This font delineates the elvish Lāhorin language.
This font delineates the elvish Perilya language.
After a short feast, all eight each retired to their places for the night. They still only had their three rooms, but this would not be permanent. Despite having to share spaces for the time being, all five slept soundly and long. The sun came creeping back into the room at the next morning's rise, and Alatar took it upon himself to drape his robes over the crack under the door, and allow himself to continue sleeping. It had never come so easily to them.
When they finally awoke and made their way out the door, the same guard was walking along the halls. Garruil had said there were two on every floor, but there appeared to be only one here as it was the same elf every time. Alatar grabbed his attention and asked to find the two elders.
"They are preparing to address the city, " he said, just as pleasantly as yestermorn. " They called everyone this morning to the Tilionic Theater for an announcement, likely the agreement that was reached last night."
"The amphitheater? We shall join them, then, if that is fitting, " Pallando added. The elf nodded, and began to escort them away. " Wait, our men should come along as well," he said before they'd gotten too far.
"The young men are upstairs with the elders already," the elf said coolly. Pallando shrugged, and they continued upwards.
They ascended back onto the rooftop to find the same party present. All were quiet, as the translators had only just arrived. The elders informed everyone that the announcement was to be made at high noon, closing within the next half-hour. They sat and rested for a bit before meandering back downstairs and out along the stone path they had taken from the theater before.
Walking along this path, away from the cliffs and the waterfall, gave them another beautiful view. It was not new, as the windows outside their hallway faced this direction and they could overlook it from the rooftop, but it came with a new perspective close to the ground. The buildings looked bigger now, and the wizards thought more about the elves who lived here.
They could not release the idea of their sad history from their minds, and saw that each who dwelled within these woods was scarred beyond imagining. The elders didn't know until the day before, and Alatar wondered if they would reveal the full truth to their people.
Continuing to think of the people, they assumed that every elf thought they knew what this was about. They probably thought they called everyone to witness the execution they were promised two days ago. That wouldn't be too far of a leap for them all to think. What was a huge leap for anyone was the idea that the intruders on trial for their life two days prior would be welcomed as the new saviors of the entirety of this civilization. They pondered no one thought that's what would be happening.
Onto the dais they walked, where two large thrones sat in the middle with three smaller seats on either side of them. The smaller seats were still marvelous: beautiful carved wood with the same finishing at the table and chairs on the balcony. These were much bigger, though, and had been lined with some kind of padding on the seat and back of each, sewn into it within gold and purple leather.
The two in the middle were glorious marble thrones, of which the first thought could only be 'how many people did it take to move that?' It was fitted with the same leather padding and adorned with gems of all colors. Garruil and Melihéra took their place in front of these, naturally, while the rest took seats on the sides. The three men stayed together while the istari and Elduin sat opposite.
When they walked onto the stage, all the elves in attendance, hundreds of them, had been standing in respect for the two elders. They each raised their hands, as before, to have them all seated. Garruil remained standing and took a step forward.
"My friends, " he said in a kingly manner, " these at my sides have brought forth something I did not expect. As many of you had witnessed during their trial not three suns ago, these old men here speak our language. They came with a tale that is very long and very old. What we came to find was just how much their history had intertwined with our own."
Murmuring began to take over the silent volume of the crowd. They were now confused about the reason for this announcement, and were asking each other questions. Garruil noticed and gave a moment to the people before continuing and bringing everyone's attention back to himself.
"The great Tilion, of whom this theater is so named, the once great defender of these lands, is the brethren of those who come from the outside and use our tongue. " The crowd grew in volume once more, consistent enough for the wizards to discern most people simply saying ' brethren? ' and ' what does this mean?' Garruil continued again, a bit louder to maintain their focus.
"Our histories link so far in the past that they have been able to offer us some closure of our own peoples. Their tale is one I wish to tell you all, an obligation I feel to give you, as it is your history as much as mine."
Garruil went on with this story in exquisite detail. He recounted the stories given by the wizards and the men of their arrival, flattering them with his knowledge after only a day and one repetition of their story, and began forth with the true and completed history they had discovered between one another: the relations between Oromë and those of him, and the supposed voyage that Tilion had decided to undertake.
He also spoke to them all candidly about the nature of their people outside the Wild Wood. He told them that they had been forgotten on two fronts, with Tilion and with the rest of the world. As a leader, it felt right for him to expose this among his people. He bore no secrets from them, though it brought to them sadness and possibly shame and embarrassment. He concluded with a rousing sentiment that went as follows, "But we have been found once more! Not now by Oromë, but by his children. The men in azure raiments offer to us what we have needed since being lost. We have agreed to bring in a new age of Cuiviénen, one of peace and prosperity again!"
While they still did not get a formal declaration of unity, the crowd began to cheer. They'd been frightened and stagnant for too long, and had clearly not been addressed this way in recent memory. Garruil continued.
"The Blue Wizards and their men, along with Melihéra, Elduin, and myself, have pacted ourselves to each other's service. The Heren Istarion offer protection left unfulfilled by Tilion in exchange for our aid in their great quest! Khamûl, the Black Easterling, King of Palisor, has been granted the title of general among our numbers, and takes upon himself the challenge of making our power greater than before! We will fight to keep our own peace, and our lands will flourish in its newfound richness!"
Garruil was making a big promise to his people, something the wizards silently wished he'd stayed away from. It was passionate and encouraging to his people, but this put lots of pressure on the wizards and men to bring about this new age. It sounded as if they were now solely responsible for it, and a fear crept up on them with the thought of failing to meet all of these expectations being set forth.
"Today we celebrate the coming of our new saviors, our close friends, and our revival into prosperity once again!" Garruil finally concluded. It was met with cheers of adoration and hope, although some in the crowd had remained seated and unenthused. They must take exception to this, and the five knew that they'd have to prove themselves to those who still valued their secrecy and isolation from men.
For now, though, today was a victory. A new era of Cuiviénen had indeed been brought before them all. Celebrations began in the theater later that night, congratulating the eight for this newfound alliance. The people filled the areas outside the theater and the small stone streets all around. Drinks were had by all while the children ran around. Peace had definitely been brought here for today but much work was needed, so very soon all began to turn for the better.
As the next few weeks had gone by, the smaller details were discussed between the elders and the istari along with their men. These meetings would be long and arduous, but for the sake of simplicity, the following will recount the overall plan laid out by the council of Alatar, Pallando, Garruil, Melihéra, and Khamûl, the leaders of each race. This council had gone unnamed until some time, when a new language (to be future described), named it "Liyúmë Lingalu," a direct translation of "The Hosts of Many Good Fortunes." Their goal was to bring life back to these lands, so this new age was henceforth known as "The Lāhorin Revival."
This council would confer about all things within the Wild Wood. Mainly, the elders concerned themselves with the lives of people lying within the borders of the city, Khamûl with the armies, and the wizards with the prosperity, progression, and protection of the region, what they derisively called "the three P's." Each cabinet, as they could be considered, affected the other, and the changes among any would alter the rest. As time rolled forward and the world found itself new, the council made the right decisions with the hearts of the people in mind.
Melihéra was of the most concern to the wizards to start. She had been excited about the new venture between them all, but still was not entirely convinced that the wizards were all they said they were. She made peace with them soon after the council was formed, under the strict goal of bringing peace and prosperity to these lands, and it would change her behavior towards them.
It would take time, but Melihéra eventually came around to trusting the istari in full. They had proven, quite swiftly, that they only had their best interests in their hearts, and that they had never lied to the elves. A bond was swiftly brought between the high elf and the new races she once thought were invading her homelands. She came to care for all of them, and her light shone even greater than before. When she addressed those skeptics with this new love, they came to trust in her judgment, and they too promptly had their concerns washed away.
The wizards would also come to find out that Melihéra was the only one with these powers among the forest, changing their perspective of what she was capable of. Garruil, while an elder, was simply just that. He was the oldest living elf within the forest, having first-borns for parents who had perished during the disaster. He knew how important Melihéra's power and lineage was, and was so enamored with her light that he fell for her, and so they wed. He did not acquire any of her power through marriage, but their love was shared so deeply that it appeared to rub onto him, with his own kind of light shining forth thereafter.
The two had only one son, Tarruil, and he was a strong young man. Young was a relative term, of course, when it came to the immortality of elves. He had been born not two hundred years before the coming of the istari, in 1438 of the Second Age of Men. He was ambitious but stagnant due to the nature of the Lāhor during his childhood, so when he was given the opportunity to join the forces, he took it hastily. As one-eighth Maia, he was fairly powerful, and quickly rose to the top of his class.
Elduin was not counted among the Liyúmë Lingalu, along with Jenrás and Aërfiç. Elduin was not a leader of his race, but quickly ascended to be one of the commanders of the Lāhorin army. Elduin had already been a leader of his company, and would earn himself great knowledge of war from Khamûl to lead the armies themselves. Jenrás and Aërfiç would also acquire high-ranking positions among the militias of men. As some of the best fighters in all of Palisor, their regiments for training were exhaustive and comprehensive, making fierce and loyal warriors out of both races. They were honored upon their passings, both in the last quarter of the century.
During the first initial months, before the armies were established, Khamûl had returned home with Elduin to convince the lords of Minas Alu of their kinship. Within a year after departing, men had taken the trip from Minas Alu and all around Palisor to train with the Lāhorin elves in proper warfare. Horses were brought in many numbers along with steel and bows (the elves were so primitive that their weaponry was still primarily wood and stone, save for armor).
Khamûl had made a trek back to Minas Alu after the deaths of his advisors, and returned with something great. It was at the turn of the century of his second return that he spoke to the Liyúmë Lingalu of a great elven lord he had spoken with. He who was called Annatar in the west was offering great power in their quest. He was a traveler who'd seen the darkness firsthand and wished it vanquished. The Liyúmë Lingalu thought this good tidings, as Annatar and Khamûl could build forces together in the western regions of Palisor.
Khamûl had only a few days and nights with Annatar, but was able to truthfully confirm their friendship. He had brought great gifts to offer peace, including a ring which Khamûl had worn on a chain around his neck ever after his return. However, Annatar's aid could not yet be called upon, and a journey to Cuiviénen was impossible. Khamûl assured that one day his help would be met, whatever that may entail.
There was much strife between the two races at Khamûl's first return, but another year was all it took for most unfortunate disagreements to become water under the bridge and the races felt much more united. Here many elves and men began to get along, with each sharing their languages and lives with one another.
The next several years after Khamûl's first return saw the destruction of many trees around Cuiviénen, but it went with the blessings from the elders. You see, the numbers had grown so large in Cuiviénen, both men and elves, that more space was needed to house them all and have open land for training. Nearly ten square kilometers of forest was obliterated and cut down, a magnificent field of artificial origins, though it hurt the elders to see so much life taken from the forest. It was called the Field of Laornē, which means "no trees" in Lāhorin.
The armies of both men and elves dwelled here, as the wood from these forests was almost perfectly self-sustaining for their needs. Some buildings were scattered around, housing mostly, but there were still small and scattered companies who preferred tents in the middle of the now open field. Sometimes they would even swap, as training to camp was also at times a necessity.
By the end of the next century, the reproductive rate of men and elves was staggering. The armies had numbers greater than five thousand combined throughout the woods and Palisor, and the leaders of them, under Khamûl, had begun turning away some of the weaker or ill-abled from their service. These young men were sent back within the city's borders to learn how to become the farmers that they needed to feed the armies.
While farming was not a new concept to the elves, as evidenced by their plentiful dairy products and meats, they did need to scale their farms up by many factors. Many of the farmers were women; wives of soldiers remaining in the city to slowly collect all of their produced foods. With the return of more men into the city, numbers again spiked high and the demand for more was increased. People between the city and outside it were working in perfect harmony, with one providing the other with the ability to protect those within.
As the population continued to grow, so too did the divisions within the army. This included companies whose direct orders were to explore the lands outside the Wild Wood. The mountains kept them from exploring northward and eastward, so they set sights on continuing west past Palisor's borders. The companies had at times been gone for years at a time, the longest of which was over two and a half decades.
Departing in the year 1747 of the Second Age of Men and not returning until 1775 had long begun, this company of over fifty elves had returned with something miraculous. They'd ventured so far west as to have reached Greenwood the Great! Here they conversed with other dark elves, mainly the Sindar elves of the trees. They had stayed under the guise of another tribe of Avari (strict orders of Khamûl to remain as anonymous as possible), using their primitive language to prove that they'd been uncivilized until now.
The Sindar were kind enough to take them in as their own, adopting them as Sindar. They were taught their ways of the woods different from their own, the making of lembas, the elven bread, and their language of Sindarin. To further make themselves blend in among the Sindar, they stayed and behaved just as they do, bringing back a whole host of information with them, including the language which was immediately adopted by the Lāhor as the superior language. It was not difficult to learn, after all, since it hailed from Lāhorin itself, like most other elvish tongues.
The wizards had wished they knew during this time that it would be the preferred mode, as they could have taught each other how to speak it. What a queer surprise it would've been had those elves returned with Sindarin to find it had already found its way here! Nevertheless, Sindarin became the common tongue among the elves for a brief time.
At this the wizards set out on providing the elves with the other main language of elves: Quenya, or more specifically, a Teleri dialect of Quenya. Should they ever meet the high elves of the west, this is the language they would need. Over time, the wizards taught them all Quenya, and very slowly something unexpected began to happen from the least likely of places: the children of the lands would confuse their languages of Sindarin and Quenya while learning and mesh them all together in a youthful jargon.
Upon that was a new style of language that began to develop soon after. Perilya, a language meaning "half of each" in, you guessed it, both Sindarin and Quenya, began to take shape. Words, phrases, and roots were taken from each language and jumbled together to create a new language that would evermore be the unique language of the Lāhor. While the old language began to die out but was always remembered among the elders, they honored their history by continuing to call themselves the Lāhorin elves.
Alatar was being called "the darkness-slayer" during the fad of Quenya. The word in that language for this is "Morinehtar." Pallando had a title of his own: "the East-helper," translated therein to "Rómestámo." These names were adopted by the istari by the year 1800 of the Second Age and were known by these ever after, still somewhat early into their tenure as Defenders of the Wild Wood. This title, translated into Perilya around 1850 as "Varyai Hrávataur" (literally 'those who protect the wild forest'), would also further remain with them as a source of great pride and power. The name "Liyúmë Lingalu" was also born of this language at just about the same time.
With a peace between elves and men, the lands of Palisor and the Wild Wood had blended together into one, larger nation of great power. Men were not the only ones to emigrate to the forest; many elves had also left for the fields of Palisor. By the year 2000 of the Second Age, the borders of each were nearly indistinguishable apart from being different types of land. Men and elves dwelled peacefully among each, so here the Liyúmë Lingalu offered the region the new name of "Erthandor," translated, a bit more roughly, from Perilya as "the land of unity."
Apart from literal expansion and growth between the lands, there was progression among the cultures between the two races. Architecture and knowledge began to flourish as well. The first known structures to contain aspects of both human and elven influence were the buildings used for the armies dwelling in the Laornē. This was, more or less, the first new construction during the Revival, and certainly built by both races.
The main difference between the two cultures, at least architecturally speaking, was the practicality of their work. The men of Palisor appreciated a simple design that met all of their requirements and preferred no more. If a man wanted to adorn his work, it came from outside. Paintings, sculptures, furniture, and the like were brought to their place to make it appear nicer or more unified. Without these, the work maintains functionality at the cost of pleasantries.
The elves made their work with extreme care and attention to every detail. As the wizards saw after their trial, the structures themselves contained the art within itself. There were no paintings or pieces of beauty, with the exception of carvings and statues that were made into the buildings themselves. In short, the men did not waste their space while the elves cared about the appearances of their work.
When the two had come together to build their bunks in the Laornē, they found conflict between each other's styles. What would emerge was a new form of architecture known henceforth as elednēr, "elf-man" in the still-popular Lāhorin. It encompassed the practically of structures of men and the natural beauty of Lāhorin buildings. From here on out, homes in the city and large towers would be built of this style, making the land even more useful and beautiful.
The istari had their homes in Cuiviénen built of this fashion. These were much more castle-like than the place they had once called the Castles. While they were still a far cry of an actual castle, their new homes certainly felt like such. The stone that was used brought much more comfort than the old wood they had used while hiding in Palisor. It allowed for fires to be made inside the home for once, and its bright color was more pleasing to the eye.
Proper bedspreads had been made for them when compared to their little piles of hay and wool they used as a mattress. The elves had been farming wool and cotton at a slow rate for thousands of years, so it was not difficult or long before they had all new fabric and comfort. They were even offered drapes for their windows. They had not managed to perfect glass within their time, although they had made some accidentally, lighting fire to the sand on the shores of the inland sea. They had attempted to make windows in the Castles, but without glass they would end up ineffective. The elements came pouring in at times and the sun often woke them before they were ready to rise. Now with perfect panes and drapes to cover them, they considered this to be luxury.
The beauty of the houses also made them feel kingly. In classic elednēr style, which had been created and popularized while the house was under construction, the beauty came to match the practicality. The beginning of the construction was being done by Lāhorin elves, so it was being designed with artfulness in mind. When elednēr came to the city, they pushed to include this style in their homes.
What came was elednēr-style buildings that leaned just a little more Lāhorin than manly. They were more than happy to see this, however, as they had made the Castles perfectly practical and not at all elegant. They were stunned to see the visual beauty so perfectly paired with its functionality and comfort. To them, this was living.
Under these roofs were the wizards able to offer their protection. Along with Melihéra's power of rejuvenation, it almost felt like a bubble was encircling the lands. The bubble was filled with liquid spirit, so to speak, and all who dwelled within this bubble became happy and prosperous. The sun felt like it was shining brighter at times, warming the lands in an ever-flowing sense of healing.
In all their time as Varyai Hrávataur, the istari were only called upon to act twice. In 1775, a small band of Sindar elves had been seen traveling by foot across the fields of Palisor, tracing the unknown elves back to their homeland looking for information whence they left Greenwood the Great. One of Khamûl's rangers out that way had spotted them and, using his message system, was able to warn the Blue Wizards before they had arrived. They traveled to the edge of the forest and waited.
Under the same strict ruling from Khamûl to remain anonymous, they meant to annihilate all of the Sindar so no word of their true nature would fall back outside Erthandor, before it was known by that name of course. Over two hundred Sindar had come upon the treeline, and the wizards along with plenty of backup men. All foreign Sindar perished, with only four casualties including three men and one elf.
Once more in 1973 did Sindar elves return looking for their missing party of almost two hundred years. These elves had gone by unnoticed, only spotted after they had managed to penetrate the forest. A horse was ridden as quickly as its feet could carry it back to Laornē, and the massive number of warriors, now pushing ten thousand in the forest alone, were called to blockade the city with the wizards preparing for battle once more.
"Obliteration" is not a strong enough word to describe the massacre. While the messenger had reported seeing nearly one thousand Sindarin, his eyes had betrayed him in fear, and a mere three hundred arrived. The battle, if it could even be called that, lasted not ten minutes, as all of the elves were slain on the front lines. One casualty came as a result, and the wizards were not needed at all during the kinslaying.
Outside of these small services of war, the wizards mainly sat and hearkened to the beating of life pumping throughout the land. Their magic was slow, but powerful. Because of the nature of this magic, an unexpected result had began to show itself. Rather, the wizards were missing some very important information. Their belief was that magic, if performed acutely and in manners of safety, would offer no real consequence to the istari.
Instead, their use of this power unnecessarily ended up having the adverse effect they had once attempted to avoid. Their memories of Valinor were waning, and their powers reducing. Very slowly, but eventually all the same, the istari had actually forgotten their own names! Alatar and Pallando had remained as heroes of Cuiviénen, but they assumed their new titles of Morinehtar and Rómestámo. They responded not to their old names, as elves and men had no longer been calling them as such.
Even the elders, who remembered well a time when their names were Alatar and Pallando, had not called them by those names in hundreds of years. With the added effects of using too much power without reason, they had become Morinehtar and Rómestámo everafter.
These are the names of the istari throughout the rest of this tale.
Outside of Erthandor, Sauron had remained active. In 1693 of the Second Age, war was waged between the elves and Sauron in Eriador. Sauron had quickly gained the upper hand at the beginning of the war. In 1697, Sauron had ambushed Ost-in-Edhil, laying waste to the city and killing Celebrimbor, the forger of the elven Rings of Power. He had hid them when the war began, and Sauron's fury grew when he could not attain them then.
In that same year, however, he did acquire the rest of the Rings. He would venture out, remaining under the guise of an elf, and gift the rings to their new owners. Seven dwarf lords and nine kings of men all obtained their Rings of Power in this year or the next. Durin III was possibly the earliest to obtain a Ring of the dwarves and men, with Celebrimbor having given it to him before his slaying.
Returning his attention to the war, he remained in power over the elves. In 1699 he had besieged Imladris which was newly founded by Elrond, and had sacked the Grey Havens and Lindon. Communication between them all, including communication with the dwarves in Khazad-dûm, had halted.
The following year, when victory seemed in his palm, a massive army of Númenoreans had arrived on the shores of Lindon. Sauron ordered his forces to retreat, only to be flanked by another great army of Númenoreans on the opposite side. Sauron was pinned, and the legendary Battle of the Gwathló ensued. Sauron's entire force was destroyed, and he almost along with it. He narrowly escaped with his life as a small bodyguard defended him back to Mordor, the only two survivors of the entire conflict.
The battle, and therefore the war, was a great victory for the men and elves. It was decisive in hindering the mighty forces of Sauron for a time as he resided in Mordor. It did cost them much of Eriador, as it had been laid waste, including the great city of Ost-in-Edhil. Its remains were still visible in the late Third Age of Men, nearly five thousand years after its destruction during The One's final quest.
For the time, though, much of Middle-Earth began to prosper once more. By 1800, Númenor had started making permanent residences throughout the lands. The Númenoreans made partnership with many of the elves and men of Middle-Earth for several hundred years.
In 2221 of this age, Sauron had traveled to Númenor himself and corrupted the king Tar-Ancalimon. Under his rule, the ideology came that believed the Ban of the Valar was an insult to the Númenoreans. They had reached the height of their strength, and loyals began to push for the end of their friendship with elves. During this time, elven tongues were no longer taught and the great eagles were ignored, leading to their departure from Númenor.
These men loyal to Tar-Ancalimon became known as the King's Men, later called Black Númenoreans. Many years after this tale, the Black Númenoreans would be led by Ar-Pharazôn, the elderly king who was so frightened of dying that he fell directly into Sauron's hands. He had convinced Ar-Pharazôn to attack the Valar, breaking the Ban and involving Eru Ilúvatar himself. He intervened, sinking Númenor and the invaders of Valinor as punishment, changing the world forever.
The Faithful was a group of Númenoreans who remained loyal to the Valar, unlike the King's Men. They would become the founders of the kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor, as their most noted leader was Elendil himself. They would war against the Black Númenoreans for many ages until the downfall of Númenor and the end of the War of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men.
Six hundred and fifteen years had passed since the wizards had settled down in the city of Cuiviénen. The strength of Erthandor was mighty, and the istari had called a meeting between the Liyúmë Lingalu. On the morning of the first day of spring in 2236 of the Second Age of Men, the five of this council had arrived atop the same meeting place they always had.
The building by the waterfall remained intact at this time, more so than ever thanks to its renovations over time. It remained nearly unchanged despite the fact. The most noticeable difference was the appearance of the two new statues on the rooftop meeting grounds. The door leading upstairs had once been guarded by ten-foot tall statues of Enel and Enelyë, the founder of this tribe and the third awakened elf, and his beloved wife. Now it was guarded by similarly sized statues of the two wizards, robed with their staffs crossing over each other above the door frame.
They had been the first to arrive, and sat waiting the arrival of the other three. Garruil and Melihéra came in next, bright and shining as ever before. Their beauty never seemed to dim, and its fascination never fading. Greetings were made between them all. It was not too long after that that Khamûl had made his entrance.
This might sound surprising, but yes, Khamûl was still living at this time. He had grown very old, but now was standing here himself at almost six hundred and fifty years old! He moved as if he did not age at all, but his face was falling in many places and was pale, possibly even paler than the color his hair was now laying at. Strings of silver and grey fell tattered across his head, and was longer now down to his armpits. He had not aged very well, but none had except for the elders, who remained unchanged. Even the wizards had seemed to grow a bit older.
When good mornings had been doled out in every combination, they sat down at their table and began their conversation. The table had changed from rooted wood into a marvelous stone carving sanded to perfection. The chairs remained wooden, but were painted to precisely match the color of the marble table.
" There has been discussion from the two of us, " Morinehtar began, gesturing towards Rómestámo . " Our time here has been great, in both quality and quantity. However, we have recently been feeling the need to pursue our original quest. "
A hush fell over the table. The wizards had forgotten the splendor of Valinor, but not yet its inhabitants and the tasks handed down to them. They waited for a response, but all simply remained looking at him, so he continued.
" We came here with a purpose. We wanted to unite the lands and peoples to fight back against Sauron and his growing power. We have not explored even a quarter of Rhûn, and we need to know who else is out there for our cause! Unification among all of the lands in the east could bring everlasting peace! "
The council sat here, quiet. Heads turned towards Rómestámo to look for confirmation, but he was looking down with a heavy sadness. Everyone at the table knew that they had embarked upon this quest and would one day have to continue with their mission. It was difficult to see, quite clearly this time, that it was the beginning of the end. They had helped these lands more than anyone before them, and it would be quite a change for them to leave.
Garruil spoke up after the somberness had filled them all. " Is there anything we could do to change your mind? " he asked. " It's been centuries since you told us we might be overcome with another disaster. If you leave, it could happen the next day! "
" Quite right, " said Rómestámo. " It could happen at any time. And that is why we must leave soon. Times have grown long, and tense with anticipation. The time to act has come. "
" There is no proof that Sauron has returned, " Melihéra said next. " The land has done naught but grow in peace and harmony. Who's to say he never returns? "
" He will, " said Morinehtar, plainly. " His power, though dull compared to the force of this forest, still lingers. It emanates, closer than ever before. It's been growing for some time. I can feel it, and I know Rómestámo does too. " He looked at his partner, who nodded in agreement. He was sitting there with his hands on the table, all of his fingertips touching, and looking amongst the council for input.
There was no input after all, as this news had come as quite a shock to all of the Liyúmë Lingalu, completely unexpected. They were looking as if desperation had fallen upon them, which it might well have. The men and elves of this land had gotten comfortable over these many peaceful years, and had forgotten just how much they came to need the wizards and their help, which Morinehtar disagreed with.
" Look, " he continued, " these lands are quite capable without us. The land is fertile and protected by thousands of strong and competent warriors. We've helped Erthandor progress past our own usefulness. I have no doubt and full trust that there will continue to be prosperity and peace among this forest and the fields of Palisor. "
He was right after all. For the last decade or so the Blue Wizards had not much to do. They had done their work of inspiring and protecting well enough for the people to do it themselves. The residents were at peace, and should there ever be conflict, they were well equipped to handle it and fight for themselves. The istari were not needed as they once were, and had been ignorant to their task. It was time to move on from here, knowing it was in the good, loving hands of the elders.
Khamûl looked as if he was actually in agreement. After all, these were not his native lands, and while he'd come to love it as Erthandor rather than the old Wild Wood, he felt no obligation to stay either. He'd sworn to embark on this quest with the wizards, and he felt that the wizards were right. It was in fact time to embark once more.
The elders remained frozen, still taking in these arguments at face value. They did not want them to leave, as it brought back the feeling of Tilion leaving them, as he did almost three thousand years prior, to suffer alone. This was hard to accept, now with the knowledge of what might happen if they were abandoned once more.
" We can offer one thing before we go, " Rómestámo said. " It concerns only the lady Melihéra, however. " He looked at Garruil and Khamûl, silently urging them to give the three privacy. They looked at each other with a shrug, and began to stand up.
" I'll hear about this, you know, " Garruil said, disappointed, as he walked through the door downstairs. It hurt the istari to hear this from him, but it needed to be done.
Once they were alone, Melihéra looked at them, confused. " I don't understand, " she said calmly. " Why doesn't this concern them? "
"You are a descendant of our race, " Morinehtar said, surprising Melihéra by changing his language. They had not spoken Lāhorin in several centuries. " You have an inherent power akin to ours, and so too does Tarruil by being your blood. It might be time to teach you a bit of what we know, and you two could take our roles as the Varyai Hrávataur."
This was not something she expected to hear. She knew who she was, as the wizards had confided in her about who they were, but she did not think this would ever come to pass. The nature of her power eluded her, though it flowed through her, keeping the heartbeat of the lands from slowing. She did not do it intentionally, as it only came with a love for the forest and her people.
"What could you possibly teach me? " she asked. " For I may be of your kind, I am but one-fourth by blood. Tarruil an eighth only."
"We have never trained anyone but ourselves, " Rómestámo said. " This could take much time, but you might be able to tap into new power, and Tarruil others. We cannot know until we try. It is the least we can do to prepare you for our leaving, unlike your grandfather."
Melihéra did not like that last comment. "Please don't insult him, " she said, still calm and loving. " He had a mission, as do you. It probably pained him to leave so hastily."
"But don't you think it best to leave you something, at least?" Rómestámo asked, making his point obvious.
She looked at him and Morinehtar. He was right; it was the least they could do. Giving them a warning was not enough. The forest needed a rightful defender, and if they were to leave, then she and her son were the only ones who could possibly succeed them. She continued to look deep into their eyes and hearts, knowing that she was now tasked with learning how to be the next Varyai Hrávataur, along with her son. She nodded, and their work got underway soon after.
Over the next several weeks, the istari had spent time making a plan for the two successors. They recounted all that they had needed to learn while living at the Castles. They spent two decades learning how to feel comfortable enough to even engage other sentient beings. They certainly had more potential as true Maiar, and it might have benefited their pace of learning. They took many notes on what they were capable of, and what they needed to do to perfect these things. If they had a book of things for them, they could continue to use it well after they'd gone.
After six months of preparations, they began to start working with Melihéra and Tarruil directly. They had plenty of time by now to know and accept the fact that they would be succeeding the wizards as the Varyai Hrávataur, and were excited to begin their training. This feeling fell quickly, though, as the wizards only tasked them with reading the book they'd written recounting all of their experience, abilities, and angles to train them best.
Soon after, training had gotten underway. They did not have magical staffs to help bring about their power, the first roadblock they found. It was more difficult this way to produce any magic, and so each spell came at the cost of intense concentration, and physical exhaustion. They were both capable, however, of producing the magic at all, which was promising.
Over time, the duo of mother and son came to be more powerful than they had initially imagined. They were fast of understanding compared to the wizards, likely due to the fact that they did not need to spend time hunting, or building houses, or all of the things the wizards had to do just to survive day to day. They found that they could conjure magic through their own fingertips, and it was all quite different from their own. Because it came from their bodies directly, it had a different sense of purity and power to it.
Melihéra was an excellent healer, as her inherent power had been trending towards doing that her entire life. It made her glow, somehow, even more than she ever had. Her protective spells over small areas was also impressive, as the city of Cuiviénen had quickly come under her guard alone, with only small amounts of the wizards' influence.
Tarruil was still very young, agile, and ambitious. His skills tended to be more aggressive, having perfected lightning strikes and fireballs almost immediately. With this, he trained physically under Khamûl, becoming a fierce fighter and leader. Armed with this passion, Khamûl predicted he'd be a leading commander and fearful warrior among all of the numbers at their disposal. He was a fighter through and through.
Another three years had passed since the two elves began training under the Blue Wizards. By the end of 2239 of the Second Age, Melihéra had offered more love and protection to the forest than either of the istari single-handedly. The city was well within her light and no strife came here ever after the wizards had relented their magical hold of the land.
Tarruil had proven his worth as a combatant and leader through many mock invasions set up by the leaders of the armies. Khamûl's direct subordinates had prepared many soldiers into the thousands to imitate an army breaking through the forest, and would have each platoon fight each other. This tested the companies' abilities to advance and defend all at once. False swords and arrows were used as to ensure as best as possible that the numbers never dwindled by accident, which had unfortunately happened at times.
Tarruil had been given companies on the side of offense and defense both, and he had never led his party to failure. What the wizards found was another inherent power that Tarruil possessed: inspiration. He was able to boost the morale of his men into fighting with more heart and less fear, making them a terrifying bunch. With this magic and his harder skills to attack, he was the perfect leader to protect the lands on the front lines if they ever found themselves under attack.
With complete trust and belief that the two successors were capable of the responsibilities, the wizards made a secret pact between one another. On January First of 2240, they would release their magical hold on Erthandor entirely, releasing their grasp of every spell they'd ever conjured as the Varyai Hrávataur. They would not say anything to Melihéra or Tarruil to see if they could feel a difference in the world.
When they awoke on New Years Day of 2240, the wizards joined together in their private hall where they spent much time meditating on their spells. At once, they ended all spells they'd ever generated. At this instant, a weight had been lifted off of their shoulders, as they had no longer the need to exert any energy maintaining protective barriers, or giving life to the land, or bringing the people peace through progression.
When this happened, the istari immediately fainted, collapsing onto the ground beneath them. This experience was akin to a person forcing themselves so hardily, lifting something heavy for example, that when they released blood flowed right out of their head to their muscles, and they fell unconscious. Because this was done in a private location, the wizards lay here for several minutes as they recovered, asleep on the cold marble floor.
Rómestámo came to first. He arose, dizzy, and counted on his staff to get him to his feet. He got himself balanced and rubbed his eyes for a moment, feeling his head and checking his fingers for blood. When he found none, he looked around in a daze until he saw Morinehtar still on the floor next to where he was standing. He poked him with his staff lightly on the abdomen and called for him to awaken.
Morinehtar mumbled something, still unconscious, but proving he was alive. Rómestámo also did not see any blood puddles on the floor, indicating they would both probably be okay. He poked him once more, and this caused Morinehtar's eyes to open slowly. He rolled over in pain, looking up at his friend. He was blurry, but identifiable. As he came to as well, he began to comprehend what happened. He stood slowly, as Rómestámo had, and also instinctively felt the back of his head for blood.
" That was unexpected, " Rómestámo said first.
" Indeed, " Morinehtar confirmed. " But our task in this land has completed with this action. The land feels no different, and if we haven't been checked on by now they might not suspect anything is amiss. "
" Shall we go see if our successors feel they are ready? "
" Why don't we stay here a while, " Morinehtar refuted. " We could use some time to recover, while no one will bother us for a few hours. "
" Aye, good thought for a head that's just regained the ability to think. " The two chuckled, and sat down peacefully to feel the land anew. Nothing felt any different, besides the fact that they were no longer carrying any active spells with them. They were certain that the two were ready to become the next Varyai Hrávataur.
When lunchtime rolled around, they left their hall to find Melihéra and Tarruil. They were found on the dais of the Tilionic Theater, the common location of their training. They sat in meditation, practicing something. Rómestámo picked up a small pebble and tossed it toward the two. It froze in mid-air about two feet from Tarruil's head, hung for a second, and fell right down. The istari knew this was just about the limit of their telekinetic prowess. Their eyes then opened slowly, having sensed the presence of the istari and stopping the stone.
" Are we needed? " Tarruil asked.
" Only for one thing, " Morinehtar said. " We have learned ourselves a new lesson this morning that we wish to impart on you. It is quite important. "
The two looked confused. " This morning? What happened? " Melihéra pondered aloud.
" It will be the last lesson I hope you need to remember, " Morinehtar continued. " When you release all of your magic at once, you will likely faint, so make sure to be laying down comfortably, or at least standing on a cozy surface to fall onto. " He said this while rubbing the back of his head, which felt bruised.
Tarruil looked puzzled, but Melihéra's mouth dropped agape. " And why do you know this? "
The wizards could do nothing but laugh and offer great smiles to the two. The new Varyai Hrávataur sat frozen, not fully understanding the weight of what had just happened. They clearly needed the explanation, and the anticipation was killing them, so Rómestámo offered the truth to them.
" Did you feel any disturbances this morning? " he asked. " Did the land feel any darker or less protected? Because we cut ties with all of our spells and have unburdened ourselves with the responsibilities of the Varyai Hrávataur. "
Tarruil remained frozen in place, as the truth set into himself. Melihéra could not contain her emotions, as she fully understood now what this meant. She leaped up and down with a great smile and many giggles to herself. She hugged the wizards tightly, knowing that they had passed the test, and had just claimed the title of Varyai Hrávataur. She looked at her son, and grabbed him by the shoulders. " We did it! " she exclaimed. " We are capable! We can protect this forest for sure! "
He looked again at the wizards, who were smiling contentedly, silently offering their approval and praise. He looked back at his mother, and it struck him at once. He hugged her as the smile found his face as well, and they jumped together in place.