary flowers, high King."

Pixie Hammand nods and moves towards the back of the room. Varvara Yatsenko watches Powers and gulps hard.  Veronique Wellesley moves back one, step, but remains close, ready to support, confident in the protection of her gods.  Olwe settles back down and nods curtly.

Daza Mistwalker: :Second....you will need to ...erm....shed your blood."

Olwe: "You mean, wound myself?"

Faulkes: "Worse." Olwe's eyebrows raise as he turns to look at Faulkes.  "Worse?"

Daza Mistwalker clears his throat and fidgets "No...someone will have to...ummm............kill you."

Varvara Yatsenko sighs with a deep relief looking to Daza and nods to king's words.  Llyra Constantine signals Pixie across the room, hoping for an energy barrier to the uncomfortable energies pervading the Hall.
Varvara Yatsenko stares at Daza with eyes open wide.

Faulkes: "As he said. Someone you  love and who loves you very much will have to kill you."

Pixie Hammand joins the High Cleric, wondering what will occur next. Daza Mistwalker 's face grows a bit red. "Someone will have to kill, and they will have to cry over you so that their tears mix with your blood."  Varvara Yatsenko closes her eyes and leans to the wall.

Olwe whilrs about to look at Daza. "Kill me?  That is a cure?" He laughs out loud a moment, but it is not a pleasant one.  "A rather final cure, do you not think?"

Faulkes: "Daza and I have both undergone this ritual."

Veronique Wellesley observes, "Not as Final as you may think, King Olwe.."

Daza Mistwalker shrugs and nods somberly "Yes."

Llyra Constantine watches the salamander slip off into the flames and turns, stepping toward the King once more."Olwe, I will be there to ressurrect you."

Faulkes nods. "Llyra is very good at her job."

Varvara Yatsenko sighs and manages to stand straight.  Veronique Wellesley glances toward Varvara again.

Daza Mistwalker: "King Olwe, there is a resurrction involved, to bring you back whole and cured."

Llyra Constantine: "The ritual works or it would not be suggested, Sire."

Olwe pauses and grows silent. Unknown to this company of caring sylvan citizens, he remember the taunting voice. how it wheedled him, how it taunted him, how it implied that the one he loved above life itself abandoned him. Could he ask that same one to take his life?

Faulkes: "And, if yu have a spirit riding you, it will be gone, too."

Daza Mistwalker: "As I said, this evil exacts a very high toll."

Olwe looks at Faulkes.  "It is so much more than a wraith, my friend, but an enemy to us all which squeezes my very being."

Faulkes lowers his eyes and frowns at his boots. "And, so was Zuul, regardless what people may have thought of him>"

Daza Mistwalker: "I would not blame you for refusing it, King Olwe...you will have to ask one who is dear to you to perfrom the grisely task of slaying you."

Talonia Moonshadow looks to the ground at the mention of Zuul.  Olwe eyes Daza carefully.  "Many have fallen to this, have they not?  But none so stricken as I?"  He waits for Daza's reaction.  Faulkes looks at Daza, too.  Llyra Constantine looks at the Mage, "Tell him the truth."

Daza Mistwalker laughs darkly. "King Olwe, I was once blackened and burnt by the power of those things."

Faulkes thinks to himself that at least the King has not been turned purple.  "The demon that rode me, transformed me completely."

Varvara Yatsenko whispers: "A king ... slowly turning to a tyrant ... how terrible."  Olwe whirls around and looks at Varvara.  "I shall not be so.  I shall not."

Olwe says quietly,  "I will take my own life before I let that evil one take me."

Daza Mistwalker: "I was driven to some measure of depression and madness....all who are touched by them suffer much."

Faulkes: "Not so simple, m'Lord King."

Llyra Constantine: "It must be someone who loves you...someone who would weep for you."

Faulkes: "I fyou slay yourself, the Dark One will take you anyway."

Veronique Wellesley: "With this ritual, you will not have to take your own life to prevent these things from coming to pass, King Olwe... merely to let it be taken and trust us to see you safe." Veronique Wellesley moves around, putting herself between Varvara and Olwe.
Varvara Yatsenko says gazing at the floor: "Someone told me the same ..." She shudders.

Daza Mistwalker: "This is a ritual of sacrifice and love, King Olwe....for only love and light can conquer and drive out this evil."

Veronique Wellesley reaches out a hand touching Varvara briefly and gently, before returning her attention to the King.  Faulkes lowers his eyes to his shoes again, knowing that, at least for him, this was ot quite accurate.  Talonia Moonshadow crawls under teh table and goes to sleep while they continue their discussion.

Olwe nods. shifting slowly from one foot to the other.  "I am clear headed now...and you do not know for how long. That is your worry."  He looks about the room and nods to himself.  Then he speaks, a terrible pain in his voice. " You can let no one I love near me."

Varvara Yatsenko covers her mouth trying hard not to scream as she hears king's words. Pixie Hammand is grateful the queen is not here...
Llyra Constantine frowns, "Olwe: how can we do the ritual without this person? It is necessary.." She looks at the Mage expectantly.  "Convince him.." she whispers sternly.  Veronique Wellesley frowns briefly. "What is required here, Daza? who can do this thing?"

Olwe takes in their sticken expression.  "You dare not.  For you cannot risk my cousin's life."

Daza Mistwalker eyes the king carefully and sighs. "King Olwe...this is about love and light...and surely one who loves you would not endure you suffering."

Faulkes: "The Queen has witnessed this ritual. She knows what this entails."

Llyra Constantine arches one eyebrow, "She is far stronger than many give her credit for. Have you forgotten how she came to the throne?"
Veronique Wellesley looks thoughtful for a moment her face giving hint that she is contemplating something drastic.

Faulkes: "Indeed."  Varvara Yatsenko nods gazing at the floor.
Powers Constantine agrees.  Pixie Hammand: "But Olwe is her flesh and blood...is she strong enough for that."

Veronique Wellesley offers."A proxy for the queen.... would that work, Daza?"

Olwe looks down and nods, cocking his head a moment, as though listening to an unseen voice.  "I mean, you cannot risk her life. I am now a danger to my own beloved cousin.  The one I watch grow as an elf maiden to a princess to a great Queen. If she were to do this, you could not let her near me until the ritual."  He eyes Daza.

Daza Mistwalker: Olwe, your suffering affects more than just you.....imagine watching someone YOU love devolve into madness and darkness.....what would YOU do?"

Veronique Wellesley looks to Olwe, nodding in acknowlegement of his wods. Veronique Wellesley glances back to Daza. Faulkes watches the King and gets the eerie feeling that something is not quite right.

Llyra Constantine: "Then we shall keep you separated and get her approval as soon as we may. Daza, a scroll to the Queen please, there is not time to waste."

Faulkes: "Daza, who was my partner in the ritual? It could be said that Lorelei had no special love for Zuul."

Daza Mistwalker: There can be no proxie for this....there are already complications related to timing...there MUST be a strength applied here!"

Powers Constantine finds this very disturbing as the others had many days of preparation, while the King has not.  Veronique Wellesley nods in understanding of Daza's words, dropping her gaze fo a moment to the floor.

Daza Mistwalker: "King Olwe.....YOU must ask the queen to do this for you."

Powers Constantine nods at Faulkes..but she does have love for you
Olwe nods slowly, shaking his head and whispers, "Do you hear the buzzing?"

Llyra Constantine frowns again. "Buzzing?"  Veronique Wellesley frowns briefly, her eyes searching Olwe's face.  Varvara Yatsenko shakes her head hard and tries to concentrate on the king.  Olwe nods and looks about the room..."A buzzing...the whisper of voices."

Faulkes smooths his features and looks at Daza yet again. "He is slipping away."

Daza Mistwalker nods "Aye...I know them."

Powers Constantine:"How can you wait Daza?"

Llyra Constantine sighs and reaches out to touch the King's arm.  Wincing in pain, she pulls back, "I dare not try again. Too much energy could bring harm..."

Daza Mistwalker: There is no choice....we only get one chance..it must be done right."

Faulkes: "With all deliberate speed. No rushing."

Olwe nods, meeting Daza's eyes.  "I prayed to Illuvatar.  I whispered Tilion's name.  I tried to see the moon, but my eyes were blinded, and I could not find him.  I cannot ask an Ainur to slay me.  How can I risk my sweet cousin?" His face contorts in a spasm of pain.

Daza Mistwalker: "Perhaps we can ward off the voices from this hall for a time...so you can gether you nerve to approach the queen when you are stronger."

Llyra Constantine murmurs the ancient words of her God, asking for solace and an easing of pain.

Faulkes: "Have you a trusted companion?An aide? A lover? It may not have to be the Queen."

Daza Mistwalker: "Once you have done that, we will find the captain of your ship and speed you back to Alqualonde which should lessen the voices greatly."

A flash of anger sweeps across Olwe's features. "Gather my nerve?" He steps forward. "I am no coward." Then Faulke's voice breaks the anger, and he turns a face saddened and lost. Gently, he says, "I have a Beloved..yes." His voice trails off.

Llyra Constantine: "Tilion.." she whispers softly.  Olwe nods.  "Tilion."

Faulkes: "It would be a cruel thing to do to her, but losing you would be even more cruel."

Daza Mistwalker: "King Olwe...you are going to ask a most difficult thing from someone you love.....there is no shame."

Llyra Constantine: "He watches over you, Olwe...though I know not how to find him save to touch your soul."

Veronique Wellesley sighs softly at Olwe's words, thankful that he lets go of the anger. She reaches out touching his arm gently in support, the power of her gods flowing through her fingers in an attempt to lend strength and comfort. She winces slightly and then withdraws her hand.

Varvara Yatsenko: "Yes, king, believe me, it is terrible to see how the one who means almost all for you slowly slips away and you see a monster."

Olwe nods a little. "Prepare this ritual.  But I must ...I need.."  He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.  'I must....gather myself."

Daza Mistwalker looks at the kings eyes with a softened gaze of one who has done this. "I understand.....I would have this done in your own land if possible...away from the flowers."

Llyra Constantine smiles. "Then I shall not let go, Sire." She nods to Daza. "We have his agreement."  Veronique Wellesley nods at Llyra's words.

Olwe looks at Daza.  "I want to go home to Alqualonde. Let us take me home.  If I am to cross the veil, for however long, I want to see Alqualonde once more.  Just in case..." his voice falters.

Veronique Wellesley looks to Daza to see his answer.

Daza Mistwalker nods "Make your request to the queen and then you may go when you are ready with the blessing of our clerics"

Olwe turns around and smiles sadly at Llyra.  "I do not fear death.  It will only bring me forever to my Beloved's side. This I know." Veronique Wellesley smiles sadly.

Llyra Constantine smiles, "Yes, it would, but you are the King and it is not yet your time."

Daza Mistwalker: "Alqualonde will offer you some relief from the voices, I think."

Faulkes: "Send him with a jar of Alasse's spring water."

Llyra Constantine chuckles. "I will attend...I am far stronger than the water of the springs there."

Olwe shakes his head a little.  "That I must think on.  That I must weigh. I cannot ask this lightly." He grimmaces as if in pain.  "But I want to see Alqualonde once more, and perhaps, if it is the will of Illuvatar, look up and behold the moon once more.  Perhaps behold once more the face of..." he closes his eyes.

Llyra Constantine sees the king's pain and drops her gaze. Veronique Wellesley whispers to Llyra, "I wll aid as I can, If I may.." She watches Olwe, her eyes filled ith sympathy.  Daza Mistwalker nods to the King, with some understanding. Llyra Constantine looks up and nods at the Duchess.  Faulkes can only gaze at the tile floor.

Daza Mistwalker: "So you know what you must do, King Olwe?

"Please, I must rest. And think" He looks back at Llyra.  "And you must allow me my madness back for the moment.  You waste your precious gift staving it off."  He straightens up and looks around with a wan smile.  "I am sure you have a potion that will make me sleep?" Olwe nods at Daza's words. "I do."

Powers Constantine heart grows heavy at the weight of those words. Olwe continues. "It will take time to prepare thing, yes?"

Llyra Constantine nods relunctantly. "You are correct..t'would do more harm than good to push more energy through you just now. Duchess, I believe the potions are in the infirmary."

Daza Mistwalker nods "I will leave you in the hands of our capable clerics...they can see to you having a peaceful and healing sleep free of nightmares."

Faulkes looks up suddenly. "Do have a care for Lorelei...."  Veronique Wellesley glances at Faulkes, "How could we not?"

Olwe: "Then if it is the will of the Valar that no other alternative be forthcoming.  This we shall do, and you have my thanks for your love and care." He bows his head.  "I place myself in your hands and in the will of Blessed Illuvatar."

Faulkes: "She still sleeps within. I feel the need to watch over her, and watch for the one who is coming for D'Arria."

Daza Mistwalker:"I will look into the next steps and vist you before you leave, good king!"

Veronique Wellesley returns to her gaze to Olwe, smiling faintly as his resolve.  Kurashi Nansen 's eyes widden hearing the roar of a dragon he goes to slip away quietly takeing care for where his hoof hits.
Olwe blushes and whispers..."I feel the madness coming...You should not tarry with what potion I should take."  He blushes.

Llyra Constantine smiles faintly, "Yes of course...they are in the infirmary." Veronique Wellesley nods adn crosses to the infirmary, fetching the requested potion. She carries it in and offers it to the King with her own hands.

"On the morrow, if there is a cleric of Illuvatar, I should like to see them, please. " Olwe smiles wanly, "Thank you, gentle friends."
Olwe takes the potion and drinks it quickly.

Daza Mistwalker listens to the words of Faulkes "I will look in to Lorelei and see what can be done for her as well ..... I need to get to the mage lab and consult some of the tomes there."

Veronique Wellesley retrieves the flask, slipping it into her pouch, then reaches to take Olwe's elbow supptively.

Daza Mistwalker nods to Olwe and smiles "what we can so do, we will!"

Varvara Yatsenko whispers: "Daza, and I need to ask you ... "

Llyra Constantine breathes a gentle sigh and steps back, her concern for the King apparent on her face. Olwe turns his head and smiles at her, the smile reaching his eyes.  "Lead me, lady, please."

Faulkes: "I hope you have the strength of a dragon, Daza. It will require much."

Veronique Wellesley smiles warmly at the King with sympathy, as she leds him to where he might rest in safety.  Olwe follows calmly. He stops to regard Daza.  "However this turns out, I thiank you."
Veronique Wellesley pauses as the King speaks to Daza, and then guides him throgh the door into safety.

Daza Mistwalker nods and smiles a bit "I wish you the grace of the Valar good King..you will need it"

> Next       

Olwë's Trek

< Previous      

AelKennyr Rhiano

Olwe paused and leaned against a tree, peering up through the green canopy,  the trickle of sunlight dappling the leaves only faintly.  He knew he rose later than he had planned, though greatly refreshed after a peaceful night's sleep.  As he traveled, he collected berries and nuts to eat, pausing only to rest briefly and get his bearings before heading off again.

The peaceful sleep of the night before had eased his mind greatly and renewed his spirit. Seeing his brother once more, lightened the heaviness in his heart. Once more to behold his brother, to hear his voice, feel the love that had always been so freely given...he smiled.  He allowed his memory to drift back to the days he and his brother led the Teleri ever toward the Shining Lands.

But when his mind tried to recall the events that happened between when he went to sleep in the cleric's hall in Sylvahara and found himself on the mountain side, his memories were clouded, muddled, incomplete. He remembered something about a dark-skinned elf, a woman of great beauty, with skin like black velvet.  But who she was, he cannot remember, or even if she truly exists.  There was something about flowers and a cave....

That pit and the voice.  Even in the warming day, he shivers.  In his heart crept in a dread that is at odds with the warmth and beauty of the day, with the birdsong and scampering of woodland creatures. He pushed on, making his way, hour after lonely hour, before he begins to perceive a slight thinning of trees, creating places where the light of the sun can filter through the branches of the larger tree.

In the late afternoon, he came across an babbling brook.  After slaking his thirst, he sat upon the ground, a hand gently running over a patch of soft green grass.  In a couple of hours, he will lose sunlight to the approaching night.  As he rested, he felt the subtle leeching of the sun's warm as day slowly gives way to night.  He slowly rose to his feet.  Every second of light is precious to him in his trek across this unknown forest.  He did not know if night would bring with it peaceful sleep again, or horrible nightmares of destruction and death. 

A sense of urgency  would sweep over him at times: then, at other times, a fugue would envelope him, and the very thought of continuing his journey would then seem futile and pointless. In his more lucid moments, he came to fear that within his own hröa and fëa, body and soul, there is stirrings of a great battle for his very sanity, his very existence.  Whatever was in his tampered wine left him exposed and vulnerable, Olwe realized, to that terrible "thing" in the pit, and it was laying a shadowy hand upon his spirit...his essence, and  slowly, purposefully, beginning squeeze.

> Next       

An Unlucky Vanya

 >  Previous    

Lihan Taifun

Linhröa walks -- or glides, or bounces, or dances -- along the road leading north from Valimar, the City of the Valar.  She has spent a few weeks visiting a friend in the city.  The friend is a Maia of Nessa, the Dancer, who helps to keep Nessa and Tulkas' home in the city.  But Nessa and Tulkas seldom visit the city, preferring their estates in the wide grasslands of the Blessed Lands.  When there is no great Council of Ainur -- that is, most of the time -- the house is quiet, and the staff is only too happy to entertain a Vanya Elf.

Linhröa has been preparing a new dance for the fall competition.  The Vanyar take their music, and their festivals, seriously.  When you have elves who have been entering the festival for thousands of years, you get very steep competition!  So, when Linhröa came to a difficult problem with her choreography, she turned to students of the greatest of all dancers, the Maiar of Nessa.  She feels much more confident now, her mind filled with ideas to express in movement what she had imagined in her head. 

The road back to the Vanya settlement on the slopes of Mount Taniquetil does not run directly in this direction.  Linhröa is taking a bit of a scenic detour, following the bank of a stream.  She really is in no big hurry to get home.  People might miss her if she were gone a few months later than she had expected, but they would hardly worry.  After all, what could go wrong here in the Undying Lands?  And it is so much easier to practice dancing alone on the road, instead of at home, where rivals might peek at her new dance.

The path bends around a hillside, following the curve of the stream.  Ahead is a dark patch on the hillside.  Curious, she comes closer.  It is some kind of plant she has never seen before, dark of leaf and dark of flower.  Some new experiment of of Lady Yavanna or Lady Vána, perhaps?  She giggles at the idea that she might be one of the first to see this new creation.  "New" things are rare in this ageless realm.

The fragrance of the flowers is overpowering -- or is there some dark mist brooding over the patch of plants?

Linhröa reaches out her hand toward a flower -- not to pick it, of course, just to feel it, experience it with all her senses.  As her fingers brush the tips of the petals, it seems to her that the flower is likewise reaching out toward her.  Dreamily, she cups her hand around the flower.  Is is really black?  Or no, tilting her head, it looks like a dark purple.  No, a dark red.  Or is that an iridescent sheen?

Without realizing it, she is now kneeling in the patch of dark growth, holding the mysterious dark blossom in both hands.  How long has she been here like this?  The mist -- or is it a fragrance? -- is inside her head now, blocking out any other thought.

There is a tiny whisper, perhaps from the flower, and  Linhröa strains to hear the words.  Very faint, but if she listens very hard, she can make out, "I could teach you ...

"I could teach you what I taught Fëanor."

What nonsense is that?  Fëanor, the Noldor madman?   Linhröa never met Fëanor herself.  She was born in what the outside world calls the Second Age of the Sun, thousands of years after his time.  But she has heard the stories, and they aren't flattering.

The voice scoffs at her shock.  "A Vanya, are you?  You think you are so pure, so ethereal, so removed from physical concerns."

No,  Linhröa thinks to herself.  Dancing is physical.  Music is ... is music physical?  She might have known the answer once, but it is getting hard to remember.

"Don't worry," the voice whispers.  "You won't be needing that physical body any more.  I need it now.  And I need your spirit, too."  The voice is only a fraction louder, but now full of command, "Come!"

Linhröa feels a sudden tug, and a strange tearing sensation.  Looking around in startlement, she notices her body laying collapsed beside the dark flower.  But if that is her body, then she ...?  "Blessed Eru," she says in confusion, "am I dead?"

"Not Eru!" snarls the voice, louder now.  "You are mine now!"  Unwilling,  Linhröa feels her spirit pulled along, into the blossom itself, which is becoming a long, dark tunnel.

The tunnel is suddenly disrupted by a great swirling wind.   Linhröa is swept and battered like a leaf.  Shapes flash past, but she has no power to grasp at any of them, nor even to orient herself.  Everything is tumbling, swirling, rushing past.

Then the wind slows, and deposits her spirit on a paved floor, in a dimly lit stone-pillared hall.

>  Next     

Brothers Reunite

< Previous AelKennyr Rhiano (with TedTheRushBandFan Hammerer) The night turned out chilly, after the heat of the day and the long, difficult climb down the mountain.  The sweat of the day's labor soaked his clothes and left them now a cool wetness against his skin, causing the Teleri Lord to shiver a little.  He huddled closer to the small fire he had built, pushing idly at embers with a charred stick.  He had fallen into a deep sleep after his meal of berries and nuts gleamed from the forest, but his dreams came fitfully, then descended into scenes of fire and destruction, the smell of burnt flesh in his nostrils, the feel of ash upon his skin...his eyes burning from the smoke.  Screams and wails besieged his ears, and all around him were elves running, running...not Teleri... but kin nevertheless.  Monsters rode the skies, more terrible than any he could imagine, pouring out of a circle of deadly flowers he had seen before...where?  Where had he seen them? He woke up screaming and wrapped his worn cloak around him for warmth as he stoked up the fire.  He leans close now, in the late night stillness.  He remembers another fire, another night, long ago....so long ago, but there had been only laughter and joy at that campfire.  The tallest of all the Children of Ilúvatar was his brother Elwe, full of deep laughter, his voice like a still pool of water, his warmth in his touch, his words.  The sweetest of the those years days, when he and his brother both led their people ever westward swept over the Teleri Lord, and Olwe smiles.  The clapping of his brother's hand upon his shoulder, followed by a mock stern admonishment to not worry so much...as Olwe calls before his mind's eyes, the face of his brother, his eyes droop and flutters close, and the weary Lord of Alqualonde dozes lightly for several moments.  "Olwe.....Olwe...." There was a voice...a familiar voice...warm...comforting...It could have been the fire dying back down, the lost of its warmth that made Olwe stir and open bleary eyes, or it could have been the whisper of his name upon the wind.  But open his seablue eyes, he did.  Past the weaving, smoking flames of his dying fire, mists swirled and gathered, taking the form and shape of someone well known to the King of the Teleri. A form he never thought to see again, a voice he never thought to hear.  Olwe stares, eyes widening.  His face pales and his eyes widen as he pushes himself up off the ground.  He extends a shaking hand, and his voice wavers, "No....it can't be." The night mists stir into the tall figure of Lord Elu Thingol. His eye shown as the full moon and his smile warm and comforting as he sees Olwe recognize him. Olwe's hand wavers, and he stares hard at the tall figure of his brother. "This...this cannot be...it...it cannot be."  Tears spring to his eyes, a sharp ache from his heart rising to choke his breath, to sweep over his face. "Olwe... I have escaped the Halls of Mandos to come to you in your time of greatest need." The eyes of his brother stares deep into  Olwe's own. The voice...the warm, rich, comforting voice, enveloped him. It bore the very lilt and tone of his brother's cadence. The very manner of his elder brother was mimicked in the stance of the figure before him. The mists swirls and eddies, and Olwe takes a step forward, peering deep into the eyes he knew better than his own.  "Brother?" He takes another step, his face both alight with joy and with apprehension. "Elwe?" "Yes my brother... I am here....Do not despair This time of turmoil of the mind will pass as the night turns into day." 'How can I know you are not a fevered dream but my brother come again. You seem as he,  the light in your eyes, the bearing , the manner, but I have been surrounded by dreams and half dreams, and I do not know what is real anymore."  He drinks in the sight of his brother, and there is a youthful look to his face, not seen in centuries.  "Tell me something of me, only my brother would know." "Olwe... remember that fateful night of our parting? Remember how we laughed and sang and drank the last of the sweet wines? Remember how we sang that old song from the youngest days of our awakening together as we marched on those last moments before parting? Only you and I know this memory... You know this must be me.. Elwe!" Olwe closes his eyes and for a moment, murmurs a thanks to Blessed Eru Illuvatar. "Ye! Yes...we did....and we talked long into the night....and there was that lake we decided to swim in.....clothes and all...." he laughes with boyish delight. "Brother!... My Brother!" Without hesitation, he flies across the distance and clasps his brother in a hug , weeping with joy. "My eyes see with joy the brother I have lost."  He feels the solidness of his brother's arm, and a wild joy sweeps over his heart. "Be strong and fight this cursed illness. Focus on these best memories to anchor your mind onto." Olwe nods....holding onto his brother at arm's length.  " I have so many memories of that journey, of us together.  Elu...you have to know I did not want to leave you behind and travel forth...but Lord Ulmo commanded." Mandos." Elu smiles softly.  Olwe smiles softly, sadly back.  "I wished often you were by my side, my brother, during the journey.  I wished once more for us to behold each other, and talk as we used to when the world was new to us, and we were new to the world."  Olwe looks earnestly into his brother's eyes. "Elwe, brother, they say in the Halls of Mandos, all the stories of all the elves ever bore lie there, recorded by the beloved wife of Mandos.  Be that so?" "Indeed but it seems I have only started to learn all the secrets." "Both of us, brother, saw kin turn against kin, slain for the joy of a evil creatures, a foul, twisted thing.  A thing I fear crawls into my thoughts my dreams, my being...and I fear...I fear that waning of our people shall be more like wheat sliced by the sickle in the field.  Give me hope, Brother, that we can prevail against this darkness."  "You are strong and wise my Brother... if you can focus.  Focus on the greatest of times!" Elu scolds and then points to Olwe's head. His stern face turns to a warm smile as he places his cloudy hand near Olwes heart, and says, "Gerich veleth nín. ..... You have my love." Elu smiles and longs to give Olwe a warm embrace but only wisps of mist swirl around both figures. What was once solid is now fading into mist.  Olwe feels the solidness of his brother fade and smiles sadly at the words. "I know you are with me always, in my heart, my brother." He gives the brotherly smile he has not worn in long centuries.  "And you have comforted my heart in this darkness.  I see the mists claiming you.  Must we part now?"  Elwe mever cared for leavetakings....Olwe remembers now. Instead...Elwe...Elu Thingol smiles and gives his traditional parting expression that was always part of ceremonies in Menegroth.... Navaer, Harthon i laiss en-Galadh e-Guil gala  (Farewell, I hope the leaves of your tree of life grow ) Olwe bows  his head.  He learned the language of his brother's people in the long passage of time after the Thingol's death.  "Sére ar alasse  (Peace and joy). Ar saila, mâlon!  (and wisdom, friend!).  Tenna' ento lye omenta”    (Until next we meet)." The cloudy figure of Elu fades back in to the mist as slowly as it had appeared. Olwe stares long at the place where once His brother seemed to stand before sliding down to his knees, a hand reaching out to touch the patch of earth where it seemed his brother stood.  "You have my love," Olwe whispers, and a quietness steals over  his heart.  After a few moments, he stood and wearily returned to his place by the fire, rolled himself into his cloak and, at least for this night, sink into blessed,  peaceful sleep. > Next

Aynad and the Dalish Elves

> Previous Dalish         Aynad Adored Aynad, a small young tree faerie, hovers a small distance above the ground, and  looks out over the forest of this new land in which she now is living.  She had come to the forest a few months earlier with her family who had adopted her. Two Dalish elves, a slender male with a long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, and a lovely female, who was tall, graceful, almost royal in her demeanor. Aynad was only barely past her hundredth birthday, and was reminded often about her inexperience and youth, although it did not bother her much, as her heart was as light as the breeze that flowed through her fluttering wings.  But there were dangers, as Father had warned that there would be.  Orcs, dragons, and other nasties were occasionally encountered, and Aynad was glad for the training that Father had given her, and the strength of Mother's spirit.  She recounted again the Dalish ways of thinking and living, as Father had taken on the Teacher role, and she the Student... Teacher: We Dalish live by a code known as Vir Tanadahl, meaning "Way of Three Trees."     * Vir Assan ("Way of the Arrow") - fly straight and do not waver     * Vir Bor'Assan ("Way of the Bow") - bend but never break     * Vir Adahlen ("Way of the Forest") - together we are stronger than the one Student: How do I reflect the Dalish ways in thinking, particulary the way we approach threats, with combat or peace? Teacher: Combat is only used if absolutly necessary, as a last resort...  but if there is a need to get to that point, attack with no thought of escape. If blood needs to be drawn, don't be the aggressor.  If you need to defend another, that is more important than defending yourself. Teacher:  Yes, we want peace... We only know how to fight because we needed to defend ourselves. The part about the Three Trees were particularly dear to her heart, as a tree faerie... she knew what happens to trees that do not grow in the Vir Tanadahl fashion: they either become gnarled and have difficulty getting nourishment to their leaves, or they die early, and are eaten by the insects until they are but crumbled fragments on the earth that had borne them.  So she knew that although her tendency was to flit about and commune with her tree friends tirelessly, there were things which must be regarded carefully as signs of danger, and she felt a bit of debt to Father and Mother to preserve her life, for the sake of their brave hearts, and to honor their love for her. And so she came here with Father and Mother, to be the Dalish elves' emissaries here in this land, and to do what they could to help all creatures who loved life and Blessed Illuvatar... She especially wished to see others of the elvish folk that Father and Mother had told her about, in their stories and training sessions which they diligently gave to Aynad, especially when they sat in the evenings together, Aynad's favorite part of the day.. > Next Dalish

The Dalish Encounter

> Previous Fëamahtar         October 10, 2010 After having seen the vision in a dream by Irmo, Lord of Dreams, Feamahtar sets off on her task of self discovery. She takes a ship, which was moored in the harbour, and sails for other lands. Spying an inlet with heavily forested shores, she steers her ship ashore and disembarks onto a little used trail. It was not long before she spies a figure in the shadows of the dark wood. Feamahtar, startled by the appearance of what looked to be an elf, demands: "Who are you?  Speak!" She orders in a  a sharp menacing  voice, "or i will draw my sword." Her hand grasps the helt of her long sword hanging at her side.  The dark figure responds, "I must know: be you friend or foe?" Feamahtar slowly advances toward the figure. She is ever ready to defend herself, noting that as she gets  closer he starts to meld into the trees. She is startled by this effect .  She had heard of this  ability that elves of old had used to hunt,  but had never seen it so perfected.  Finally  a small elf stood before her.  Feamahtar studies the silent figure. There was no sense of danger  radiating from him.  He stood  quiet and calm before her. "Who be you?" she stutters. The dark figure speaks. "I am Tamlin Neari of the Dalish Elves." as he comes slowly into the light.  "Who are you, and why do you tresspass in our forest?" He draws his bow and puts his hand on an arrow. With a self assured manner he calmly  watches her.  Feamahtar is startled by this movement,  and out of the corner of her eye, she notes his hand move to his arrows.  She also sees that he is not alone ... a small fae face  peers at her from the folige.  The small fae  spoke for the first time.   "Father, pardon my interruption, but is there no brotherhood among elves?" Feamahtar is shaken that she did not see what obviously was all the time in front of her.    Harshly she  states,  "Speak elf,  I have no time to be wasting here with you.  Be you friend or foe to the Teleri?" Tamlin Neari speaks:  "We have been under attack from outsiders commonly.  I need you to take your hand away from your blade. I do not wish for more bloodshed." The tiny fae wonders at the conflict that is brewing among two that are related. Feamahtar draws herself to her full elf height .. "I take no orders from stranges,  but I come in peace." She withdraws her hand. Tamlin Neari says, "I thank you. You are a fellow elf. From what tribe are you?" He shoulders his bow Ignoring his request, Feamahtar demands more quietly now,  "Pray tell me, what type of elf be you?" Tamlin Neari responds. "I am a dalish elf. Forgive my hostility: we have not been getting kind receptions lately." Feamahtar gives a brief nod.  "Dalish," she repeats the word.  She is most astronished. "I have heard of you,  but it has been a long  while since the Teleri have met the Dalish.  Yes. I be Teleri,  one of Alqualonde's swordmaidens.  The strange fae asks. "Father, please tell her what our stance is on conflict as Dalish?" Feamahtar feels a touch at the edge of her mind as though someone was knocking.  Startled by this  and sensing its source, she cringes away from this strange elf  figure. Tamlin Neari speaks to the fae and the newcomer. "Aynad, we arent safe here.  Would you please come back to the woods? I will answer any questions you have." Feamahtar, unsure how to procede,  ponders if she should  trust him. Is he leading her into a trap that his kind may have planned for her. She is unable to move.   "What fear you here?" she asks suspiciously. Aynad Adored looks all around to see the danger that he indicated.  Tamlin Neari stops walking. "No need to worry, my fair lass.  I mean you no harm and to prove it. I will lay down my arms. But I am not the only thing here. There are much worse things out here. We should move.  I sense one approaching." Aynad Adored speaks sternly.  "The greatest danger I see here is people who don't try to hear the other's heart."  Feamahtar heeds the tiny fae's  advice, hoping her judgement will prove to be correct,    She find his words and demeanor so kind and gentle   It is  hard not to  trust him. She nods.  "I will follow you," she says and withdraws her hand from her weapon. Tamlin leads Aynad and Feamahtar up a hill near some large trees. After a time, they stop, and finally  Feamahtar asks, "Now you must tell me who you fear? What danger is in this place?" She had  heard nothing but the singing of the birds and  sounds that the forest made. What could he have noticed her sharp elf ears had missed? Tamlin Neari begins. "Out here there are many evil creatures. We dalish try to live in peace but have been forced to take up arms. This is why I came to investigate your landing. The creatures that are to be feared out here we call darkspawn, nasty orcish creatures with a nasty bloodlust."  Feamahtar  gives an involuntary shudder, for she had heard of such and their evil ways. Tamlin Neari adds, "Also the dragons wont think twice on snagging you up for their supper." Feamahtar looks relieved. "Thank thee.  I am here in peace   I seek that which has endangered my people.  We  have lost many of the  Teleri  under suspicious circumstances.  Our king has been endangered by vicious plots." Tamlin suggests, "Perhap I could be help to you. I sense you have a pure heart, and powers untapped." Feamahtar is most gratified by his kind words, and replies,  "I know little of your people, only the stories that have been told. Why have you  vanished here and not joined us in this common threat? " Thoughtfully, Tamlin Neari states:  "We stick to ourselves to avoid conflict, but perhaps it is time we came out of the shadows." Feamahtar nods. "We Teleri are one of the original three elven clans,  but even that has not saved us from this evil that flows over our land. My sword is little use against the dread that now is upon us. Does your wisdom have anything to offer us,  Daglish? If so it is greatly needed." Tamlin Neari says, "After our kind were freed from the iron embrace of the shemlin (human), some decided to stay in chains. We chose to return to the old ways. Maybe I could teach you of the old ways and help you unlock your abilities." Feamahtar is most astronished by his offer and immediately reacts by asking his advice.  "In my dreams I saw a power greater then a sword .. do you know of this?" Tamlin Neari says, "There is much power in the sword, but an even greater power in the abilities of the elven soul. Tell me, have you had any kind of special ability that would happen at random?" Feamahtar  wonders what there is about this elf that has so impressed her.  She has shared such deep thoughts with this stranger, something she  has never done before, but there is something about him that it feels as though she should be asking him those questions. She watches him closely and  believes she can see something alter in his image .  A thought comes to her:  he is contemplating some action.  And she wonder if it will be for good or ill to her, but mostly to her people , the Teleri. Tamlin Neari feels a great, yet untapped, potential inside this strange elf and has a sense of monumentally great things destined for her. > Next Dalish         > Next Fëamahtar

Ulmo Leaves His Watery Palace

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AelKennyr Rhiano

Like a well- fitted robe, Ulmo "clothes" himself in the smaller form less frightful to the Children of Illuvatar, especially the Atani, the children of Man.  He has been bestowed with several names as these second Children multiplied, and their civilizations spread across the mortal world, and by those names he responds; never, however, forgetting he,like all of the Ainur, are servants of Blessed Illuvatar.  But the voice which rouses him from his palace Ulmonan, at the bottom of Vaiya, was not human. 

It was Elwing the White, daughter of Dior the Fair, heir of Elu Thingol, and Nimloth, and  the sister of Eluréd and Elurín. But Dior's reign was short lived...for the sons of Fëanor besieged Menegroth and slew Elwing's parents.  Once more elf turned against elf, as in Alqualonde, and again Noldor were bathed in the blood of a second Kinslaying.  As Ulmo reaches for his trident and leaves his watery halls, he shakes his head,  for this, that elf should turn on elf is a mystery to his mind.  The shorter lived children of men, too, turn kin against kin, brother against father.  Sometimes they take their battles to this beloved seas, and in his heart there is a hard place, created over the years of seeing the dead and dying cast into his waters, the price of blood letting and war.

But Elwing the White escaped the Sack of Doriath  and fled to the Sirion's Haven. With her was the coveted Silmaril.  There met she  Eärendil, he who would later become the patriarch of the  Númenor kings.  Two sons had she, Ulmo remembers, gliding through the waters, the currents carressing his form. Fishes parted, and sharks turned, swimming swiftly away from the Lord of the Seas.  As he passes, several dolphins, engaged in play, swam eagerly toward Ulmo, encircling him, giving him an escort on his journey.  Absently, he reached out a hand and gently stroked the smooth head of a dolphin closest to him. 

Thinking back, Ulmo remembers the last time his name was on Elwing's lips.  When the sons of Fëanor attacked  the Havens of Sirion in an attempt to gain the Silmaril, Elwing threw herself into the Great Sea, calling out to the Singer of the Waves.  He clothed her in the form of a white bird, so that she may fly safely to Eärendil in his ship.  Upon her snow white breast was the Silmaril, safe.

Weaving unseen between two ships, and passing below their hulls, Ulmo frowns. The last he thought of Elwing, he saw her living in a tower by the shores of Eldamar, from which she fed the seabirds who flock to her windows and sometimes flew among them as a white swan, for the birds taught her their language, and the change wrought upon her by the Lord of the Seas to save her left her with that ability.  He extends his awareness of all living things, both in the seas and out, and there!  there was a spark that was Elwing....she was resting, now, wrapped in restful dreams sent by Lord Irmo himself.  Ulmo does not intrude upon this rest, mindful of the need for sleep the Children require, but instead, as he nears the shores of Alqualonde, sends a mental statement to Mighty Manwe...

"Elwing the White is upon the Shores of Alqualonde.  What means this, oh, Brother and King?"  To Irmo he sends no inquiry, but continues on to Alqualonde...for soon, Elwing the White will awaken, and the darkness poised to consume the creation of Eru Illuvatar is flexing its hands, poised to strike.
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