Post by Saeren on Sept 28, 2006 11:46:53 GMT
( I'm going to play them, but for now I will post this )
Valian Years of the Trees - before the First Age
.... He was being followed. Once or twice, he half looked back, to see a shadow dodge out of sight behind one of the trees. But he acted as if nothing was wrong, his long stride neither slackening, nor quickening, as he reached a grove of the beeches of Orome.
the radiant, almost noctilucent light fell in glorious golden , dappled patches, lighting the red in his dark hair. On the grass growing under the tall shapely trees, small flowers bloomed, casting a faint scent. His booted feet were soundless on the sward.
Trees rustled behind him, faintly, the one who followed him had left the ground, he thought, but was not quite skilled enough to make no noise as he passed through the trees.
A shape hurtled down upon him like a stooping hawk, with a triumphant cry as Maedhros caught him against his chest and rolled, coming up.
Silvery-grey eyes under a head of raven hair looked up at him, bubbling with laughter.
'' I got you, Maedhros! '' the boy exclaimed excitedly, collapsing into gurgles of laughter as Maedhros ticked him.
'' You got me, I admit to it, you are getting better , young cousin, '' Maedhros ruffled the jet hair.
'' Really? Am I? '' the young face glowed. '' I know I made noises in the trees, they're too tall for me, ''
'' You will grow in no time, young one, '' Maedhros laid a hand on his shoulder. '' So, you sneaked away from your teachers , did you? Again? ''
the shoulder hunched, '' You promised me you would take me riding, '' the big eyes pleaded, and a smile softened Maedhros face.
'' Very well, - after all an oath should be kept , should it not. Come along, and if your father finds me, he will tear a strip off me I have no doubt. ''
the two walked back toward the glittering, beautiful, soaring, city of Tirion, where the Noldor dwelled in harmony, in those days, before Morgoth was unchained, when the Light of Telperion and Laurelin mingled and song and harp music and laughter sounded and across the ocean, Middle Earth still dreamed under the stars.
Maedhros was almost as old as Fingons father, Fingolfin, but ever since Fingon learned to walk, he had taken to following his tall cousin around like a puppy, and Maedhros, who was unmarried, felt a deep love towards the boy, his uncles son. Who would ever dream, then, where it would lead?
.....
The noontide Bliss of Valinor was not to last. The Years of the Trees were far longer than the later, and briefer, Years of the Sun, they spanned millenia, as the Noldor grew in strength, power, wisdom and knowledge.
And then came the time when Melkor was released. He looked on the glory of Aman and the powers and hated and envied and at the Eldar who sat at the feet of the powers, but he dissimulated, and humbled himself, saying that if he could be the least of the people of Aman he would be content.
So he went among the Eldar. The Vanyar would never hearken to him, and the Teleri he deemed too weak to serve his purpose, but the Noldor, with their thirst for knowledge, their strength and fire, he knew he could use.
Whispers were sewn, so subtly, that at first none knew whence they originated, - the coming of men began to be spoken of, and the idea that the valar had gathered the Eldar to them in Aman, so that men might solely rule the wider lands of Middle Earth, began to be believed . The Noldor bethought themselves of weapons, and used their forges, which hitherto had solely been used to create things of beauty, turned out armour, and shields, bearing the emblems of houses, - and in secret, swords, spears, axes, bows. The peace of Tirion was slowly poisoned, touching every-one.
Fingon rapped at the door of his cousins study, and on receiving no answer, he walked around to the long colonnade which ran the length of Maedhros' rooms.
Maedhros' head was bent over something, which glittered and turned in his hand , and Fingon spoke his name softly.
Maedhros glanced up, his violet eyes widening, '' Ai, Fingon, '' he was holding a sword, beautifully crafted, it caught the light, looking nevertheless, deadly, it's edges wickedly sharp. With a look of self consciousness he laid it down on the table.
Fingons eyes lifted from the sword to the violet ones of Maedhros, he could not say anything, for he to, his brother Turgon, his father, Fingolfin, secretly made such weapons, and trained with them. It was just unheard of to see one , publicly - so far.
'' Maedhros, what is happening to us? '' he wondered, leaning against a pillar. ' it is as if a slow, cold wind is blowing in the upper airs, over us.
.....
White walls, beautiful and graceful, heartbreakingly exquisite and yet strong , soared around them, and all the light there seemed gathered onto the one who stood in the High Court, his hair like a lions mane of jet , and as he spoke, in a voice which reached into the heart and mind and echoed from the white and silver marble, Maedhros felt his heart begin to blaze.
His sword leaped from its sheath, and joined its tip to those of his brothers and his mighty father as they swore the oath that none should take and none could break, torchlight turned their faces and the swords to blood. They called on the name of Iluvatar Himself, calling the Everlasting Dark upon them if they kept it not and Manwe they named as witness, and Varda, and the hallowed mountain of Taniquetil, vowing to persue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the world Vala, demon, Elf or man yet unborn, or any creature great or small, good or evil, that time should bring forth until end of days, whoso should hold or take or keep a Silmaril from their possesion....
....
Fingon, in his great tent, hung with the blue Noldor Lamps, sat looking into the brazier which burned with sweet herbs throw upon it.
It was a seven-day only since news had come that Maedhros had been ambushed by the forces of Morgoth , and a mocking message had come that he would not release Maedhros unless the Noldor departed from Middle earth. But the Noldor knew that Morgoth would betray them and would not release Maedhros whatsoever they might do, and they were , in any case , constrained by their Oath.
And it was in this time that Fingolfin began his march into Middle Earth, and as they came into Mithrim, the sun rose flaming in the West, and Fingolfin unfurled his blue and silver banners. At the onset of this great and terrible light, the servants of Morgoth hid in terror, and thus Fingolfin and his sons marched unopposed to Dor Daedeloth and challenged Morgoth, and Thangorodrim shook with the trumpets of his host. But there came no answer , and Fingolfin, being of other temper than feanor , withdrew and turned back to Mithrim and made camp on the northern shore. The sons of Feanor withdrew to the southern shore, for many repented of the burning of the ships at Losgar, and would have greeted their kin, but were ashamed.
And Morgoth, seeing how his foes were divided, laughed, in Angband, and sent forth smokes from Thangorodrim, which coiled down, drear and poisonous on the mere of Mithrim.
Fingon remembered Tirion, and Maedhros, who was almost as old as his own father, how he had taught him to wield a sword, and how their friendship had blossomed from then, for Maedhros had no sons, - they were cousins, but closer than brothers and the thought of his torment was a flame in his heart.
He rose abruptly, putting aside his cup, and wearing the beautiful, supple mail of valinor, and a cloak, taking his pack, he went out silently into the night, enjoining the guards to silence.
Because of the dark fumes which Morgoth had sent out, there were no stars and therefore Fingon went un-noticed, as he climbed higher , onto the very ash and slag shoulders of Thangorodrim, and as the light came, under a pall of cloud and vapour, he looked at the desolation of the land, and despaired. It was a waste of grey and black and cold, hard, forbidding, grim, and empty. he thought of the jeweled white and silver of Tirion and the gold and green of the pastures and woods of Aman, and in defiance he took forth his lap harp and played an ancient lay, sung long before there was any strife between the Noldor.
The very rocks seemed to listen, for no sound like it had been heard here ever in its history, - a bitter wind stirred Fingons hair, as he stilled the strings, what little , louring light there was lit the fire in his silvery-grey eyes as he forced himself to look upon this place of torment and death .
*Maedhros, my friend, where are you in this place of Hell? *
Maedhros had been tortured before this torment, the iron band cutting into his flesh, blood congealing, knowing his hand would be maimed if even he were ever freed. Yet still he struggled, alight with the fires of defiance, - and it seemed to him he were dreaming a delirious dream when he heard the sound of a beautiful harping coming from below him. He lifted his head in the mane of heavy hair and began to sing, gritting his teeth against pain[/b]
Tbc
Valian Years of the Trees - before the First Age
.... He was being followed. Once or twice, he half looked back, to see a shadow dodge out of sight behind one of the trees. But he acted as if nothing was wrong, his long stride neither slackening, nor quickening, as he reached a grove of the beeches of Orome.
the radiant, almost noctilucent light fell in glorious golden , dappled patches, lighting the red in his dark hair. On the grass growing under the tall shapely trees, small flowers bloomed, casting a faint scent. His booted feet were soundless on the sward.
Trees rustled behind him, faintly, the one who followed him had left the ground, he thought, but was not quite skilled enough to make no noise as he passed through the trees.
A shape hurtled down upon him like a stooping hawk, with a triumphant cry as Maedhros caught him against his chest and rolled, coming up.
Silvery-grey eyes under a head of raven hair looked up at him, bubbling with laughter.
'' I got you, Maedhros! '' the boy exclaimed excitedly, collapsing into gurgles of laughter as Maedhros ticked him.
'' You got me, I admit to it, you are getting better , young cousin, '' Maedhros ruffled the jet hair.
'' Really? Am I? '' the young face glowed. '' I know I made noises in the trees, they're too tall for me, ''
'' You will grow in no time, young one, '' Maedhros laid a hand on his shoulder. '' So, you sneaked away from your teachers , did you? Again? ''
the shoulder hunched, '' You promised me you would take me riding, '' the big eyes pleaded, and a smile softened Maedhros face.
'' Very well, - after all an oath should be kept , should it not. Come along, and if your father finds me, he will tear a strip off me I have no doubt. ''
the two walked back toward the glittering, beautiful, soaring, city of Tirion, where the Noldor dwelled in harmony, in those days, before Morgoth was unchained, when the Light of Telperion and Laurelin mingled and song and harp music and laughter sounded and across the ocean, Middle Earth still dreamed under the stars.
Maedhros was almost as old as Fingons father, Fingolfin, but ever since Fingon learned to walk, he had taken to following his tall cousin around like a puppy, and Maedhros, who was unmarried, felt a deep love towards the boy, his uncles son. Who would ever dream, then, where it would lead?
.....
The noontide Bliss of Valinor was not to last. The Years of the Trees were far longer than the later, and briefer, Years of the Sun, they spanned millenia, as the Noldor grew in strength, power, wisdom and knowledge.
And then came the time when Melkor was released. He looked on the glory of Aman and the powers and hated and envied and at the Eldar who sat at the feet of the powers, but he dissimulated, and humbled himself, saying that if he could be the least of the people of Aman he would be content.
So he went among the Eldar. The Vanyar would never hearken to him, and the Teleri he deemed too weak to serve his purpose, but the Noldor, with their thirst for knowledge, their strength and fire, he knew he could use.
Whispers were sewn, so subtly, that at first none knew whence they originated, - the coming of men began to be spoken of, and the idea that the valar had gathered the Eldar to them in Aman, so that men might solely rule the wider lands of Middle Earth, began to be believed . The Noldor bethought themselves of weapons, and used their forges, which hitherto had solely been used to create things of beauty, turned out armour, and shields, bearing the emblems of houses, - and in secret, swords, spears, axes, bows. The peace of Tirion was slowly poisoned, touching every-one.
Fingon rapped at the door of his cousins study, and on receiving no answer, he walked around to the long colonnade which ran the length of Maedhros' rooms.
Maedhros' head was bent over something, which glittered and turned in his hand , and Fingon spoke his name softly.
Maedhros glanced up, his violet eyes widening, '' Ai, Fingon, '' he was holding a sword, beautifully crafted, it caught the light, looking nevertheless, deadly, it's edges wickedly sharp. With a look of self consciousness he laid it down on the table.
Fingons eyes lifted from the sword to the violet ones of Maedhros, he could not say anything, for he to, his brother Turgon, his father, Fingolfin, secretly made such weapons, and trained with them. It was just unheard of to see one , publicly - so far.
'' Maedhros, what is happening to us? '' he wondered, leaning against a pillar. ' it is as if a slow, cold wind is blowing in the upper airs, over us.
.....
White walls, beautiful and graceful, heartbreakingly exquisite and yet strong , soared around them, and all the light there seemed gathered onto the one who stood in the High Court, his hair like a lions mane of jet , and as he spoke, in a voice which reached into the heart and mind and echoed from the white and silver marble, Maedhros felt his heart begin to blaze.
His sword leaped from its sheath, and joined its tip to those of his brothers and his mighty father as they swore the oath that none should take and none could break, torchlight turned their faces and the swords to blood. They called on the name of Iluvatar Himself, calling the Everlasting Dark upon them if they kept it not and Manwe they named as witness, and Varda, and the hallowed mountain of Taniquetil, vowing to persue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the world Vala, demon, Elf or man yet unborn, or any creature great or small, good or evil, that time should bring forth until end of days, whoso should hold or take or keep a Silmaril from their possesion....
....
Fingon, in his great tent, hung with the blue Noldor Lamps, sat looking into the brazier which burned with sweet herbs throw upon it.
It was a seven-day only since news had come that Maedhros had been ambushed by the forces of Morgoth , and a mocking message had come that he would not release Maedhros unless the Noldor departed from Middle earth. But the Noldor knew that Morgoth would betray them and would not release Maedhros whatsoever they might do, and they were , in any case , constrained by their Oath.
And it was in this time that Fingolfin began his march into Middle Earth, and as they came into Mithrim, the sun rose flaming in the West, and Fingolfin unfurled his blue and silver banners. At the onset of this great and terrible light, the servants of Morgoth hid in terror, and thus Fingolfin and his sons marched unopposed to Dor Daedeloth and challenged Morgoth, and Thangorodrim shook with the trumpets of his host. But there came no answer , and Fingolfin, being of other temper than feanor , withdrew and turned back to Mithrim and made camp on the northern shore. The sons of Feanor withdrew to the southern shore, for many repented of the burning of the ships at Losgar, and would have greeted their kin, but were ashamed.
And Morgoth, seeing how his foes were divided, laughed, in Angband, and sent forth smokes from Thangorodrim, which coiled down, drear and poisonous on the mere of Mithrim.
Fingon remembered Tirion, and Maedhros, who was almost as old as his own father, how he had taught him to wield a sword, and how their friendship had blossomed from then, for Maedhros had no sons, - they were cousins, but closer than brothers and the thought of his torment was a flame in his heart.
He rose abruptly, putting aside his cup, and wearing the beautiful, supple mail of valinor, and a cloak, taking his pack, he went out silently into the night, enjoining the guards to silence.
Because of the dark fumes which Morgoth had sent out, there were no stars and therefore Fingon went un-noticed, as he climbed higher , onto the very ash and slag shoulders of Thangorodrim, and as the light came, under a pall of cloud and vapour, he looked at the desolation of the land, and despaired. It was a waste of grey and black and cold, hard, forbidding, grim, and empty. he thought of the jeweled white and silver of Tirion and the gold and green of the pastures and woods of Aman, and in defiance he took forth his lap harp and played an ancient lay, sung long before there was any strife between the Noldor.
The very rocks seemed to listen, for no sound like it had been heard here ever in its history, - a bitter wind stirred Fingons hair, as he stilled the strings, what little , louring light there was lit the fire in his silvery-grey eyes as he forced himself to look upon this place of torment and death .
*Maedhros, my friend, where are you in this place of Hell? *
Maedhros had been tortured before this torment, the iron band cutting into his flesh, blood congealing, knowing his hand would be maimed if even he were ever freed. Yet still he struggled, alight with the fires of defiance, - and it seemed to him he were dreaming a delirious dream when he heard the sound of a beautiful harping coming from below him. He lifted his head in the mane of heavy hair and began to sing, gritting his teeth against pain[/b]
Tbc
