Voices of the wind
She loved to walk in the forest in the early hours of dawn, when the leaves and branches of the trees were still spilled with dew and when the golden sunlight fell through the tree tops in bride shining rays, letting the dust dance in its warm light. She loved the songs of the birds and the jay´s calls when he spread his coloured wings to fly away through the light. She had always loved the forests. For her, they had a magic of their own. When she was here she felt comforted, safe, at home.
She felt the greatest joy when sneaking away from the castle in the early morning, when nearly everyone was still asleep and when only the towerguards recognized her being on one of her roamings again. Long ago they had given up trying to chase her, because they knew that the girl was like a bird, which would not let her take away this single hour of freedom each day.
Her father let her go, although he was not happy about it at all. All his advice, spoken rather harsh or even mild did not reach her ears although she might listen to him with bowed head. But as soon as she had left the room he was sure to know that she had already forgotten his words again as she always did. He did not understand his daughter, he had no sence for her love with the forest´s voices in the early morning´s dew. He did not understand what made her leave her chambers late at night to tip toe to the highest citadells of the castle to look at the stars. But he told himself that this was just the game of a child. The folly of youth which would pass soon, when she came of age.
But although his daugther was already 20 years old she made no attempt in leaving her childhood´s spirit behind. Often it seemed to him as though she had not yet left her child days behind although her behaviour was a woman´s. But for some strange reason she gave the impression not to age, or rather her youth still to be undimmed.
She was different from all the people here. Not only in spirit but as well in appereance. Most people here had wheat blond hair, their eyes were blue or green and their limbs slender but strong. But she seemed to have something of another kin. Her eyes were grey as the stormy sea and her hair was almost black, yet grey when the light of morning brake in it, but not grey from age but rather the grey of shadows which were never completely reveiled.
She loved the forests outside the city´s gates and even if her father´s eyes might follow her with sorrow when she left the walls in the morning he did not fear for her. The times of war were over, and there were no longer plundering hords in the forests- at least not in the forests of his kingdom. The animals would not harm her for they had been her fellows since she had been old enough to reach for them with her slender hand.
But when she was walking through the forest, her cloak softly bruising through the dew wet grass, she felt something that she could not explain. Once, when she had been a child she had already felt it, but lately it seemed to her as if the forest was full of voices. Voices which would reach her ear, but whose speakers were hidden in the shadows. Voices calling her name, accompanying her on her way, letting it seem as if the wind was singing in the meadows. And his song was full of mourn.
She called herself a fool, but when she walked the forests enjoying the view of the fair spring´s green she felt sadness and did not know why. She was happy and free, but there seemed to be something inside her which spoke to this sadness. Something that spoke to the voices of the wind. The voices, that seemed to whisper names she had never known, names full of beauty and pride, but strange to her ears and uttered in a tongue she had never heard.
The magic of the forest was not to be felt anywhere or at any time. But there were places where she physically felt that there was something that made her heart jump with excitement. As if she was sorrounded by beings she could not see but feel. Or as if there had once been something at the little well in the forest´s heart or at the rim of the forest opening towards the open land, something, whose magic was lost. Beings full of wonder and grace, but who did now no longer wander this world.
When she still was a child she had made it a game to give names to these creatures of the wind as she had used to call them. She had imagined them to roam through the forest by her side. She had thought of names, names which made her think of the whispered, strange language of the meadows where their voices came from. Lúthien she had called them, Eilinel or Maglor. They had been her fellows, the fellows of a child that imagines invisible friends. It had been a game.
But now she was nearly a woman although her face might seem younger but she was still able to hear those voices, voices singing to her full of sadness in a tongue she didn´t know but which her heart seemed to understand. She felt close to them although she couldn´t see them and her mind told her that they were not there at all, but maybe nothing more than a memory of those they once had been. Weren´t all those creatures from the legends reality? Where did legends come from?
This was why she went out in the morning and even if she felt sadness she enjoyed it with her heart altough she could not explain why. The voices of the wind were her friends, her fellows, when she let her fingers flow through the wet leafs in the morning. They were with her, passing shadows of a lost world, a lost time, which sang their silent songs in her shadow grey hair.
She loved to walk in the forest in the early hours of dawn, when the leaves and branches of the trees were still spilled with dew and when the golden sunlight fell through the tree tops in bride shining rays, letting the dust dance in its warm light. She loved the songs of the birds and the jay´s calls when he spread his coloured wings to fly away through the light. She had always loved the forests. For her, they had a magic of their own. When she was here she felt comforted, safe, at home.
She felt the greatest joy when sneaking away from the castle in the early morning, when nearly everyone was still asleep and when only the towerguards recognized her being on one of her roamings again. Long ago they had given up trying to chase her, because they knew that the girl was like a bird, which would not let her take away this single hour of freedom each day.
Her father let her go, although he was not happy about it at all. All his advice, spoken rather harsh or even mild did not reach her ears although she might listen to him with bowed head. But as soon as she had left the room he was sure to know that she had already forgotten his words again as she always did. He did not understand his daughter, he had no sence for her love with the forest´s voices in the early morning´s dew. He did not understand what made her leave her chambers late at night to tip toe to the highest citadells of the castle to look at the stars. But he told himself that this was just the game of a child. The folly of youth which would pass soon, when she came of age.
But although his daugther was already 20 years old she made no attempt in leaving her childhood´s spirit behind. Often it seemed to him as though she had not yet left her child days behind although her behaviour was a woman´s. But for some strange reason she gave the impression not to age, or rather her youth still to be undimmed.
She was different from all the people here. Not only in spirit but as well in appereance. Most people here had wheat blond hair, their eyes were blue or green and their limbs slender but strong. But she seemed to have something of another kin. Her eyes were grey as the stormy sea and her hair was almost black, yet grey when the light of morning brake in it, but not grey from age but rather the grey of shadows which were never completely reveiled.
She loved the forests outside the city´s gates and even if her father´s eyes might follow her with sorrow when she left the walls in the morning he did not fear for her. The times of war were over, and there were no longer plundering hords in the forests- at least not in the forests of his kingdom. The animals would not harm her for they had been her fellows since she had been old enough to reach for them with her slender hand.
But when she was walking through the forest, her cloak softly bruising through the dew wet grass, she felt something that she could not explain. Once, when she had been a child she had already felt it, but lately it seemed to her as if the forest was full of voices. Voices which would reach her ear, but whose speakers were hidden in the shadows. Voices calling her name, accompanying her on her way, letting it seem as if the wind was singing in the meadows. And his song was full of mourn.
She called herself a fool, but when she walked the forests enjoying the view of the fair spring´s green she felt sadness and did not know why. She was happy and free, but there seemed to be something inside her which spoke to this sadness. Something that spoke to the voices of the wind. The voices, that seemed to whisper names she had never known, names full of beauty and pride, but strange to her ears and uttered in a tongue she had never heard.
The magic of the forest was not to be felt anywhere or at any time. But there were places where she physically felt that there was something that made her heart jump with excitement. As if she was sorrounded by beings she could not see but feel. Or as if there had once been something at the little well in the forest´s heart or at the rim of the forest opening towards the open land, something, whose magic was lost. Beings full of wonder and grace, but who did now no longer wander this world.
When she still was a child she had made it a game to give names to these creatures of the wind as she had used to call them. She had imagined them to roam through the forest by her side. She had thought of names, names which made her think of the whispered, strange language of the meadows where their voices came from. Lúthien she had called them, Eilinel or Maglor. They had been her fellows, the fellows of a child that imagines invisible friends. It had been a game.
But now she was nearly a woman although her face might seem younger but she was still able to hear those voices, voices singing to her full of sadness in a tongue she didn´t know but which her heart seemed to understand. She felt close to them although she couldn´t see them and her mind told her that they were not there at all, but maybe nothing more than a memory of those they once had been. Weren´t all those creatures from the legends reality? Where did legends come from?
This was why she went out in the morning and even if she felt sadness she enjoyed it with her heart altough she could not explain why. The voices of the wind were her friends, her fellows, when she let her fingers flow through the wet leafs in the morning. They were with her, passing shadows of a lost world, a lost time, which sang their silent songs in her shadow grey hair.