CHAPTER VIII: Of Cuifhiainan and the Sundering of the Elves
Greagoir frowned sadly and laid his chin upon his chest. "I grow weary, Tatya, so weary," the scribe mumbled to his apprentice. "I have given you a reprieve, but now it is time for you to take up the story. Fetch me my pipe and light it, if you would."
Tatya shrugged in defeat. The apprentice retrieved the master's pipe -- an intricately carved affair made of briarwood -- with a bowl shaped into the likeness of a fierce dragon, whose trailing, scaled tail was the long pipe-stem. Greagoir claimed it was made in a village called Bree, by Hobbits, or Halflings, or some other such race Tatya was quite sure he would never see in his lifetime. Carefully packing the bowl, Tatya wished that pipeweed had never been discovered. It seemed that some trade mission to the West had brought the plant back to Marannan-astair many years ago. Finding that the weed, called Nicotiana, proved easy to cultivate in the moist, warm soil of the island, the merchants and Ship-lords, ever seeking a means to expand commerce, began to exploit the addictive properties of the weed, and exported it in great bulk to the khanates and petty-princedoms along the Gold Coast, where its effects were highly prized. Now there was hardly anywhere on the island where one could go without seeing the plant being grown, harvested or cured.
Tatya lit the pipe hastily, dreading the taste of the stuff, and quickly handed it to his master, who began puffing away quite merrily. It was the one great vice Greagoir still clung to stubbornly in his old age, and the gray beard about his mouth and his moustache were stained a permanent yellow from the smoke (another reason to avoid the foul weed, Tatya thought). Seemingly lost in reminiscences, the master clenched the mouthpiece thoughtfully between his teeth, allowing languid wisps of smoke to trail aimlessly about his head, like the shapes of faded spirits seeking audience with a necromancer.
"Read for me of Cuifhiainan, Tatya," Greagoir said absently, "from the notes of my dialogue with the great Baird-Riordan, Seanchai of the Sidhe. My only wish is that I had the text of the story written by the Elves of the West, so as to compare the two. But I am old now, and very tired; and it has been many years since I heard the tale..so many years..."
Tatya had hoped that his master would doze off then, but, sadly, that was not the case. So the disgruntled apprentice picked up the volume of notes, written in Greagoir's bold scrawl, and began his recitation:
There was the faintest murmur of wind on water rippling, gently whispering in their ears, and they stirred. Opening their eyes they beheld the fiery stars -- countless in their glittering -- kindling the twilight canopy that lay overhead, and they were aware. Thus were the Firstborn roused from timeless sleep along the starlit mere of Cuifhiainan, the Water of Awakening, when the world was young. And in aftertimes it has been said the gaze of the Elves were thence ever lifted skyward, for they hallowed the starlight, their first sight in the waking world; but the sound of water, of sea-breeze on the waves, stirs a wistful yearning in their hearts, calling to them as if from a dream.
The Elves rose from the shadows of the Great Sleep of Ardan, rubbing their eyes as those newly-wakened from a brief rest, and their eyes thirstily drank in all that they might see. Curiosity grew apace with the Elves' newborn thirst for knowledge, and they set about to explore their darkling world, so wondrous and beautiful. Language they devised, the first speech of Middle-earth, and the Elves delighted in giving names to each new thing they encountered, whether the birds of the air, or the animals of the forest, or the plants and trees. Many things that slumbered still in the Great Sleep were wakened at that time by the sound of Elvish laughter, and the Firstborn taught speech to those things that had the capacity to learn from them. And the tranquil morning of Cuifhiainan was filled with a stirring and a great flowering, and everywhere there was abundance and peace beneath the starry skies of evernight.
And so the Elves flourished in their solitude, content for a long age, and grew strong of stature and mind along the twilit mere; and they danced and sang upon the white sands of its shore, or wandered deep into dark forests in search of new life, or scaled the lofty peaks to the east, or merely sat rapt in silent reverie by tranquil ponds splashed by effervescent falls; and Cuifhiainan proved to be all things joyful and marvelous to them. And yet their joy proved even greater, for in the noontide of their bliss were born the first children of the Elder race; and the Elves rejoiced in the giving of life, for they now had cherished offspring to share with them the wonders of the infancy of their race.
But such is the sad tale of Middle-earth that peace and happiness may last a day, or a season, or even an age, but naught can last forever within the bounds of Ardan; and so it was with the bliss of Cuifhiainan. The one they name Morgadh the Corrupter, Dark Enemy of the World and its most ancient Evil, heard at last from his spies of the waking of the Elves and their blessed contentment along the twilit mere. Long had Morgadh sought for the Elves, wishing to ensnare them with his deceits, or destroy them if he must, before the Bailard, the Lord Protectors of Ardan, discovered their existence.
For Morgadh was once a kindred spirit of the Bailard before the shaping of Ardan, The World That Is, but his jealousy and will to dominate all things in Ardan caused the Bailard to expel him from their order and banish him from Bailleaniar, the Blessed Realm of the West. Morgadh hated the Bailard for this, and ever did he attempt to mar the things of beauty the Bailard created or hallowed; and he hated the Elves, whom the Bailard waited for with great anticipation, for the Elves were to be firstborn and greatest of the peoples of Middle-earth, imbued with the spirit of Aeru, The One, the creator of all things; and though the Bailard were great, they were merely vassals of Aeru, governing Ardan in his stead, and ever did they obediently seek to fulfill his designs.
Morgadh then set a watch about Cuifhiainan, and he sent forth grim shadows to haunt the hills above the mere, and grisly, fanged beasts he loosed in the forests; and these sinister shades and warped things waylaid unsuspecting Elves, and devoured or enslaved them -- taking them whither no one shall ever know. The Elves were disheartened and dismayed, for a nameless fear stalked them in the darkness, and they dared not venture far from the safety of their kindred. Many there were of the Elves who sang no more, for sorrow choked their voices, and Cuifhiainan was ever diminished at the loss of their songs; yet other Elves arose in anger, for in the blaze of their youth they were undaunted by these nightstalkers. Fearlessly they went out to hunt these vile beasts, and sentries were set against the hills to guard against the encroachments of the enemy; but such efforts proved of little avail, for the minions of Morgadh swarmed into the hinterlands. Still there were those Elves who labored unceasingly against the onslaught, whether their cause was hopeless or not; and some became overproud of their achievements, and loved too much the land of their birth. A time would come when these fiercely independent Elves would make rash decisions, blinded by their pride, to their own ruin and the sorrow of many.
It was in that time of despair and turmoil the Elves first heard the great horn of Araugh resounding over hill and hollow. Some of the Elves feared this was the dire trumpeting of yet another shadow-hunter sent to prey on them; but many believed this was not so, for the mighty clarion call uplifted their spirits, and seemed to lighten the darkness which enshrouded them. And the bravest of the Elves, as if summoned by the call, went forth to seek the source of the heavy horn blasts. To the Elves' wonderment, they beheld that it was Araugh the Hunter, new come from the Blessed Realm unto the eastern lands of Ardan. The noble Huntsman of the Bailard shone spectrally in the starlight, all in bejeweled mail a' glittering, and he rode astride Naihaer Gan Athair, the father of all horses, whose hooves sparked with golden light as he pounded across the stony fields.
Araugh felt boundless joy in having at last discovered the Elves, and he came among them as a shepherd who had long sought for his lost flock. Many seasons did he tarry on the shores of Cuifhiainan with the Elves, sharing what knowledge was useful to them. But even though there was much gladness in their meeting, and with the long seasons he spent among the Elves, Araugh's heart remained troubled. The dreaded creatures of Morgadh had all fled from Araugh's wrathful countenance, and the bliss of the Elves returned for a time while Cuifhiainan was under his guardianship -- that much was was true; but well Araugh knew the shadows would lengthen and the terror return once he passed into the West. Therefore, he deemed it wise to seek council with his Bailard brethren, and devise a means to assure the long-term peace and safety of the Elves. With this in mind, Araugh bade farewell to the Elves -- if but for a short time -- and astride mighty Naihaer, he flew with winged speed into the West and to the Undying Lands, crossing the Shadowy Sea as if it were but a middling stream.
At Araugh's urging, a great council of the Bailard was called, and they were summoned from the depths of the sea, and from the limitless sky, and from the very roots of Ardan itself, to discuss the plight of the Elves. And the Bailard met in the Ring of Doom, the circle of fate wherein all matters of the greatest import are adjudged by the Bailard. In the furthermost west it lies, nigh on the dark shores of heaven itself, where earth at last meets the horizon. Within the Ring Araugh spoke for the Elves, recalling their dire peril and of the ever growing menace of Morgadh, who would soon enslave and destroy the Elves if left unchecked. So impassioned was Araugh's plea on the Elves' behalf that many of the council were moved to tears. Thus stirred to pity for the Firstborn -- more so because they greatly desired to see them -- the Bailard deigned that the Elves should be brought to Bailleaniar; therein to dwell under the protection of the Bailard, and to share with them the eternal bliss of the Blessed Realm.
But Tulcathas the Strong, Araugh's brother, declared that the Bailard should go further to restrain Morgadh. Too long had that ancient corrupter arrogantly flaunted his evil will while the Bailard sat idly by, safe beyond the cares of Ardan. Now was it time for them to reclaim their own; therefore, Tulcathas demanded the Bailard should make war upon Morgadh immediately. For this course of action the hot-tempered Araugh was of like-mind, as were others on the council; and so it was that the Bailard and their vassals girded for war. The onset of their invasion was swift, and Morgadh's forces were consumed as if by fire, for the Bailard's wrath was great. To the northern wastes of Ardan the Bailard and their hosts marched, unto the very walls of Uthuamhano, Morgadh's great fortress of fear, there to lay siege and draw out the Evil One. But Morgadh, who had been caught off guard by the Bailard's initial attack, would not surrender without a furious effort. Thus from the hidden pits and lairs of Uthuamhano were vomited forth Morgadh's vast reserves, and in their train were many Baolruaigs, warrior-demons of terror corrupted to Morgadh's service before Ardan's forming.
No news came to Cuifhiainan of the great and terrible war, save for the horrible tumults that rocked the earth, and the reek of war that blighted the skies to the north and swallowed the stars with ghastly smokes. But though the Elves knew naught of the wrathful war, neither Morgadh nor his servants ever forgot that it was fought on the Elves' behalf. For Morgadh was assailed on all sides by the divine might of the Bailard, and his ramparts and towers were rent asunder, and his legions destroyed or fled; and at the last Tulcathas the Strong did drag the cowering Morgadh out of Uthuamhano by the scruff of the neck, and threw him on his face before the Lords of the West. There Morgadh was forced to humble himself, and ignobly sue for mercy at the feet of the victorious Bailard; but the very source of all evil in Middle-earth was shown no pity, and he was bound in enchanted irons and taken captive back to Bailleaniar. For a long age of Ardan Morgadh was held prisoner in the Undying Lands; but though there was peace for a time, the Bailard had not laid bare all the hidden vaults and subterranean lairs of Uthuamhano, 'ere they razed it to the ground; and many of Morgadh's minions, including his greatest lieutenants, escaped the wreck and eluded capture.
Then did Araugh the Hunter return to Cuifhiainan, summoning the Elves to join him on the journey back to Bailleaniar. But whether through fear of the unknown or love of their homeland, most of the Elves were loathe to leave the starlit mere; therefore Araugh chose three of the Firstborn, Ingui, Fionnui and Ealui, each the chieftain of a large Elvish House, and took them to bear witness to the splendor of the Blessed Realm. When the three at last rejoined their kindreds they proclaimed that Bailleaniar was all that Araugh said it would be, and more; and it was through their earnest testimonials and prompting that a greater part of their Houses chose to leave. Yet such was the doubt that remained among the Elves that many were still undecided about leaving, and some refused the summons altogether. Such a one was Ingloir, a chieftain among the Firstborn.
Ingloir it was who first set out to trap the beasts and spies of Morgadh in the times before Araugh came amongst the Elves. Many of the Elves claimed that Ingloir had no fear in him (and many more said that was not necessarily a good thing), but he had grown powerful and his House was great amongst the Elves. In earlier days Ingloir had been a favorite of Araugh, having been one of the first Elves to greet the Bailard when first he came to Cuifhianian, and he went often with Araugh on hunts in the deepest of the ancient forests. Much he learned from the Huntsman of the Bailard in the ways of tracking and of combat, and some say too much, for Ingloir envied Araugh's bright spear and his great sword and his shining shield and helm. In secret, Ingloir and his kinsmen learned the art of weaponscraft, mining the ore from the mountains to the East, and great store of razor-sharp spears, long bows, and lofty helms they hoarded away. Now, secure in his House's strength and trusting in his own wisdom and valor, Ingloir spoke openly against the summons.
"Why should we, the people of the Firstborn, seek for the far country of the Bailard, and surrender without a fight these lands so many of our own have died to keep?" Ingloir demanded. "Behold! We no longer have Morgadh to harass us, for the Bailard have imprisoned their own, which is as it should be! As for the Bailard, who among you wishes to be allotted a mean strip of land in Bailleanar, and come and go only by the leave of the Lords of the West? However kindly their intentions seem, I choose not that yoke; more so since it is said that perhaps the Bailard plan to deliver up our land to the Aftercomers -- a sickly race of usurpers -- who, it is told, shall rise as soon as we depart! No, I shall not answer the summons; here in starlight I awoke, and here I shall stay till the darkness of death take me!"
And many of the Elves were swayed by Ingloir's proud and rebellious words, for they had not yet heard of this mortal race that was to come and rule in their stead, and great was the clamor and anger amongst them. But when Araugh heard of these rumors, he was saddened and wrathful, for in these lies he heard the deceits of Morgadh still at work, though he was a prisoner of the Bailard. Yet in no way would Araugh seek to dissuade those Elves who chose to stay, deeming that forceful denials and attempts to cajole them would cause further mischief. But Araugh did have stern words for the scornful and misguided Ingloir, reminding the Elf of their longstanding friendship and alliance, and Ingloir did repent of his wrongful accusations against the Bailard. But though he no longer spoke openly against the summons, Ingloir's heart was still set, and he stubbornly refused to follow Araugh into the West.
Bitter was the parting when at last Araugh guided the kindreds of Ingui, Fionnui and Ealui from Cuifhiainan, for some that departed wished to stay, and others who remained yearned to leave. So distressing was this sundering that the greater part of the Elves of Ealui's clan tarried overlong, and had to wait for vassals of Araugh to return and guide them forward once again. Even in the House of Ingloir there was dissension, for the chieftain's own son, Ilrin, spoke often in favor of answering the summons during the councils of his father; for the kin of Fionnui were dear to Ilrin, and he wished not to be parted from them. At last in anger Ingloir upbraided Ilrin, deeming that his son wished to supplant him in the favor and stewardship of his kindred, and he demanded Ilrin's loyalty.
Saddened by such mistrust, and for such a hateful rebuke, Ilrin replied, "Father, I cannot give thee more than that which thou already have in full measure."
But Ingloir's heart had grown hard with pride, and his son's desire to depart into the West with Fionnui's folk he took as a personal affront. "Proofs I will have!" Ingloir charged of his son. "For it is clear that thou wishest to draw off the greater strength of our Kindred and lead them hence to Bailleaniar!"
Ilrin knelt before his father, and replied, "What proofs dost thou seek? How can a son prove his love and fealty to his father? Thou hast only to name it."
"I will hear an oath taken, Ilrin," Ingloir said coldly, "a vow to the stars in the heavens that thou shalt neither lead any of our folk from Cuifhiainan into the West, nor shalt thou depart alone from this place in search of the kin of Fionnui."
Bitterly did Ilrin rue making such a vow, and bitter were the fruits of his decision; but for the love of his father, Ilrin bowed to his will. Yet ever after Ilrin may have loved his father, but his respect for Ingloir cooled. Ilrin was a wise leader of Elves, and he was a seer when the mood struck him on a sudden, and he knew much that was hidden. Through foreknowledge, Ilrin perceived that the realm of Cuifhiainan would not last, and though Morgadh may be captive, many of his vassals were not, and they would seek out this place and destroy it if they could. But nothing could Ilrin do for the seeming madness that had overtaken his father, nor could he stave off the inevitable doom he foresaw. And so it was in the end that Ilrin broke his vow to save his people; but he led them to the east and not to the west.