Estelion
TITLE:
Isthir a Randir (Lore Master and Wanderer) - Ally to Nos Narthanaer
DESCRIPTION:
Time, judging by the the marks left on his features, has been counsellor and friend to this elf, walking patiently by his side rather than chasing him menacingly. In fact, the skin is still fair and spotlessly pale as when he was born, in an Age now long gone. But the eyes, sapphire as the clearest sea, resonate with a depth that only the passage of uncountable images and starlit nights might have carved. There is a well trained wisdom in their gaze, and they move quickly, as if constantly searching for something, adding a somewhat eerie touch of impertinence to the overall effect.
Hair is long and unbraided, ending asymetrically in a diagonal line. Moonless midnight is the colour, and a V-shaped silver ring embraces it halfway. An elegant dark blue tunic of exquisite making, gracefully decorated by silvery vines that fall in lines as tiny drops of enchanted rain, covers most of his body. Only a pair of black leggings, richly embroidered but comfortable enough to allow long walks, surface from under the tunic. Black is also the colour of the boots, decorated on their side by silvery marks that represent sigils and emblems, though only few in this Age would be able to recognize most of them.
PERSONA:
Estelion is known primarily in Imladris for his role as Isthir of the Istfariath. His greed for knowledge is well-known, as well as his tendency to pursue research in every field. His lore has always been a river with many affluents, and few are the topics he ignores completely. He spends considerable amounts of time teaching to young edhil - for he thinks there is always something new to learn in teaching and spreading knowledge - though he is at the same time keeper of ancient secrets, from days that many in this Age have no means to recall.
Another well-known trait of Estelion's personality is his independence, and the tendency to act unpredictably and leave the Valley for long periods without notice. Knowing some bit of new lore is always to be expected at his return, Elrond counts him in the group of the Randir of Imladris.
Relatively little is known of his past. What is known is that he was born early in the Second Age, in Lindon, and that he was among those that followed Elrond when Imladris was founded.
Though he is skilled with the sword, Estelion's nature definitely calls for a diplomatic solution to problems. Nevertheless, he never conceals his aversions, unless circumstances require it. It is not a secret that the reason why he is just mildly tied to Nos Narthanaer, to which after all his relatives belong, is due to one of the aforementioned aversions towards one of its prominent members.
HISTORY:
If every story needs a beginning, we can start ours with an end. The end is the end of a dream that was dreamt in ancient times, a dream of white walls protected by Seven Gates, as seven motherly embraces, a dream of safety and beauty that was named Gondolin.
And in Gondolin lived Ilbrantion and Mithwen, both Sindar, and they were among the architects that built the city when it was founded, contributing to the uniqueness and beauty of its streets and quarters, and there they had given birth to a daughter, Elwiel.
And they were there when terror struck from the North, there when what was white became red, there when the end that is the beginning of our tale had its start. Red as the blood of dying friends. Red as the fire from the Dragons' foul breath. Red as the fear that was suddenly exploding, there where it had never dwelt, for many centuries. And Mithwen and Ilbrantion were there when Balrogs killed their closest friends, and with their eyes they beheld the fall of their dreams, constructions so splendid that none would have equal in Middle Earth, palaces that had been a testament to all that was great and proud, masterpieces they had designed and loved as their own children, all swept away by the wingbeat of the Worms and the fury of Orcs. Not only Gondolin was falling. The very substance of their dreams was falling. Their love for beauty, their care, their efforts. All crumbling to dust in the blink of an eye. So easily. They were there when the tall tower that was the greatest and most impressive of their creations collapsed in a thunder of fire and dust. Such was the horror in their eyes that the Dragon that put it to flames, one of Glaurung's fiercest and most powerful companions, lingered with his gaze on their fear, enjoying the sight immensely. And immediately his hideous eyes moved to Elwiel, their daughter, for the beast had realized he could drink even more of their terror by hurting the young one. At that sight, an unforeseen strength enveloped Ilbrantion's heart, and he put himself between his wife and daughter and the Dragon, and such was the fierceness in his eyes that the beast was distracted for a moment, what was enough for Mithwen and Elwiel to flee. When the Dragon's surprise vanished, fury easily took its place. In a few seconds, Ilbrantion's left arm and leg were cut off, for in the Worm's intentions he should have died slowly. But just in that moment a group of defenders of the City came to attack the Dragon, and some of them managed to take the injured edhel to safety.
Gondolin was torn down forever. The survivors were disbanded and sparse, and fear and shadow would inhabit their hearts for many days and nights.
Here our story meets a first return of hope, for soon the groups of survivors from the White City began to reunite, and Ilbrantion and his wife met again, and their daughter was with her, still young and uncorrupted. Shining was joy in their hearts, for they hadn't known anything of each other since the day Gondolin fell.
And they were still alive, and the light of the Silmaril was with their people. But hope was soon to fade again, and eyes that had not seen but joy and peace for centuries would behold blood and death again, after such a brief time.
Maedhros and Maeglin came to claim their Father's creation, and they moved war to their kin. If possible, blood was more bitter and tears saltier than during the fall of Gondolin, for this time it was in other elves' eyes that hate dwelt, it was by hands that should have been called brothers' hands that friends were being killed.
But Ilbrantion's familiy was spared once again, for Cirdan's and Gil-Galahad's armies came to save them, and bring all the survivors to Balar. Soon war would stain Middle Earth once more, though, this time for the final defeat of Morgoth, and the end of the First Age.
==============================================================================
Estelion (#32550), Isthir a Randir (Lore Master and Wanderer) - Ally to Nos Narthanaer
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
CULTURE: Sinda Imladhrim POSITION: Player
SPECIES: Quendi FLAGS: -C----/DHPf/OOC
SEX: Male FIRST-ON: Oct 11 2003
BORN: SA 42 TOP: 28m 24s
LOCATION: Offline
LAST CONNECT: Thu Aug 02 00:17:31, was connected til Thu Aug 02 01:05:49.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If I were a swan, I'd be gone / If I were a train, I'd be late / And if I were a good man, I'd talk with you more often than I do. - RW
==============================================================================