DAWNDEATH – A Tale of the Setting Sun
A/N: Welcome, folks. This is my very own tribute to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien, whose world I perhaps know more about than the aspects of this one.
People currently reading 'A Tale of Two Realities' would consider me a crack writer, but this is not so. On a side note, said tale is NOTABANDONED.
This is my 'real' writing, as such.
As my username suggests, I often write from the point of view of a- different perspective. This is a very bold venture- Hardly anything has been written of the history of Harad and Rhûn. Yet, here we are.
I have one more thing to say- The road goes ever on and on…
Prologue- The Threads of Time
It had all started when an elf got perhaps a little too curious. After all, isn't curiosity the catalyst of all things? When Envinyatar, a former scholar of Rivendell who had once studied under Erestor, asked one question too many about a tale forbidden to memory, he had never expected a Vala to answer.
It was a bright, clear dawn in Valinor, as always. The elves had all sailed to the Blessed Realm, with a few exceptions- Notably Legolas Thranduilion, a hero of the fellowship of the Ring.
The fourth age had finally dawned with the defeat of the Dark Lord Sauron- it would be the age when the kingdoms of man rose again, thus bearing the name 'The age of Men'. Under the resplendent banner of King Elessar, the High King of Gondor and Arnor and the very herald of the new age, finally, peace prospered in Middle-Earth.
Meanwhile, in the Blessed Realm, Envinyatar the Scholar was hard-pressed to keep up, as Lord Námo himself led him through the Halls of Mandos. "A fine pickle you've gotten yourself in" he mused. Erestor had told him countless times that curiosity killed the cat- and he didn't listen. So here he was, following the Doomsman of the Valar for what could be a reprimand.
Facing the Vala had made him shake with fear, as the Doomsman was not exactly renowned for benign nature. As he swiftly turned a corner, struggling to stay in step with his lord, he found a very large hall in front of him, with numerous doors.
Entering from Valimar, he had first seen the great hall of the Fëar, but nothing of the repenting spirits inside. He had then been through an endless maze of winding paths and corridors, led by Mandos, until he made it to this juncture. While at it, the Vala had not said a word.
He looked to his left- Mandos' personal quarters- and to his right, a sealed-off hall. This, in fact, was the hall a Fëa went to, should he be released, to clothe itself in a hröa and depart the halls. This hall was seldom used, as the doomsman let very few Fëar leave his halls- and never any notable ones.
The hall which most captivated Envinyatar's attention, however, was the one right in front of him. A magnificent door stood ajar, and on it, and the walls next to it, were the most astonishing tapestries ever woven in Eä. Envinyatar could never have imagined the beauty of the tapestries, hence he already guessed what this section of Mandos was before entering: The Weaving Halls of Vairë.
His eyes bulged with awe and his jaw dropped to a distance physically impossible when he entered. The hall was vast, and on the walls, was the entire history of Middle-Earth! All the tapestries, even the dark ones, had an enchanting beauty. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
In front of him, sitting on a very minimalistic stool, with a simple-looking hand-operated loom in on a table, was a woman in a simple, white raiment. She was weaving constantly. Forget the tapestries- this was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. Vairë, spouse of Námo.
Mandos glided over to the figure, and swishing his black robes behind him, obscured Envinyatar's vision so that he could steal a quick kiss on his wife's cheek. The Doomsman hardly ever did that, hence it was definitely enough to command the Valië's attention. Vairë looked up, allowing a tear to fall down her cheek.
Mandos quickly communicated the purpose of Envinyatar's visit without a word- their thoughts would suffice. Said elf would have coughed politely so as to not be left in the dark, but these were Valar. "Rhûn and Harad… The East and the South" Vairë finally muttered. Then, rising gracefully, she almost flew over to the elf and took him by the hand.
A Vala taking your hand causes a strange sensation. First, Envinyatar almost choked on his breath. Secondly, he experienced a terrible burning sensation, such as he had never felt before. However, before he could scream in agony, the pain quickly died down and was replaced by coolness and calmness. All of a sudden, he felt far wiser than he had felt mere seconds ago. New aspects of every thought opened themselves to him. However, before he could be lost in philosophical contemplation, the Valië led him over to a section of the wall.
At the top, Envinyatar could make out with some difficulty the ancient Valarin. It said- Second Age. He was snapped out of his thoughts by the clear, melodious and utterly beautiful voice of Vairë.
"When I weave, I often cannot make out what I weave. An unknown force takes control of me. Hence, the more obscure the tale, the harder it is for me to recall it. However, there is another method of learning what secrets you seek."
Envinyatar was amazed by the clear way the weaver admitted she wasn't all-knowing about the past, and did not have complete control over history. He was amazed by a number of other things as well, such as her beautiful Dark hair cascading down to her shoulders, her pearly white cheeks, her voice more melodious than song, her simple yet beautiful white dress… and was promptly snapped out of his thoughts by a glare from Mandos.
Vairë, satisfied, began performing a most marvelous spectacle. With her fingers soft as cotton, she undid a small thread of the string, which ran parallel to the border of the tapestry. "This," she explained, "is the string of thought. One can discern the very thoughts in the minds of any observers in the age."
Levitating a part of the undone thread on her hand, Vairë muttered a most complex incantation. Envinyatar could see the threads glowing golden. Each tiny strand of fibre started undoing itself, each shimmering with golden light.
"Now, it is up to you… to choose" said Vairë.
Envinyatar had a hard time choosing. Most of the threads looked just about the same, glowing with the same light. They were also about the same length. Finally, he saw a unique thread- it seemed as if the strand was beckoning him. Indeed, he saw it was unique- first of all, it was longer than the others, and secondly, it seemed rather twisted, whereas the others were straight. Finally, it glowed with somewhat less light. He pointed it out to Vairë, and said: 'I have chosen'. It was Mandos, not Vairë, whose face instantly registered shock. Envinyatar could not comprehend how this was possible. The doomsman fixed the scholar with a piercing glare. Vairë too looked shocked. "If this means what I think it means…" she started. Envinyatar was confused. In a moment of audacity, he confronted the Valië and asked "What?"
Vairë could only get one word out: "Look…" And Envinyatar looked. He saw the floating strand, and its continuation on the tapestry. Initially, it was part of a twisted haze, but later on, its path became shockingly clear- it ran parallel to eight other parallel strands. Each of the nine were the same- yet different. Envinyatar could not guess what this signified.
"I have chosen" he repeated, in a firm voice. He would have never dared to speak like this in front of a Vala. Mandos looked ready to obliterate him with a look, but Vairë suddenly spoke.
"If that's what you wish…" She began. Envinyatar could sense the hesitation in her voice. But he also perceived another part of her- a part almost daring him to choose the strand, to see the effects it would have. He was not afraid.
"My lady… I have chosen" he repeated for the third time. Vairë gave a slow nod, then uttered the rest of the incantation. The golden light detached itself from the thread and made its way to the scholar's temple. As the rest of the thread fixed itself back on the tapestry, the golden light seemed to enter Envinyatar.
The light filled him, all of him. Very soon, he was not seeing through his own eyes, and he staggered back. Vairë hastily pushed a chair behind him, and he collapsed into it, in a swoon. Dimly, he heard Vairë mutter "Varda…" and the stamping of heavy feet, as Mandos exited the hall to look for the starkindler.
He could see nothing. He could hear nothing. All was black. All was dark. And the Darkness seemed to devour him.
Vairë seated herself back on her stool, resuming her never-ending task of weaving.