"OF DREAMS AND RINGS"
CHAPTER TWO Torialas, Gailethil's mother paints while Gailethil is untended in her cradle. "Year 2618", 350 years before the birth of the RingBearer. The 30th of December.
"Stop Crying! Stop Crying! Stop Crying!" Torialas glared at the baby who whimpered in the cradle. She had not been an easy child to bear, and the beautiful elleth who carried her into the world had known the greatest pain that she had ever felt in her life. She had fallen into madness, and only just barely…just barely hung on to sanity. She had cursed the baby's father a thousand times over…she wanted to leave…but he had insisted upon waiting until the Last was born. Tall and stunning, Torialas Firespring was one of Arda's most pleasing creatures…in form alone. Her hair glimmered in the candle-light, her eyes a sparkling azure. She did not know where the baby's eyes had come from. Ice-Blue…not like Lomendil's murky green, or her own.
She feared those eyes, they seemed to look into her…like Galadriel had before she returned to Lorien. Torialas had been revered for thousands of years for the splendor of her looks. The baby in the cradle…was almost ethereal in nature…and her mother shivered. Finally, after so many long years of waiting the Last was born and she could leave Arda. How many times had she begged Lomendil to let them go, but he was steadfast and refused to abandon what fate had decreed.
Torialas reached down to lift the baby up, but felt a shudder of revulsion run through her. It was not that the baby was ugly, or that she did not have any less love for this child than any of her others. It was something…else. Something that lurked in the air. The stopped sniveling for a moment to look at the being that stood over her cradle. "Naneth…" it was a statement, not a request, or a desire to be held. The look in the small child's eyes was unfathomably disturbing. It was as if she could not understand something and was striving to ask questions before she could even speak properly. Torialas backed away from the child and returned to her painting. Dark waters…the sea that she longed to go to. It almost seemed that Gailethil was watching her paint…seeing something in the waters…the crying had subsided…for now and the Elleth painter sighed in relief.
….Naneth…I looked at her…but did not understand…Naneth was dead…I saw her drown…I heard the cries when she died…I looked across and saw a dark-haired boy with tossled curls resting his arms on the cradle…he looked like an elf…like one of us…but he wasn't…his deep blue eyes searching mine for a meaning…he did not understand either…and he had been crying for days…he did not even really seem to see me…I could tell… while the other Naneth painted…but he stayed with me…Who are you?…I wanted to know…where are you?….I wanted to be understood…I cried a little again…grasping at the air…so small…so helpless…and something watched both of us…it had no form…I looked over at the boy again…but he was gone…and I began to cry in earnest….earning a dark look from the one who called herself my Naneth…
Torialas was cold, and had been cold since the birth of Gailethil. Lomendil stepped into her studio and drew a shawl around his wife's shoulders holding her gently for a moment. No words were said, and he settled her back down. The Elvin lord went to his child and lifted her in his arms, rocking her gently, his back to his wife. "Its all right, now." the soft words from his lips for both the woman he loved, and the baby in his arms. "Everything is all right now."
"How can you say that?" Torialas demanded her eyes filling with tears, "Nothing is right about her!" the high-strung elleth then picked up her skirts and ran away…crying. Lomendil did not stop her, he had long since known the best way to deal with Torialas was to let her be alone when she wanted to be alone.
"There now…" he held the baby in his arms and soothed away the tears, his gentle voice singing softly
It went something like this…
Gwimla, Gwinla, Tithen Gail
Ye Aida an?
Or Arda Taur
O Silivrin Mithril Dai
Gwimla, Gwinla, Tithen Gail
Ye Aida an? "
It seemed to soothe her and her fingers curled around the pendant that hung on a chain about her neck. Her eyes sparkled up at her father. "Adar." she knew who he was…though she wondered why she knew that when "Naneth" did not feel right. She curled up in her father's arms, playing with a lock of his hair. He smelt nice…and rythmatic gentle voice was putting her to sleep.
As her eyelashes fluttered, Lomendil continued to sing. He watched his daughter struggle to keep awake in order to listen and smiled softly. She really was a special little one. He only hoped that someday Torialas would be able to deal with everything that had happened. His wife was slowly going insane, he'd known it since the birth of their first child, since Galadriel had warned them of the five that would come. He took his daughter out to the balcony and allowed the sun to shine its gentle rays down upon her. "I know not what is in store for you, little one." he told her softly, "I pray that Elbereth has a kind future in mind for you. I saw in the mirror many things…and maybe…just maybe…" he did not finish his words as he saw the little one yawn and her eyes close finally as she rests…without dreams. Elves do not sleep, but children need to close their eyes on occasion.
The ancient Elvin lord walked back to the cradle, his feet made barely a sound upon the stone floor. Before he lay the child down he froze…the hair on the back of his neck tingling and he turned around. "Whose there?" In a sudden swift motion, he already held a sharp dagger in his hand, his baby close to his heart. But nothing came forth…he had felt…perhaps he was mistaken. Glancing back again, he sheathed his dagger and curled the small child back into her bed, tucking the blankets around her.
As he walked out of the studio, Torialas was at the door with her maid, she seemed a lot calmer. His back to the room…Lomendil did not see the child stir, and that her breath could be seen…for just a moment…as though it was terribly terribly cold. He spoke briefly with his wife while invisible fingers of ice rested on the edge of the cradle.
….Precious….
CHAPTER TWO Torialas, Gailethil's mother paints while Gailethil is untended in her cradle. "Year 2618", 350 years before the birth of the RingBearer. The 30th of December.
"Stop Crying! Stop Crying! Stop Crying!" Torialas glared at the baby who whimpered in the cradle. She had not been an easy child to bear, and the beautiful elleth who carried her into the world had known the greatest pain that she had ever felt in her life. She had fallen into madness, and only just barely…just barely hung on to sanity. She had cursed the baby's father a thousand times over…she wanted to leave…but he had insisted upon waiting until the Last was born. Tall and stunning, Torialas Firespring was one of Arda's most pleasing creatures…in form alone. Her hair glimmered in the candle-light, her eyes a sparkling azure. She did not know where the baby's eyes had come from. Ice-Blue…not like Lomendil's murky green, or her own.
She feared those eyes, they seemed to look into her…like Galadriel had before she returned to Lorien. Torialas had been revered for thousands of years for the splendor of her looks. The baby in the cradle…was almost ethereal in nature…and her mother shivered. Finally, after so many long years of waiting the Last was born and she could leave Arda. How many times had she begged Lomendil to let them go, but he was steadfast and refused to abandon what fate had decreed.
Torialas reached down to lift the baby up, but felt a shudder of revulsion run through her. It was not that the baby was ugly, or that she did not have any less love for this child than any of her others. It was something…else. Something that lurked in the air. The stopped sniveling for a moment to look at the being that stood over her cradle. "Naneth…" it was a statement, not a request, or a desire to be held. The look in the small child's eyes was unfathomably disturbing. It was as if she could not understand something and was striving to ask questions before she could even speak properly. Torialas backed away from the child and returned to her painting. Dark waters…the sea that she longed to go to. It almost seemed that Gailethil was watching her paint…seeing something in the waters…the crying had subsided…for now and the Elleth painter sighed in relief.
….Naneth…I looked at her…but did not understand…Naneth was dead…I saw her drown…I heard the cries when she died…I looked across and saw a dark-haired boy with tossled curls resting his arms on the cradle…he looked like an elf…like one of us…but he wasn't…his deep blue eyes searching mine for a meaning…he did not understand either…and he had been crying for days…he did not even really seem to see me…I could tell… while the other Naneth painted…but he stayed with me…Who are you?…I wanted to know…where are you?….I wanted to be understood…I cried a little again…grasping at the air…so small…so helpless…and something watched both of us…it had no form…I looked over at the boy again…but he was gone…and I began to cry in earnest….earning a dark look from the one who called herself my Naneth…
Torialas was cold, and had been cold since the birth of Gailethil. Lomendil stepped into her studio and drew a shawl around his wife's shoulders holding her gently for a moment. No words were said, and he settled her back down. The Elvin lord went to his child and lifted her in his arms, rocking her gently, his back to his wife. "Its all right, now." the soft words from his lips for both the woman he loved, and the baby in his arms. "Everything is all right now."
"How can you say that?" Torialas demanded her eyes filling with tears, "Nothing is right about her!" the high-strung elleth then picked up her skirts and ran away…crying. Lomendil did not stop her, he had long since known the best way to deal with Torialas was to let her be alone when she wanted to be alone.
"There now…" he held the baby in his arms and soothed away the tears, his gentle voice singing softly
It went something like this…
Gwimla, Gwinla, Tithen Gail
Ye Aida an?
Or Arda Taur
O Silivrin Mithril Dai
Gwimla, Gwinla, Tithen Gail
Ye Aida an? "
It seemed to soothe her and her fingers curled around the pendant that hung on a chain about her neck. Her eyes sparkled up at her father. "Adar." she knew who he was…though she wondered why she knew that when "Naneth" did not feel right. She curled up in her father's arms, playing with a lock of his hair. He smelt nice…and rythmatic gentle voice was putting her to sleep.
As her eyelashes fluttered, Lomendil continued to sing. He watched his daughter struggle to keep awake in order to listen and smiled softly. She really was a special little one. He only hoped that someday Torialas would be able to deal with everything that had happened. His wife was slowly going insane, he'd known it since the birth of their first child, since Galadriel had warned them of the five that would come. He took his daughter out to the balcony and allowed the sun to shine its gentle rays down upon her. "I know not what is in store for you, little one." he told her softly, "I pray that Elbereth has a kind future in mind for you. I saw in the mirror many things…and maybe…just maybe…" he did not finish his words as he saw the little one yawn and her eyes close finally as she rests…without dreams. Elves do not sleep, but children need to close their eyes on occasion.
The ancient Elvin lord walked back to the cradle, his feet made barely a sound upon the stone floor. Before he lay the child down he froze…the hair on the back of his neck tingling and he turned around. "Whose there?" In a sudden swift motion, he already held a sharp dagger in his hand, his baby close to his heart. But nothing came forth…he had felt…perhaps he was mistaken. Glancing back again, he sheathed his dagger and curled the small child back into her bed, tucking the blankets around her.
As he walked out of the studio, Torialas was at the door with her maid, she seemed a lot calmer. His back to the room…Lomendil did not see the child stir, and that her breath could be seen…for just a moment…as though it was terribly terribly cold. He spoke briefly with his wife while invisible fingers of ice rested on the edge of the cradle.
….Precious….