Creation Song of Ilúvatar
Chapter 26 Star and Elf
Thranduil sat by Legolas, holding his son's hands. Legolas' life was held on by the most delicate of threads, a thread that needed tending, otherwise it might fray and release Legolas to the other side. With his thumb Thranduil passed over Legolas' callused fingertips. They had recently been filed down, a task common to archers. Oh the irony, Thranduil sighed, suppressing a sob. He could not remember the last time he had held his son's hands. That something so intimate that had been a common expression of love in infancy and childhood was something he might not be able to do again was more than he could bear.
Thranduil closed his eyes, keeping back the tears that threatened to run. He held on to his son's hands feeling for the hint of life that coursed in his veins, the slight feel of Legolas' heartbeat. One small revelation brought him small joy: that Legolas had found love. Dineth was allowed leave from her duties to come and see Legolas. She too was a warrior of the Wood, a young Silvan from the outer settlements. Her lineage was unmingled with those of the Sindar or other elves that had journeyed. This brought Thranduil a bit of solace. Legolas' love for one such as Dineth would tie him to their home, less a danger to fall ill to the Unquiet of Ulmo that betrayed those that began the Great Journey. He allowed himself these moments of hope. Thranduil needed them, needed to think of Legolas' future, unwilling to allow Shadow to claim his hope. But such was the need of the Wood that Dineth had to return to protect her home. These were dark times.
Thranduil turned to see the approaching figure of Elrohir. Elladan and Elrohir and been taking turns tending to Legolas. It was fortunate the sons' of Elrond were in the Wood for Thranduil did not believe he would have survived otherwise. Thranduil also understood that Legolas might not have come back to him still alive if it were not for the presence of Glorfindel when they were attacked. Luck, fortune, whatever it was, Glorfindel's presence meant that Legolas was not taken by Shadow then, and he would not be taken now, Thranduil resolved.
"I don't sense any improvement," Thranduil quietly spoke to the figure that now stood on Legolas' other side.
Elrohir placed his hand upon Legolas' brow, his head bent close to Legolas. "None yet," Elrohir shook his head, "though it is the best I could hope for."
Thranduil nodded his head in understanding. It was the best they could hope for. Legolas was not worsening and that mattered.
"Ada," a voice behind Thranduil spoke. "You must rest."
Thranduil did not turn to face his eldest son. "I can rest here," Thranduil replied, focusing his energy on Legolas.
"Then rest father, for you need your spirit to be strong to help Legolas," Laurenor affirmed. "Let me sit with him for now. Lie next to him if you must," Laurenor gently instructed his father.
"Yes Thranduil, you must rest," Elrohir murmured, his focus on Legolas.
Thranduil mumbled in agreement, taking his place next to his son. Elrohir came around to Thranduil and whispered words only Thranduil could here. The Woodland King's eyes were soon closed. Laurenor took Thranduil's place next to Legolas, holding his hand, remembering the last time they shared time together in the hot springs remembering their mother. Laurenor's mother was not far from everyone's thoughts. Thranduil's family could not withstand another loss, not Legolas, not any of them, though they knew that many had lost more than one and still the Silvan's marched on, found joy. This was strange to outsiders, strange to elves not of this place, for those other of the First Born, their grief would consume them, but not so here, not the Wood, Laurenor reminded himself.
)()()()()()(
Turwen, master trainer of Thranduil's forces and warrior for her people, for her home, walked aimlessly through the vast network of hallways that connected the different rooms of the cavernous keep. Her heart could bear no more. She felt it would break open if she allowed herself to cry. Legolas was on the edge of death. Faelon…Oh Faelon, her body shuddered. Laurenor had quietly shared the news of his death with her. The only solace she could find was that he had died in Legolas' arms, her brave Faelon. Now she cursed herself for keeping her heart closed to him, though her reasons for it came to be, Turwen cursed her actions for would it not have been better to have shared her heart with him? She knew his heart was given to her, but stupidly, she believed it wiser not to encourage him. She had seen the pain it caused those around her when lovers were ripped from one another by death. But it mattered not. Her heart was still broken, her soul shattered, but she was not the only one. It was not the only time death touched her so closely.
Faelon's parents were so heartbroken, she hadn't the heart to go see them. Turwen could not see them yet, see the same look in their eyes that she saw in her parents' eyes when the death of her older sister came to their door, a similar story. At least Faelon's body had been burned, whereas her sister's…Turwen curled over, unable to walk, her body dry heaving. It was too much, reliving her sister's death. But they survived it. The Wood kept going. In this moment Turwen did not want to go on. She heard an elf approach her, a hand placed gently on her back, soothing words whispered into her ear. Her body relaxed and she fell into the elf's arms.
Rainiel and Turwen sat on the floor, their backs perched against the stonewall of the small hallway. After a moment, Rainiel broke her supportive silence. "Come with me outside where our grief can release to the trees." Turwen nodded her head in agreement, slowly gathering herself to stand. The two made their way out the gates and into the day that was quickly becoming night.
Unknown to Rainiel, her son had only moments emerged from the Keep and out into the light. Though he kept vigil by Legolas' side, he hadn't forgotten there was another who would need his aid. Aníralendon felt compelled to cross the bridge and walk amongst the dense thicket of trees that bordered the river. There amongst the trees he spotted Araswen, the deer maiden, who had a strange look about her. The Shadow had weighed heavy on her. It affected mortals so much more, so differently.
"Luzen,"Aní quietly called out.
Luzen heard the familiar deep voice call her name. She lifted her eyes to see Aní walking towards her. His tired eyes revealed that he too had not slept, keeping watch by Legolas' side; yet here he was. She couldn't help but smile at the approaching figure. The guilt and shame she felt earlier, though not gone, were eased by the words of Glorfindel
Aní felt a comfort wash over him when Luzen smiled, a stirring of his heart. Of course, even in the darkest of times, love was medicine. Stopping before Luzen he placed the back of his hand on her cheek to feel her warmth, her mortal fire. Without thinking he leaned over and kissed her. This is what he needed, some respite, something outside of him. Luzen returned the kiss. Theirs was an uncomplicated thing. In days of bliss it would have been an easy romance, but these were not blissful times. Though Aní also understood that in better days, his family would not easily accept a relationship with a mortal, and less one with an outsider with such strange origins. Such a relationship would only portend heartbreak, but what did he care of that now? He would take whatever joy and light he could find and rejoice in that, for tomorrow he might die, tomorrow, Luzen might vanish like she appeared.
"Come," Aní whispered to Luzen, taking her deeper into the forest. Luzen followed. Though she was confused at how sorrow, anguish, and loneliness could keep company with her love for Aní and her strange and otherworldly desire for Legolas, she understood that her joy was like a stolen feeling. She would allow it for herself in this moment. And Legolas? Had she truly been the cause of Legolas' fall? She had been right about something, but had misjudged her knowledge. Legolas' fall, she understood now thanks to Glorfindel's wisdom, was precipitated by something beyond her. Yet she had a role to play somehow. This much the powerful elf had allowed her to understand, but beyond that she could not see.
The two, Aní and Luzen, walked through dense thicket that opened up into a small meadow filled with wild flowers. "Here," Aní quietly announced, "here we shall carve out some joy in these dark times. Luzen squeezed Aní's hand in understanding. She looked up to find him looking down at her, his hair unbound, shadowing his handsome face. "I will honor you Aní," Luzen whispered, "honor us and be with you here, though what may come next I do not know."
Aní knelt before Luzen, grabbing her hands to bring her down to him. "No we do not, but what I can give, what I can share with you, is something I do know," he replied unclasping the bodice of Luzen's dress. Luzen took hold of the edges of Aní's tunic, removing it. He was beauty and she desired him. Gently she allowed her fingers to trace over his torso, causing him to flinch, so charged was the energy between the two. Lips collided and hands undid garments until two bodies lay upon a bed of flowers, filling each other, finding the depths of each other's limits.
As their bodies descended from passion, the two laid in each other's arms, the sun setting somewhere behind the trees. Aní gathered Luzen in his arms, keeping her warm. "You are leaving," Aní said candidly. Luzen lost herself in his searching eyes, eyes she would never forget. "Yes," Luzen replied, "I think my time here is ending." Dread began to rise within her. She did not want to be alone, not again! Oh how the smallest of fears terrorized her.
"I sense it too," Aní continued, understanding the rising fear in Luzen. "I do not know how, but I feel the threads of your being slipping between my hands," Aní offered, fear also threatening him, but he was wiser than that fear. "Luzen, look at me," Aní whispered, willing Luzen to hold on and not succumb yet to the fear she had to dive into. Aní called her back, covering her with his body, his soft lips hovering over hers. Moments passed into hours as the lovers found themselves called back into one another. There was desperation now, a knowing that beyond the next sunrise theirs, their love, would be like a memory.
Luzen trembled underneath Aní's weight, the night air catching the sweat on her body. Aní covered her with his tunic. He felt the dread that was taking hold in her heart. "You must meet your fear head on Luzen." She still shivered but it was not because she was chilled. This was it. Whatever lay ahead of her was her way back, back to the original pain, to what she ran from. "Be at peace my Araswen," Aní soothed. "You will meet whatever may come with bravery, but do not forget love. Do not forget that you carry my love. That means something."
Luzen sobbed, wrapping herself more tightly around Aní. It did mean something, this love. "And I have found love in you. I love you Aní," Luzen whispered, her declaration of love like a revelation. She loved him. She loved them all, her leaf people, but Aní held her heart. And Legolas? Luzen was unsure but a small thought began to take hold in her heart. Maybe she was meant to go to Legolas as she crossed back to her world. Here she found herself wrapped in the warmth of her earthen star, but somehow the moon, the night sky would always call her back.
Of course, Êl a Edhel, Star and Elf, Luzen remembered the song sung by Legolas and his siblings so many nights ago. All this time she believed Aní was her earthen start, but no, it was she who was the star descended for a time, coaxed to this place by a strange song. She sang the first verse of the song softly to Aní and she witnessed his face collapse into sorrow. Of course he too understood, and together they quietly sang Êl a Edhel to each other:
"In the Greenwood's southern reaches
Stands a grove of golden beeches.
The Enchanted River's waters
Flow beside these woodland daughters.
Violet twilight there entrances;
Wind unfurls the golden branches.
Elves sing underneath the eaves
Of Varda's stars and Arda's leaves.
)()()(
Oft a minstrel came, a Silvan,
Singing to the trees in Elven
Ann-thennath of stars above.
A Star heard, and fell, in love,
To Middle-earth. "Night is falling!
- Can you feel my feä calling?
Do you feel the fiery yearning?
Do you see my star heart burning?"
)()()(
Now the lonely beeches linger,
Pining for their Silvan singer.
Elves and Stars are of a kind
Born to twilight, born to shine.
Elf and Star are now, forever,
High above the trees, together.
Elven-Star now shine as one,
East of the Moon, West of the Sun." [1]
)()()()(
It seemed the whole of the Great Wood was filled with a melancholy music. Glorfindel sat at the edge of a gathering, a large fire roared, but its spirit could not embolden the spirits around it. So the fire danced on, knowing that on this night it only provided warmth. The songs of the musicians rang true and sorrowful, yet full of a seductive lure. The musician's fingers ran nimbly over the lute-like instrument [2]. The music celebrated life, love, loss and tragedy, each chord being strummed, breathing life to the little documented life of Silvan society. The heart of the music was pulsating forth from the hands of the musician that tapped on a hollowed gourd that had leather stretched over its hollow mouth. The musician's hands would venture into the hollowed out end, changing the sound that beat forth from the drum. The music was haunting, beautiful, full of life, and the dancers swayed to the rhythmic incantations of the musicians. They danced, holding each other tightly, afraid that if they let go, they too would loose their precious hold on life. The previous days had held much loss and sorrow, scenes that the Silvan folk were too familiar with.
The strings of the lute reverberated with the purposeful strumming of its handler, eliciting a strange and beautiful music. The voices of the minstrels were heavy with sorrow, their melody evocative but soft and beautiful as only the voices of the wood folk could be. They sang of life under Shadow, and they yearned for a time when all was green and lives could be fulfilled; where little greenleafs could run freely without worry and pain. Such was the way of the wood elf, to be immortal yet caught in the most fragile of webs, where life could be swept away in a single instant. It is said the these are a simple folk, unlearned in the ways of the wise, but for those who dare look closer it is indeed a wise and wondrous people they have before them. For they do not dwell in the desires of power and dominance but in the beauty of the trees and the simple truth of love.
In this moment Glorfindel felt tears begin to overwhelm him. Legolas, oh Legolas, what could he do but weep for the life of a loved one, one of the few left who maintained his innocence and awe of the world? Glorfindel felt his age. He was not the only one. Across the fire sat Galuiel who was looking into the heart of the fire, watching the tendrils weave a pattern of light and warmth. Glorfindel knew his melancholy had a companion. He glanced across the clearing. Her dark hair caught the light of the fire, the same fire that cast shadows upon her face. Galuiel would return with him to Imladris, as would Elueth. They would sail soon after. Theirs, Galuiel's and Glorfindel's, was a story of love that was told through their peoples' Doom. He heard Galuiel's voice in his mind. It seems we are not meant to be together here, but perchance a different story will unfold across the Sundering Seas?
Glorfindel responded, his eyes fixed on her across the fire, Perhaps, but I don't like leaving my life to chance, so I say this, though you return with me to Imladris only to leave again, I will eventually go West and find you there. Doom or not, I will not be parted from you.
Even if much time stands between us? Galuiel's thoughts changed into words in Glorfindel's mind.
Even if time stands between us, as it always has, but I am patient, he replied. Glorfindel devoured Galuiel with his eyes, though she held his gaze, she bowed her head in understanding. That was all that was needed between them. Indeed it was a love that was born in the first age and so it was honest and patient, an enduring type of thing that Doom shaped. Glorfindel stood and sat next to Galuiel. Together they communed through the dark night, in vigil for those that had passed on and those that hovered at the edge of the veil between the living and the dead.
)()()()(
Aní awoke the next morning, his arms empty. Luzen's clothes lay next to him, but he did not go searching for her. She was gone. In his dreams, from far away, he felt her dissipate, melt into him. In his hands he held a lock of her dark hair, braided and knotted. This he tucked into a pocket to keep near him. Breathing in the cool morning air, though his heart was heavy he sensed a lightness to it. "Legolas," he cried out, "Legolas!"
[1] Versus from the song sung by Legolas and company in chapter 6, Êl a Edhel. The song verses were entirely composed by Chathol-linn, a great poet indeed. I could not have put this song idea to verse as she has so eloquently accomplished. My hats off to you Chathol-linn, an elven minstrel in human disguise!
[2]I am taking liberties in introducing the lute into Silvan society, but I do it in the spirit of Tolkien. He after all introduced corn and tobacco into Middle-Earth, and we all know corn was unknown in Europe until after contact with the Americas where it is from. The lute, or Ud was brought into Spain in the early 8th century by the Moors/North Africans and probably more generally into Europe with the advent of the Crusades. The Ud was adapted by Europeans, strings were added and the instrument morphed into the Lute.