IC time is: Nighttime < About 10:00 PM >
IC day is: Oranor <Sun-day>
IC date is: 10 Iavas <Autumn>
Moon phase: Full <HIDDEN>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 23 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3047>
RL time: Sun Aug 09 14:00:18 2009
At the Waterfall
The river is moving more rapidly here. You can hear the thundering sound of crashing water, tumbling off the valley floor and into a gorge. You can make out the blackness of the drop, but cannot see anything below. The noise level is so high you must raise your voice to be heard. To the North, almost vertically overhead, are steep cliffs, black against the cloudy sky. The shapes of a few trees are scattered about, but the soil is getting rather rockey. There is a pleasant looking woods on the shore further upstream. You can only just barely make out the far side of the riverbank.
This night is dark but for the stars overhead as the full moon is hidden. A few torches line where the land ends at the waterfall as a precaution, but the Elves don't seem too concerned about it. The monument set in the cliff face is covered by a large cloth.
Mirodhel the Elf and a few others of his Mirdain colleagues linger nearby as they wait for everyone to assemble.
But Mirodhel is no longer alone. From the east comes a procession of elves. They carry lamps along and a serene song floats through the nightly air. Sidhel is leading them, for here come the member of House Narthanaer, the followers of Talroch. As the reach the monument, the form a circle around it and with a few moves, Sidhel unfurls the blue banner of their house.
Among the Mirdain is also Curoneth, dressed in a silvery white dress. There is an expectant glint in her bright grey eyes tonight, and she smiles to herself as her gaze sweeps over those already gathered and those still arriving.
Not far off, aside from the path of the arriving Narthnaer elves, stands Paithel calmly. Her gaze wanders, from the elves, to the veiled monument, up to the sky, to the fine spray of the waterfall glittering in the starlight. Not far from where she is standing a small movable table is set aside in the shadows.
Mirodhel watches as everyone arrives and then clears his throat to get everyone's attention. "Hark! Gather round, ye all and hear the tale of our spear-companion and mead-brother Thileithel who has gone on to the halls of the Uttermost West, but whom we honor here this night for his long service protecting our Valley home. Before we go forward, would anyone like to speak?"
Expectantly, Paithel moves forward after the elves of Narthanaer have passed and finds herself a position from where she can both hear and see what is going on. While being apparently very attentive, she shows no desire of speaking up and waits for another voice, or voices, to rise instead.
Sidhel raises his voice. "I shall speak," says he. "We have come to hear the tale of Thileithel Durhaelion from the fair woods of Brethil. Like I do now he used to bear the standard of House Narthanaer and serve as the herald of Lord Talroch. And even though the Hir abides in Mithlond, we shall now remember the life and deeds of Thileithel. A great warrior, a historian and mentor and a friend."
Mirodhel nods at these fine words regarding Thileithel. "I did not know him as well as others here. We served together often enough though and I learned with time that he was and is true to his word. His sword saved many an Elf from a swift passage to Mandos and in its shadow many took refuge."
Paithel too has her thoughts on the fallen warrior, but still seems to rather keep those to herself. Like many others gathered around the monument, she looks thoughtful, and possibly there is a hint of sadness in her eyes, yet she is smiling to herself. After several quiet moments, she eventually decides to speak up after all. "Not only his skills in battle shall be remembered, but his loyalty in friendship also. He always was a guide and mentor to all who would allow him to, and also to those who were not immediately aware of the value of such a friend."
"Well said, Paithel," says Sidhel. "Such was Thileithel. Hear now a brief tale of his live before we commence to setting his name into stone." And so he tells of Durhaelion's son who walked under the stars of Beleriand. How he met the heir of Nos Meril and became Talroch's herald. Thileithel survived the treason of the dwarves while Elu Thingol was slain but then came a day of sorrow as the sons of Feanor came over Menegroth, slaying and plundering. Talroch and Thileithel and few others fled south, taking the lady Elwing with them, but Elured and Elurin, the sons of Dior, were lost - and so was Nenduien, Thileithel's wife.
Mirodhel smiles in Paithel's direction at her words regarding her friendship with Thileithel as Sidhel relates past events of the Sinda's life.
Paithel nods in acknowledgment of Sidhel's words, then her thoughtful eyes wander off to gaze at the waterfall again while she attentively listens to Narthanaer's herald as he recounts the story of Thileithel's life.
Curoneth, who had been listening to everything said so far with a soft smile on her lips, now looks more contemplative - and like her many others are here who are eager to hear about Thileithel's life, his sorrows and great deeds.
As the Sack of Doriath is recalled, a few thoughtful gazes settle upon Paithel who chose to follow one of those who followed Maedhros at the time. But Sidhel continues to tell the deeds of Thileithel. In the safe refuge of Eithel Sirion, Talroch united the Rose and the Swan, woodland and sea-elves under the banner of a nightingale and Nos Narthanaer was forged out of the ruins of the Sindarin realms. And eventually Morgoth Bauglir was swept away when the War of Wrath came over Beleriand.
Thileithel settled in Lindon and began to journey far and wide through Middle-earth, from the Forlond to the far hills of Dorwinion and beyond. Since then he called a Randir among his kin. And then it became apparent that Annatar had deceived the Noldor of Eregion and the Lord of Gifts revealed himself as the Lord of Darkness, Sauron Gorthaur. Gil-galad sent the son of Earendil to relieve the city of the smiths but the Half-elven's host came too late and Elrond and his followers were driven north into Rhudaur, where they found refuge in the Hidden Valley.
As Sidhel continues to recount the tale of Thileithel and the Elf's travails across the Great Lands, Mirodhel turns to Curoneth and leans close to her to speak into her ear for a moment, "Mind ... ... from ... falls as ... ... .... That ... ... you ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...."
Curoneth reacts with nothing more than a raised brow to Mirodhel's comment, and continues to listen to Sidhel's words. Her eyes darken as the fall of Eregion is mentioned, and the smile she had worn earlier has now faded completely.
Paithel's expression darkens likewise as she notices several gazes upon herself, yet like Curoneth she chooses to continue listening to Sidhel's tale with unwavering attention.
Mirodhel folds his hands and bows his head.
And the tale continues. As Imladris grew stronger, it attracted more and more of the scattered elves that roamed Eriador. Those of Narthanaer sought counsel from Thileithel and after many years Elrond asked the elf from Doriath to be his Host Lord. As such Thileithel rode into many a skirmish and battle and his blade Angthilel was busy keeping the darkness at bay.
Sidhel pauses now. "It was in the 17th Loa of this Yen," he speaks again, "when Thileithel went to see off the northern Bruinen. A dreaded day that produced a twisted creature of Morgoth. Lucy, the self-styled troll queen came about and the Gweithir faced her in battle. It was a fierce fight, as we were told, but the darkness should win this day," Sidhel tells with a low voice. "Only when one of Manwe's birds flew to the scene would the olog leave the field. Had not Landroval of the Eagles taken Thileithel's body to safety, we would not have been able to lay him to rest." There he ends his speech and it seems the lights are shinning dimmer now.
The Noldor present, as if on cue, break into song:
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
o menel palan-driel,
le nallon s di'-nguruthos!
A tro nin, Fanuilos!"
The sound of a harp joins the singing voices, coming from where the Mirdain are gathered. There sits Curoneth, gently playing the instrument. The very simple yet powerful tune somehow reminds of the soaring wings of an eagle, rising up from the valley high into the sky and travelling far and wide, finally to arrive where all immortal souls go. With the song and music many thoughts are now wandering towards Thileithel's new home so far away.
Sidhel lowers the banner until the cloth touches the grass. His own thoughts are far away as well, beyond the Great Sea. As the music finally fades, he rises the banner again and says: "Until today we have but remembered Thileithel in song and speech. It was Mirodhel's wish though to add o thisa in the form of a gem upon our monument for the fallen. Let us now see what the jewelsmiths have crafted in memory of our beloved one."
Mirodhel walks up the covered slab of the monument and pulls a string, releasing the covering to reveal what is bekind: the many gems mirroring the starry sky overhead. One in particular is the gem for Thileithel, a green emerald cut to resemble a beech leaf and surrounded by a thin gold border. By some trick of the one who crafted it, it catches the light and sends it back out into the darkness.
Curoneth puts away the harp and stands up again, moving forward slightly to be able to take a better look at the finished work. She seems very happy indeed with the appearance of the gem, set in its designated space and shimmering softly. Now finally her smile returns.
Paithel too looks at the newest addition to the monument, and her expression, though less hard now than while listening to Thileithel's life story, remains thoughtful. With the gem, emerald and gold, reminding her a lot of another, smaller stone very much like it, she does not need to take a closer look just now.
For the first time this night a smile appears on Sidhel's features. "A beautiful work indeed," he states. "I daresay Thileithel would have appreciated it. May this beech leaf find peace among the birches of Imladris as Thileithel found peace in the halls of Mandos. Let us raise our glasses now in memory of the late Herald of Nos Narthanaer and Gweithir en Tirith Imladhrim. Culyave in memory of Thileithel and a fine white vintage whose name is yet unknown to me." The latter request for wine is directed to Paithel.
Mirodhel moves in the direction of Paithel and her table. As he nears, he calls out to her softly, "Elleth, your words I will remember."
Two apprentices are already moving the table closer to the gathered elves as the call for wine is made. Arranged on the table are several bottles of fine Culyave, and also several bottles of a white whine. Picking up one of the latter bottles Paithel says, "This vintage has been taken out of the cellars and bottled for the first time tonight, after it has been ripening in the barrels since the year Thileithel died. It is made from a vine cultivated from a wild vine growing in this valley, and does not yet bear a name. I trust it shall serve this occasion perfectly."
Having spoken, Paithel turns around to Mirodhel, looking at him inquiringly as if expecting him to say more.
Taking up some of the white wine, Mirodhel samples it slowly.
"And so trust I," replies Sidhel. "And would not the occasion be a good one to name this new clear vintage Eithel Brethil? A refreshing well among the birches should remind us of him who was once called the Glittering Well."
Mirodhel turns to Paithel to see what she will say about this suggestion as he continues to drink his wine, apparently approvingly.
"A very fitting name, I agree. And so it shall be named," the Miruvorthaer announces, taking a glass herself. She pauses for a moment and then turns to Mirodhel again. With the inquiring look from before still lingering in her eyes as if she is not quite sure what Mirodhel would find so memorable about her words, she says, "I would hope that you will remember other things from tonight as well."
Sidhel seems very pleased with the naming of the wine and with the ceremony in general. He hands the banner to a young retainer and steps forward to sample a glass of deep red Culyave. After a first sip he lifts his voice and in the old of Doriath he sings a song of green and gold, of the sunlight falling off the beech trees of Brethil.
Mirodhel is about to answer Paithel when Sidhel begins singing. The Noldo falls silent as the Sinda goes on with his fine song of ancient things.
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