The Play of the Immortal
Installment One--The Leaves of Fall
Prologue: A Legend Comes to Life
Author: Dava
The Play of the Immortal
The month is June. The year is 3018, 26 Afterlithe by Shire reckoning, and it is the dawn of Loa in the far away kingdom of Kel-Telpeon.
Kel-Telpeon was a magical place, free of all evil, with it's gentle waterfalls, and modest woodlands. All who traveled through it felt instantly warmed as they passed under its aquatic gates. There was never a more perfect sight in all of Middle Earth. Yet, perhaps the most appealing aspect of this quiet breathtaking world were the people who dwelled there. For, Kel-Telpeon was home to a clan of truly fascinating Elves known as the Nenore.
The Nenore were quite unique from others of their immortal race, for they had gills on their ribs which enabled them to breathe under water for significant periods of time. They also held in their possession webbed fingers to help them move through the sea at speeds which would've killed the mortal folk. And, most Nenore, though peaceful folk they were, had exceptional battle skills. These Elven Merfolk were ready to attack at a moments notice should they've felt threatened. And the Nenore maidens were the best of this lot.
Yet, in the hour of our tale, the Water Elves lay down their swords in favor of hosting a festival of grand and glorious proportions on their beautiful land. To this master affair, they welcome Elves from all over Middle Earth, gathered together to test their knowledge of game and sport. But a bitter divide can be expected of these powerful creatures of Earth and Water. For, as the games commence, the Elven lords learn that they have, indeed, met their match in these most feminine warriors of the sea. Far and away, the most skilled of the Earthy contenders is Nefpaurion the Wise. Just as handsome as he is tough, it is said that Nefpaurion is untouchable by those of his Lorien race. His way with a sword is remarkable. He rides his stallion with speed and grace, and his archery abilities can only be challenged by those of Legolas Greenleaf, the fair Prince of the Mirkwood Realm. Yet, as the Golden ship of Galadriel docks on Kel-Telpeon's shore, Nepaurion might soon know that the challenges he is about to face are more than he bargained for.
"Leaving so soon, Your Highness?" smiled Nefpaurion as he stepped off the ship with the other members of the Lorien Army. "Ah, Legolas. How goes it on this fine summer morn'?"
Legolas was busying himself among his fellow Mirkwood travelers when he turned around in friendly greeting. "Hello Nefpaurion," he replied. "I must confess, I have never felt finer. How can one not feel glorious on a morning such as this, in a place of such splendor?" The two friends laughed heartily as they embraced one another in a most cheerful reunion.
"Oh, how wonderful it is to see you again," said the prince. "I expect you'll be wanting to sweep the Elven games as usual?"
"Naturally!" boasted the elf. Nefpaurion seized his belongings from the beach and began to load them into a smaller, waiting vessel. "As I know it to be, there is no Elf Lord within leagues of Middle Earth who can match my abilities. In fact, I debated whether to come at all. The Elven games seem to be losing their challege with every passing year."
"Ah, but the Nenore clan has not hosted such a festival in many years," replied Legolas, who also began to load up his boat. "You are not aquainted with the folk here. I have it on good authority that the people of Kel-Telpeon are highly skilled, especially the Kel-Telpeon Maids."
At this, Nefpaurion lost his grip on the bundle he was carrying. Seizing the canoe in front of him for support, tears formed in his eyes as he did his best to control the laughter in his throat.
"The Nenore?" he choked. "And . . . the Nenore Maidens?!? Oh, surely you jest!" The young warrior took a moment to compose himself before continuing with a rather pleasant grin. "I mean no disrespect, of course. The Nenore are very gracious indeed to have opened their home and hearts to us. They are a lovely race, yet I doubt they know much about sport outside of these watery gates."
"Do not be so certain, old friend," said Legolas. "There is talk in Mirkwood of a flawless Nenore beauty in particular. A healer of sorts, with an intense love for nature, and exceptional skills of battle. She, who they call "Rainflower.
Nefpaurion ceased his packing for a time and pondered this unusual reply. "Rainflower?" he asked. "Ah, yes. The Elven lass born of a mortal woman. Her name is not unknown in The Golden Wood. Within the walls of the fair Queen's dwellings, I have heard many tales of a Nenore goddess who heals all sickness and converses with the animals. They say she is the loveliest She-Elf to ever walk Middle Earth." The very thought of her brought a smile to the warrior's lips. "But, such a being does not exist," he whispered. "It does no good to dwell on myths, Your Grace. You really ought to know better."
Legolas sighed as he and Nefpaurion finished loading their baggage into the boats and were preparing to set sail into the village, when, suddenly, the winds blew forth a terrible chill.
"Did you hear something?" asked the Prince as he scaled the beach with alarming caution.
Nefpaurion listened closely with his keen elvish ears. "It's coming from the shore!" he shouted.
Together, the Mirkwood royal and the Lorien soldier raced toward the Kel- Telpeon bank to gaze up in astonishment at the sight before them. A great wave was swiftly traveling toward them, and as it neared the beach, began to take on a feminine shape.
"What is it?" gulped Nefpaurion in muffled horror. The great shadow of the water rose high above the Elves.
"I'm sure I don't know," whispered the shaking prince. "Get Down!!!"
Legolas quickly took cover, throwing himself face down into the sand, while Nefpaurion was knocked off his feet by the myterious figure. Bounding its weight upon the Earth, the ocean took the form of a great white horse beginning to gallop, its rider shouting orders of retraction.
"Mithkhelekion, Nilanoon telerin! Nilanoon telerin! (Sea Breeze, turn around! Turn around!) The lady raced toward the fallen lords, and dismounted. "I am terribly sorry!" she cried, as she knelt at their sides. "Are you hurt?"
"Not at all, My Lady," replied Legolas, scrambling to his feet and dusting himself off.
Nefpaurion, however, was not so forgiving. "Though it might do you good to watch where you ride in the future," he added.
The maiden glared at the raven haired Nefpaurion for a moment, before turning her attentions back to the kindly blonde elf.
"You shall have to forgive poor Sea Breeze," she said sweetly. "He does not always obey my commands."
Legolas nodded, watching the Nenore as she extended her hand to his strickened companion.
Nefpaurion grumbled as he got to his feet. " An animal like that one ought to be chained, Lady . . . Umm, I'm sorry. I do not believe I caught your name."
"I have not said it, My Lord." The Elven lady turned and mounted her horse once more. "This animal, as you call him, is a kind and noble creature-" She paused for a moment, pondering this statement before smiting her opposer with "-to kind and noble folk, that is. Futhermore, it may do you well to remember that you are a guest in these parts. You ought to mind your manners, Sir. Our kind are not one you need for an enemy." She took the reins then, bowing politely to the Mirkwood Prince. "My Lord, Gentlemen, I take my leave of you both." With that, the maiden turned on a hoof, and galloped off toward her homeward village.
Legolas bore a playful grin as he looked upon his dusty friend. "Lord Nefpaurion, do tell me. What was it you were saying before about the Water Elves knowing nothing of sport?"
Nefpaurion turned, holding back laughter as he shook his head. "Amin delotha lle. (I hate you) was his reply.
