Fifi Wickentower
Far far from any land known to the Children, Linfea Nensule rests and reflects on recent happenings: the mysterious disappearance of the Evening Star; Olwe and the Ritual that brought him to the very gates of the Halls of Mandos. She has not been near the Swan Haven since that memorable day.
She recalls, looking back, what now seems to be the beginning . . . the moment when the blight first appeared in the Garden . . . none would grow ere the oddly colored flowers had been and naught would stop their flourishing. Why, the remembrance of Vana swooning and falling to the ground as if dead herself, unable to hear Nienna and later bringing to the Council the poor blackened stunted evidence of death in the very heart of the Eternal Spring garden of the Undying Lands, was beyond anything she had ever seen.
There is, in spite of the seemingly successful outcome of Olwe's recovery, a darkness, a heaviness that no matter how the wind blows is not completely dispelled. Voices carry on the winds from all the quarters of the known world and those whispers carry a commonality of un-ease, of strife just below the surface, of nightmares and waking visions of shadows. There are scents on the wind that have rarely been perceived out of their normal realm: earthy,musty, scents of rot and decay, hot scents of blood and a cloying sweetness, as though a rich bounty of fruit had been left unharvested. This is reflected by a restlessness that she has not felt since the bad old days when the rogue of the Valar created such chaos as to rip the very fabric of Creation apart.
There is also a different scent and vibration on the currents of air that she is so familiar with, an intimation of a larger creature of flight . . . . greater than even the great eagles of the Pelori's . . . the currents indicate a great wing span . . . for Linfea is aware of each eddy and flow, each updraft and downdraft . . . each one a report of all those passing whether it be by air or sea: each sail and bird, each fish that jumps from the sea and each child that runs with a kite, every ship that sails and every swan that plays in the wake of a sailing ship.
Perhaps most unusual of all is the increased activity between the Undying Lands and Arda itself. Never have the Valar been so active . . the travel between Realms is unprecedented . . . . . not only Irmo and Nienna , which is strange enough to contemplate ( lost in the mystery of 'noodles' and 'kookin' whatever that may be) if this continues Ulmo himself may be found to move from the depths of the deepest seas where he normally resides.
As she sits and considers all that has gone before, the dulcet tones of the North Wind wafts on the gentle currents, tickling and soothing her to the very core of her being, and creating a sense of yearning for the company of her sister wind and the counsel and company of Manwe Sulimo, for it has always been within the safety of her home on the sacred mountain of Tanequital that she has found a moments peace and rest. It is the place she calls home.
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She recalls, looking back, what now seems to be the beginning . . . the moment when the blight first appeared in the Garden . . . none would grow ere the oddly colored flowers had been and naught would stop their flourishing. Why, the remembrance of Vana swooning and falling to the ground as if dead herself, unable to hear Nienna and later bringing to the Council the poor blackened stunted evidence of death in the very heart of the Eternal Spring garden of the Undying Lands, was beyond anything she had ever seen.
There is, in spite of the seemingly successful outcome of Olwe's recovery, a darkness, a heaviness that no matter how the wind blows is not completely dispelled. Voices carry on the winds from all the quarters of the known world and those whispers carry a commonality of un-ease, of strife just below the surface, of nightmares and waking visions of shadows. There are scents on the wind that have rarely been perceived out of their normal realm: earthy,musty, scents of rot and decay, hot scents of blood and a cloying sweetness, as though a rich bounty of fruit had been left unharvested. This is reflected by a restlessness that she has not felt since the bad old days when the rogue of the Valar created such chaos as to rip the very fabric of Creation apart.There is also a different scent and vibration on the currents of air that she is so familiar with, an intimation of a larger creature of flight . . . . greater than even the great eagles of the Pelori's . . . the currents indicate a great wing span . . . for Linfea is aware of each eddy and flow, each updraft and downdraft . . . each one a report of all those passing whether it be by air or sea: each sail and bird, each fish that jumps from the sea and each child that runs with a kite, every ship that sails and every swan that plays in the wake of a sailing ship.
Perhaps most unusual of all is the increased activity between the Undying Lands and Arda itself. Never have the Valar been so active . . the travel between Realms is unprecedented . . . . . not only Irmo and Nienna , which is strange enough to contemplate ( lost in the mystery of 'noodles' and 'kookin' whatever that may be) if this continues Ulmo himself may be found to move from the depths of the deepest seas where he normally resides.
As she sits and considers all that has gone before, the dulcet tones of the North Wind wafts on the gentle currents, tickling and soothing her to the very core of her being, and creating a sense of yearning for the company of her sister wind and the counsel and company of Manwe Sulimo, for it has always been within the safety of her home on the sacred mountain of Tanequital that she has found a moments peace and rest. It is the place she calls home.
> Next