Chapter 4 – Scattered and Spilled Seeds
S.A. 31
Eyes scanned the horizon. Rows and row of tiered earth stretched across the horizon, vineyard beyond vineyard littered the landscape in hues of green and purple. Large trees and hedge rows separating the different fields. Early morning fog lingered upon the ground, rising from the mountains in the distance, traveling over the River Running. The green eyes watched the spray lifting from the waterfall in the Dorwinion mountains. A sigh escaped parted lips. Elves were beginning to stir, the vineyard worker's days started early. Scanning her vision to the right, the shores of the Sea of Rhûn came into view. White washed building lined the shores, rising steadily as they came close to the palace and her balcony on carefully constructed tiers. Boats rose and fell at the docks as the waves rolled to shore, the blue water sparking in the blinding sun. Each level separated by bountiful gardens with lush greenery and abundant flowers. The palace walls rose gently from the surrounding buildings, rising ever higher in a semi-circle of white stone. At its top stood two round towers connected by an outdoor terrace. It rose hundreds of feet in the air.
Thirty years it had taken the elves of Aelion to rebuild, for thirty years they had had peace. It was thirty years to the day their city fell to the sea, to vanish from the world forever, the War of Wrath had taken everything from them. Eyes closing, Elarinya rested her head on her hands which rested on the balcony. The singing of her dreams ringing softly in her ears.
walking with feet unmoving
Breathing but my heartbeat has escaped
Thoughts scattered as dandelion petals in wind
Seeking an anchor
Seeking a hold
I feel you here but I cannot find you in the dustbowl that is my soul
There is a film of tears that cover my eyes
Dimming my vision, yet with clarity of polished glass, seeing the things that I desire not
Already I am weary of trying to carry my heavy heart
But to myself I must stay
No one must see
Nor feel the rain of unshed tears
Shaking her head, she pushed the voice from her mind, the haunted words of the haunted voice frightening her. From where did the voice come from? Why did the songs affect her so? It arose in her a desire to seek the one who sang with such sorrow, to wash away the pain. She rubbed a hand down her face as she pushed away from the edge.
She met her handmaiden upon entering her suite, who quite quickly ushered her to the bath. She had hours of preparation ahead of her for the Remembrance festival, to celebrate all those who lost their lives in the destruction of their old city. As the daughter of the king, she opened the ceremony.
"Come, come, we have much to do." The elleth scolded her, and she quietly followed, her mind drifting back to haunting voice.
Her dress was brought forth in three pieces. Stepping into the skirt, the dark burgundy velvet draped her legs to the floor as it settled on her hips. The material clinging to her body except where it split up the side, allowing free movement of her legs. Gold stars littered the velvet, shimmering in the sun, a band of thick golden cord wound the bottom hem. The top matched the bottom, its sleeves stopping just below her shoulders and the bottom falling at the top of her ribcage, leaving her torso revealed. A golden shawl came next. The end attached to her left shoulder, wrapping around her midriff and draped over her left arm, attaching to the gold bracelet there. Her right arm was adorned with many golden and red circlets, beautiful filigree chains dangling from them that jingled as she moved.
The customary warrior dreadlocks where left to hang freely around her face. Golden beads and thread entwined in their midst. The maid outlined her eyes in thick kohl, no other adornments where placed on her face, as was the custom.
It seemed liked hours passed before Elarinya heard the words that she was ready. Standing automatically, she made her way down the levels of the palace to the courtyard below, Evening was falling, she bright sun sitting low in the purple streaked sky. The inhabitants had already gathered, surrounding the glade at the center. She noticed none of this as she stepped into the ring. The flaming candles around them when dark, all noise stopped, and the musician picked up their tempo.
The music became her and her the music, her body moving to the rhythm. She danced alone in the sunset, casting magical tones. She weaved a mesmerizing tone, unbridled, as the dance poured from her heart, images of the fallen filling her vision. Reaching far far up into the sky, limbs in an elegant sway, in a pirouette, she danced for all those lost, calling them to remembrance. Her voice rang out clear and strong,
The ink is dry
Words escape me
So many thoughts
Scattered as spilled seeds upon the wind
A hope that some will plant themselves and grow
A hope there will be awakening within the dullness
Such senseless infuriating loss
How is it I wonder that such evil lives
Instead of dwelling there I choose to think on those who are good,
Those who love and care for their brothers and sisters
My heart is broken
My mouth is silent
Today I will simply remember
Those beautiful lives that shine as beacons in a darkened world
And hope that perhaps in even the tiniest of ways I might be a beacon too.
The scattered seeds have taken root.
Her dance finally slows as the sun sets beneath the mountains, as if drawn by invisible hands. The dance of Remembrance given this night, and relishing in the dream that has come to life, she collapsed on her knees, tears spilling from her eyes. They were tears for the lives lost, the families torn apart. They were tears for the self she lost, her innocence gone. They were tears for the hope of their future, the new dream they were creating. And they were tears for the voice on the sea that beckoned her always.
Awakening from her trancelike state Elarinya watched the candles and sconces burst forth, back to life, illuminating the faces around. A cheer went up through the crowd, a roar that shook the heavens. The musicians picking up a quick beat, bodies quickly flooded the glade, momentarily trapping her in the masses. Hips swayed and arms waved in the air.
Pushing through the throngs, Elarinya made her way to the marbled palace steps, taking her traditional seat beside her father. She sat straight and rigid in her chair, never looking at her father, and he never looking at her. Even since the day he raised his hand her to, their relationship had been strained and forced. Instead she took a goblet of wine and turned towards her mother. There was very little they had in common, her mother had not the desire her daughter did to fight, but with her estrangement from Morwë, she had made a point to spend more time with her when she was not training or on patrol. Surprisingly, Elarinya found she enjoyed the calming presence of her mother and the bond they formed.
"Go," her mother's voice rang in her ear, "Enjoy the festival with your friends."
She looked to the woman beside her and gave a small smile, downing her third goblet of wine, the strong alcohol causing her limbs to tingle. In no time at all she found Meldiriel, Ellethwen, and Faelon and joined their groups, for the first time in many years, letting herself be lost to the tempo of the music, her mind free from all thought except for the movement of her body.
…
A/N: so a bit shorter chapter than the others, but as I said, this will be more of a novella to another story I have in mind, so it will not be long. I used this chapter to start introducing some aspects of the Avarin culture I am creating, it will probably be very different from other elven groups, however, their basic principles will still be the same. I am taking inspiration from the ancient Norse/Vikings, and Indian/Arab influence for dress and hair, etc.
I still have my tumblr account, though I do not use it like I used to, I will be uploading pictures of my inspiration by Thursday night. Please take a peek, my username is Aralinn.
As always, please read and review! I love to hear from my readers!