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The Pool
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By dusk the party came within sight of the trickling spring that fed the falls of Irvin. They hurried on toward it as they continued their descent through the woods of the foothills, which grew dim in the deep mountain shadows now stretching far over them from the west. But their destination was still a good way off, and the travelers kept going for a few more hours until finally the sounds of rushing water came drifting into Mírian's ears. At last in the middle of the night they reached the pool. The bright crescent moon was high overhead, and lit the broad stones of its shores, and made its dark surface sparkle like the stars in the sky above.
Finally they stopped to rest. Mírian had grown more accustomed to the long marches elves are wont to take on journeys, but now she was very weary and quite relieved. The elves still stayed up a good while and took their ease as they often did, for all could feel the protection of Ulmo that still lingered in that place. Mírian indeed felt it too, but the soothful sighing of the cascading falls and soft splashing of the waters lulled her quickly to sleep.
It was well into the morning when Mírian eased into waking. Feeling quite content she lay on her back staring up for a while, watching the long pine needles and the browning yellow leaves dance in the faint breeze above her with the new light filtering through them. Finally Mírian got up and wandered over to the pool where she found the others already up, drinking and washing and preparing their things. The falls themselves were a wondrous sight, glittering like a curtain of rippled glass in the bright morning sun. Mírian slipped off her shoes and stepped in, and found the water as pleasantly cool as it was perfectly clear. Wading into the shallows she wandered happily toward the falls, and her elf companions wondered at the unusual calm they noticed in her air and on her face.
Back on the shore Gilduriel came up to her, and pulled up the cord hanging from her neck so that the brooch hung openly, and the reflection of the sun against the bright little gems lit soft and fair against the young lady's face.
"There then," Gilduriel said gaily, "now do you seem a maiden of the Eldalië! Does she not, daughter?"
Lothaelin smiled. "Indeed, mother," she said, and turned to her ward. "You seem in a curious mood, foster daughter. Less worried and uncertain, more assured as an aged sage."
In that hallowed place Mírian looked over at her foster family, clear eyed and sure hearted. Then she turned and gazed out at the water, and softly she chanted a sorrowful rhyme:
Long has the Shadow been kept at bay
By kings and guards fair and tall
But if pride in thy works steers thy way
Kingdoms and kin are doomed to fall
By voice of the sea do I call
To its shores you flee this doom
Ere Shadow flows o'er one and all
And thy shining keeps be thy tomb
Then she continued. "I have seen and heard many things in my dreams this past night, lady," she said. "I saw a large knightly king standing in the surf at the sea with storm clouds swirling overhead. I saw glimpses of fair elven cities in different places. And I heard the deep flowing music of creation that moves through the time and space of the world. But, amidst it I heard also the curious rhyme I have recited for you, and now know my task: I am to deliver a message to the lords of these places. Secure they might seem, hidden well with the strength of many warriors to guard them, but they are in danger, and their dooms are not far off. Not by the measure of the elves, at least. Though they may be beholden to the fair works of metal and stone which they have wrought for their dwellings, they must release their hearts from these things if they are to save their peoples."
The elves looked at her amazed in silence a moment. Cúdolin smiled. "The Lord of Waters hallows this place still, and here he has given you his message. He is said to be among the wisest and most foresighted of the Valar, and these gifts he now shares with you. Come! By nightfall we must fare ourselves onward, that you might safely deliver it."
"But where shall we go from here?" Mírian asked. "Do you know where these elf kingdoms lie?"
"Of one we are sure," said Lothaelin. "For some among us have kin there, deep in the forests that we saw from the heights of the pass. Another we believe can be found simply by following the Narog here. That is also the fastest way south to Cirdan's realm. Surely this message is meant for the kings of the Noldor, and specifically the kin of Fingolfin - the people of the Second House of Finwë, considering the token you were given with which to deliver it. One realm of theirs, at least, we may find that way."
"But," said Cúdolin, "the way south crosses many leagues of wide open plains, and the whereabouts of that kingdom or how far their guard extends is uncertain. It is a shorter distance to reach the cover of the forest. If we visit Menegroth first maybe they would help us from there to the Noldoli king not far from them. Then young Mírian could deliver her message to two kingdoms. For the rhyme of her dream did not specify the Elves out of the West over the Unwilling."
There continued to be some debate about this. In the end those wishing to head to Menegroth prevailed. But for now they continued to rest in that hallowed place, for the wider world was still dangerous, and it was prudent to return to moving under cover of night. And so when at last the sun sank again behind the mountains rising up over the falls they resumed their march heading east.
