Disclaimer: As you must probably know, Tolkien owns everything related to
Middle Earth, etc., etc., etc., etc. I own Gwirith, etc, etc. You know how
this works, don't you? :p
Author's notes: 1)Again, huge THANKS to my dear dark MELLON Marija, THANKS FOR HELPING ME, AND FOR YOUR REVIEWS!!!! And to the rest of the people who is reading but not reviewing,..please, read and review, review, review, review !!!!!. Any ideas or some of the sort are welcome. Constructive criticism is welcome. 2)The chapter that will justify the R-rating will come soon.he he he.*evil grins* *dirty thoughts* .enjoy and comment!!!!
Chapter 3
The wind blew with all its strength upon his fair face. Chills danced slowly through his spine, shaking every single inch of his fairly white elven skin.
-Where should I start my search?. And what will I encounter?. This mystery will remain unsolved until I meet the challenge placed upon my shoulders.- said Legolas aloud, unable to fully comprehend his task in this quest.
The blonde elf approached his horse in the stables, caressed the mane of the animal and whispered a few words in Sindarin tongue . Afterwards, he mounted Roch Eressëa, also known as The Lonely horse, and galloped as fast as the beast allowed him to. He turned to contemplate the kingdom of his father, his future bequest, once Mirkwood was left behind a few leagues afield (*3). Sorrow had set in his eyes, for he did not want to leave his father alone to deal with the royal business. However, his father was the one insisting his heir to follow his Fea, for it was trying to reveal an unexpected event that might be closely related to his near future. Uncertain and deceiving seemed the clues, but he hesitated not a minute longer. He had to aid this individual in any way he could.
After almost half day without a breather, Legolas finally decided to take a break so he and his horse regained strength to continue their journey. He spotted a group of trees a few steps further producing a tempting shade.
He dismounted Roch Eressëa and settled the beast close to a tree. Collecting a few fall branches, Legolas prepared a fire, since the stars were eager to present themselves to the world to bring a cheer to those who needed it.
Once it was settled, Legolas started to lay (*4) a poem of yore that spoke of his kindred in the old days while bits of the remaining branches were cast by the blonde elf onto the on-going fire.
Earenna
Earenna, Earenna! Fáni maiwi yaitar, súre ráva, ar ninque winga hlápua. Andúnenna, Andúnenna, Anar rinda lanta. Sinda cirya, sinda cirya, hláralye te cána: ómar nórenyo i oantier yanna lelyuvan? Autuvan, autuvan taurellor nostienyo; an auremmar tyellar, ar yénimmar fifíruar. Termistuvan i palla néni, erya círala. Ande nar i.falmar métima hrestasse taltala, linde nar i.ómar Tol Vanwo cánala, Eresseo, Eldamardo Fírimain útúvima, yasse nár lassi alalantala: nóre nórenyo tenn'oio!
[To the Sea!] ['To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are wailing, the wind is roaring, and the white foam is flying. Westward, westward the sun's round is falling. Grey ship, grey ship, hearst-thou them calling: the voices of my people who have gone whither I am going? I will depart, I will depart from the forests of my birth; for our days are ending, and our years are fading away. I will fare across the wide waters, lonely sailing. Long are the waves falling on the Last Shore, sweet are the voices calling from the Lost Isle, from Eressea, from Elvenhome for mortals unfindable, where be leaves unfalling: land of my people for ever!' ](2*)
4/2 The Sea. The mighty element of Nature which meant for the elves to sail to the Undying Lands, their heaven to spend the rest of their immortal days. There was something sweet and beautiful in the calling he heard from deep within his memory, within his elven spirit. At the same time, though, it was a sad, almost desperate longing to reach to the beach, and in the beach he found himself. Quietness surrounded him, creating a smoothing effect in his mind.
Unexpectedly, the peace that a few moments ago overwhelmed his spirit left a confusing emptiness as if life had abandoned his body.
When he turned his gaze to see what was causing him so much distress, he could not believe his eyes. Blood. A cruel vision. Death. A female. Beauty. More abstract thought flooded his mind.
Legolas strayed into an elf's dream and returned quickly and startled to the waking world. The humming must have lead Legolas to rest his Fea, as elves do not sleep, they have waking dreams. Hence, he must have dreamed those confusing and obscure images.
***
Meanwhile, in darker, afar lands.
Some young male servants, Dariel and Seldszar, came to where Gwirith was taken and prepare a hot bath for her. She should be clean at least if she was to be sold. Although, before the transaction, Gwirith had to comply before her keeper.
Shyly the young males entered the room and point Gwirith in direction to the bathroom, a few steps away from her. She saw no menace in the servants' s eyes and she relaxed her brow. A smile was draw in her face.
-Will you both assist me or can I do it myself?
-I apologized but we have orders from her highness to do it ourselves.- answered Darin shyly rather than the typical ironic response a slave could receive.
-Do as you have to, then. I will not jeopardize your lives for a matter of decorousness- stated Gwirith no having further choice. The servants lead her to the bathroom and looked at her out of the corner of their eyes, doubtful about her origin and the reason for her imprisonment. She looked not a threat to them, contrary to what was said among them.
Male dark elves could do nothing. They acted against their will since every move was ordered by the matrons, the female elves. However, they have no other choice but death.
Once she before the tub, she stopped her walk and looked blushed at the servants. They were so kind that they turned their glance around to allow her undressed privately. She later sunk in the bottom of the tub and waited for the servants to look again.
-We shall turn now- said Seldszar aloud so as to confirm that her privacy was kept. A peaceful feeling produced by the careful caresses of the servants while bathing her overwhelmed her soul, sleep calling her name.
***
-Bring the slave before me!- yelled Elvanshalee, the matron, cracking her whip on her male servants.
-Yes, milady- said Nalfein, one of her servants, and rush off for the room where Gwirith was held hostage.
A guard received the instructions given by Elvanshalee, and dashed up the stairs to the corridors leading to gloomy dorms. A door was abruptly opened and Gwirith was obliged to be alert. She was already dressed up in an old cloak made of a rare fabric unknown to Gwirith. When she met the guard's look, she could see the anger that burst deep inside the eyeballs of the guard. She was nothing more than trouble to him. And he was getting anxious and furious for he was not able to do as he pleased with Gwirith.
-Rise and come with me, useless mortal- said the guard raising his long knife in one hand and grabbing Gwirith by the wrists in the most brutal manner with the other. The servants were not allow to respond for her, not even to aid her in any way. They could only look away.
-Let go of me, mischievous creature.
-Hold back your words or I will cut your throat- said Belgos, the guard. Seeing he attempted to rest his knife to her throat, she struggled no more and let herself been carried away before her highness Elvanshalee. She could not figure out how many moons was she unconscious before she was brought to where she dwelled at present. The corridors became wider ad wider but colder became the temperature as they reached a certain passage, awkwardly decorated. There could be make out battles, dragons, fire and destruction. Even the architecture of the building resemblance the old tower of Orthanc.
Once they reached what seemed the main room of some sort of old palace, the guard kicked the doors open and pushed Gwirith inside. Two other guards that were within the main room took good hold of her so as to prevent her from escaping. Roughly she was brought before a black throne. She managed to crouch and intended to look upon the silhouette sitting on the throne. A harsh punch on her face forced her aching body to collapse.
-You cannot look upon the matron. It is forbidden and the penalty is death.- replied angrily Belgos.
She uttered no word. She just tried to sit in the floor and wiped out the blood flowing from her mouth and nose. Even though she was not looking, she sensed a presence approaching near her. Too near to feel calm. Oddly, she felt another presence whispering in the ear of the first one.
-Is this her?- questioned Elvanshalee to the guard.
-Yes- was the only audible thing Gwirith was able to understand.
-Very well then- and the matron intended to return to her throne but she hesitated and turned to meet the guards glance . -A warning: if this is a farce, you shall pay it with your pitiless lives, do you all understand me?- and angrily cracking the whip.
-Yes, milady.- answered the frightened guards.
References: (2*)Translated by Erestor / Fredrik Ström. It is a Quenya prose translation of Legolas' song 'To the Sea!' (LR Book VI, ch. 4), taken from the Mellonath Daeron - The Language Guild of the Forodrim webpage.- (*3) away, especially from home.- (*4) is meant to be sung.-
Author's notes: 1)Again, huge THANKS to my dear dark MELLON Marija, THANKS FOR HELPING ME, AND FOR YOUR REVIEWS!!!! And to the rest of the people who is reading but not reviewing,..please, read and review, review, review, review !!!!!. Any ideas or some of the sort are welcome. Constructive criticism is welcome. 2)The chapter that will justify the R-rating will come soon.he he he.*evil grins* *dirty thoughts* .enjoy and comment!!!!
Chapter 3
The wind blew with all its strength upon his fair face. Chills danced slowly through his spine, shaking every single inch of his fairly white elven skin.
-Where should I start my search?. And what will I encounter?. This mystery will remain unsolved until I meet the challenge placed upon my shoulders.- said Legolas aloud, unable to fully comprehend his task in this quest.
The blonde elf approached his horse in the stables, caressed the mane of the animal and whispered a few words in Sindarin tongue . Afterwards, he mounted Roch Eressëa, also known as The Lonely horse, and galloped as fast as the beast allowed him to. He turned to contemplate the kingdom of his father, his future bequest, once Mirkwood was left behind a few leagues afield (*3). Sorrow had set in his eyes, for he did not want to leave his father alone to deal with the royal business. However, his father was the one insisting his heir to follow his Fea, for it was trying to reveal an unexpected event that might be closely related to his near future. Uncertain and deceiving seemed the clues, but he hesitated not a minute longer. He had to aid this individual in any way he could.
After almost half day without a breather, Legolas finally decided to take a break so he and his horse regained strength to continue their journey. He spotted a group of trees a few steps further producing a tempting shade.
He dismounted Roch Eressëa and settled the beast close to a tree. Collecting a few fall branches, Legolas prepared a fire, since the stars were eager to present themselves to the world to bring a cheer to those who needed it.
Once it was settled, Legolas started to lay (*4) a poem of yore that spoke of his kindred in the old days while bits of the remaining branches were cast by the blonde elf onto the on-going fire.
Earenna
Earenna, Earenna! Fáni maiwi yaitar, súre ráva, ar ninque winga hlápua. Andúnenna, Andúnenna, Anar rinda lanta. Sinda cirya, sinda cirya, hláralye te cána: ómar nórenyo i oantier yanna lelyuvan? Autuvan, autuvan taurellor nostienyo; an auremmar tyellar, ar yénimmar fifíruar. Termistuvan i palla néni, erya círala. Ande nar i.falmar métima hrestasse taltala, linde nar i.ómar Tol Vanwo cánala, Eresseo, Eldamardo Fírimain útúvima, yasse nár lassi alalantala: nóre nórenyo tenn'oio!
[To the Sea!] ['To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are wailing, the wind is roaring, and the white foam is flying. Westward, westward the sun's round is falling. Grey ship, grey ship, hearst-thou them calling: the voices of my people who have gone whither I am going? I will depart, I will depart from the forests of my birth; for our days are ending, and our years are fading away. I will fare across the wide waters, lonely sailing. Long are the waves falling on the Last Shore, sweet are the voices calling from the Lost Isle, from Eressea, from Elvenhome for mortals unfindable, where be leaves unfalling: land of my people for ever!' ](2*)
4/2 The Sea. The mighty element of Nature which meant for the elves to sail to the Undying Lands, their heaven to spend the rest of their immortal days. There was something sweet and beautiful in the calling he heard from deep within his memory, within his elven spirit. At the same time, though, it was a sad, almost desperate longing to reach to the beach, and in the beach he found himself. Quietness surrounded him, creating a smoothing effect in his mind.
Unexpectedly, the peace that a few moments ago overwhelmed his spirit left a confusing emptiness as if life had abandoned his body.
When he turned his gaze to see what was causing him so much distress, he could not believe his eyes. Blood. A cruel vision. Death. A female. Beauty. More abstract thought flooded his mind.
Legolas strayed into an elf's dream and returned quickly and startled to the waking world. The humming must have lead Legolas to rest his Fea, as elves do not sleep, they have waking dreams. Hence, he must have dreamed those confusing and obscure images.
***
Meanwhile, in darker, afar lands.
Some young male servants, Dariel and Seldszar, came to where Gwirith was taken and prepare a hot bath for her. She should be clean at least if she was to be sold. Although, before the transaction, Gwirith had to comply before her keeper.
Shyly the young males entered the room and point Gwirith in direction to the bathroom, a few steps away from her. She saw no menace in the servants' s eyes and she relaxed her brow. A smile was draw in her face.
-Will you both assist me or can I do it myself?
-I apologized but we have orders from her highness to do it ourselves.- answered Darin shyly rather than the typical ironic response a slave could receive.
-Do as you have to, then. I will not jeopardize your lives for a matter of decorousness- stated Gwirith no having further choice. The servants lead her to the bathroom and looked at her out of the corner of their eyes, doubtful about her origin and the reason for her imprisonment. She looked not a threat to them, contrary to what was said among them.
Male dark elves could do nothing. They acted against their will since every move was ordered by the matrons, the female elves. However, they have no other choice but death.
Once she before the tub, she stopped her walk and looked blushed at the servants. They were so kind that they turned their glance around to allow her undressed privately. She later sunk in the bottom of the tub and waited for the servants to look again.
-We shall turn now- said Seldszar aloud so as to confirm that her privacy was kept. A peaceful feeling produced by the careful caresses of the servants while bathing her overwhelmed her soul, sleep calling her name.
***
-Bring the slave before me!- yelled Elvanshalee, the matron, cracking her whip on her male servants.
-Yes, milady- said Nalfein, one of her servants, and rush off for the room where Gwirith was held hostage.
A guard received the instructions given by Elvanshalee, and dashed up the stairs to the corridors leading to gloomy dorms. A door was abruptly opened and Gwirith was obliged to be alert. She was already dressed up in an old cloak made of a rare fabric unknown to Gwirith. When she met the guard's look, she could see the anger that burst deep inside the eyeballs of the guard. She was nothing more than trouble to him. And he was getting anxious and furious for he was not able to do as he pleased with Gwirith.
-Rise and come with me, useless mortal- said the guard raising his long knife in one hand and grabbing Gwirith by the wrists in the most brutal manner with the other. The servants were not allow to respond for her, not even to aid her in any way. They could only look away.
-Let go of me, mischievous creature.
-Hold back your words or I will cut your throat- said Belgos, the guard. Seeing he attempted to rest his knife to her throat, she struggled no more and let herself been carried away before her highness Elvanshalee. She could not figure out how many moons was she unconscious before she was brought to where she dwelled at present. The corridors became wider ad wider but colder became the temperature as they reached a certain passage, awkwardly decorated. There could be make out battles, dragons, fire and destruction. Even the architecture of the building resemblance the old tower of Orthanc.
Once they reached what seemed the main room of some sort of old palace, the guard kicked the doors open and pushed Gwirith inside. Two other guards that were within the main room took good hold of her so as to prevent her from escaping. Roughly she was brought before a black throne. She managed to crouch and intended to look upon the silhouette sitting on the throne. A harsh punch on her face forced her aching body to collapse.
-You cannot look upon the matron. It is forbidden and the penalty is death.- replied angrily Belgos.
She uttered no word. She just tried to sit in the floor and wiped out the blood flowing from her mouth and nose. Even though she was not looking, she sensed a presence approaching near her. Too near to feel calm. Oddly, she felt another presence whispering in the ear of the first one.
-Is this her?- questioned Elvanshalee to the guard.
-Yes- was the only audible thing Gwirith was able to understand.
-Very well then- and the matron intended to return to her throne but she hesitated and turned to meet the guards glance . -A warning: if this is a farce, you shall pay it with your pitiless lives, do you all understand me?- and angrily cracking the whip.
-Yes, milady.- answered the frightened guards.
References: (2*)Translated by Erestor / Fredrik Ström. It is a Quenya prose translation of Legolas' song 'To the Sea!' (LR Book VI, ch. 4), taken from the Mellonath Daeron - The Language Guild of the Forodrim webpage.- (*3) away, especially from home.- (*4) is meant to be sung.-