Tales of Eldelórne

by Karleigh Bon

  “I believe now, that he was somehow magically taken away… into the waves of Ilmatar. My small brother’s grief was so deep, I know there can be no other explanation for what I witnessed.”

  Roe struggled with something else on his mind as he made a painful decision. He kept his eyes fearfully riveted on Calan as he slowly untied his scarf, “and my ears, they betray me into hardship among men.” Terror rose in his gut as he revealed his secret to this man and expected the worst for it. He didn’t want to fight with him.

  Calan’s eyes teared in earnest as all shred of doubt he might have had about Roe fell away. “Then it is all true! This is not a dream where I will find disappointment upon waking. Oh, my boy,” he cried, as he stood up and clasped Roe to his chest; welcoming him into the family, releasing all his fears.

  Roevash didn’t know what to say. He was surprised again. In three hundred years of toiling among humans, this was not the reaction he was accustomed to.

  Roevash’s Prayer

  Chapter Seven

  The Darjal’n Rangers led Roevash to their hidden outpost in the Illianheni foothills. It was so near where he grew up, and yet it was unknown to him. Roevash looked at the broken down rotting tree trunks and remembered his mother’s stories of how beautiful the place once was. She had never brought him to this garden for some reason. When he was young, he imagined something terrible happened to her here, so again, in his fear and support of her feelings, he never asked.

  They walked down a stone path that had seen better days towards a rocky cliff face that jutted out. The place was a sheltered, shady spot where many wildflowers grew. There on the ground, he saw the freshly carved stone that marked his father’s grave.

  Roevash read the epitaph out loud. The words were written in his mother's tongue, “I give you all my heart, Thendiel.” Roevash’s eyes stung with tears. His breath seized at speaking his mother’s name. Calan felt his own grief for his lost brother, as well as for this young man, who was just returned to his family. He placed a consoling hand on Roe’s shoulder as he felt his own tears coming. Roe fell mournfully to his knees, and wept inconsolably staring at the gravestone.

  After showing respect for their fallen comrade, the men backed away, giving the family privacy for their grief. Calan reluctantly had to leave because his duties demanded it.

  Roevash was left alone with his whole long life of misery, and misunderstanding crashing down around him. He cried for the father he would never know, and his lost mother and brother. The agony of it poured out of him like waves of an ocean when suddenly another realization hit hard, "I am not a monster! I am from an honorable man. I am born of the love of my mother and father... LOVE... I was born of love ...” his voice trailed off into a bare whisper in his exhaustion. As with all young ones, perception comes with time. Roe received the grace he needed to release this pain he had carried for so long. He sent all the losses he’d suffered out to the Lords; letting a new song grow in his heart.

  It began to rain, and Roevash looked peacefully into the storm above. He was born anew as the drops fell onto his face, washing away salty tears. Lightning flashed across the sky, and he smiled. His uncle suddenly appeared beside him, urging him inside. “Come, come in before the unforgiving torrent of waters floods the pools. You will be stuck out here if that should happen.”

  Roevash was finished. He was tired, hungry, cold, and very relieved that he had never succeeded in cutting off his ears.

  This day was a new day to start again.

  +++

  Calan was the younger brother of Roe’s father. They were from a clan of very tall, sturdy men from Darjalia, a mountainous region few ordinary humans dare climb to the farthest northwest. The Lords of Ilmatar had blessed Their bloodline with long lives because they helped the newly born elves when they were first sent into the realm of men.

  History tells us the elves found themselves awake having washed up on the sandy northern shores. They were delicate and silent like the deer with no will to fight. Unknowing they wandered in small groups naked into the lands. Common men, who were easily swayed into evil behavior, thought it sport to hunt and kill or even torture them.

  Bands of such men with clubs were found bludgeoning the elves to death in great numbers before the elves could even stand up on their newly formed legs.

  The Darjal’n put a stop to the killings and from that day on they patrolled their northern shores, gathering in the remaining Edhellen; protecting them until they came into their full awareness.

  +++

  It was good to be among honorable folk who felt like a family. Roevash had not realized how much he missed this kind of kinship. Battle and war had afforded him little or no kindness in all these years. His lost right eye was always an ugly reminder of this. He wore his hand-sewn leather patch to cover it up, but it was never forgotten. The eye covering didn’t make him look any less distinguished, because Roevash would still be considered handsome. He just couldn’t accept this in his mind.

  Always thinking himself grotesque his behavior sometimes twisted to match those feelings, and he had practiced a dark, stubborn temperament. War allowed him to vent a blackened rage on the enemy, and he did so very well and efficiently. He had become a deadly foe and valued among comrades, that is until they noticed he never aged or they spied his ears.

  Men he’d run up against felt justified in their anger toward the Edhellen. They thought the elves disappeared when they needed them most. They had no understanding of Lord Untuoni or how the call of their Lords compelled them with such pain to leave this realm. No matter what the cause, without reason, whenever he was discovered, they directed all their outrage at Roevash. It was as if he was to be held personally to blame for all the elves that ever lived in the kingdom.

  Humans inevitably became violent, and Roe suffered verbal and sometimes physical abuse. Lucky for his attackers he chose not to fight back against their ignorance as he very well could have. Not wanting to harm innocents, even if they had deserved it, Roevash would remind himself, “Human life is made short enough without my help.”

  Then he would slip away where he would be unknown and find another force of soldiers to join. There was always fighting. Always rumors of war. All the while, as he traveled, he would inquire after his younger brother, "Blond with odd eyes?”

  Humans had never heard of such a person, so he moved on. In those days, Roe felt so alone, living among humans.

  +++

  “Nin hawn, Guren níniatha lû n'i a-govenitham, shining one, I carry these tears in your name.

  Lost in strands of time, and spirit song. May your heart find solace, and your pain diminish. I was cruel and deserve naught to hear your voice or see your beautiful eyes shine again. I have filled your heart with such tears of despair. I can only pray my desire to find you unharmed comes real, that I might embrace you as true brothers will. Time is on our side for we are Edhellen. I will not stand by our mother’s home again, until you are returned with me... gweston i de cherithon. This is my solemn vow.”

  These are the words Roevash spoke from his heart as he knelt and prayed over his fathers grave. He solemnly visited the marker every day since he came to Illianheni nearly eight months earlier. He had taken up talking to his father and mother as if they were there somewhere near the stone. Roe found some comfort in knowing they were happy once. He liked to imagine them walking here in the grand gardens of the past. It also helped him make up his mind concerning his future, and what to do next to find his brother.

  +++

  Young Eijlam’s mother had just disappeared from his sight when his older brother’s face turned upon him. It was distorted and frightening as he bellowed loud booming words. Eijlam did not hear words. He just felt the accusations, and fear. The wave of his brother’s anger crashed hard, so he turned and he ran. Eijlam thought to disappear through the forest to the river beyond, to grieve for a time alone, but he was caught up in a brilliant unseen light.

  There was a muffled poppin
g noise as the air seemed to gel in his ears and thicken around him. He shattered apart into a billion tiny glittering fragments. He was so startled that he snapped himself back together by sheer accident.

  He tripped forward and tumbled over loosely through a stream of it as if swimming through an ocean current. There was no up or down. He would have continued spiraling except, by his will, he brought himself to a stop. In that instant, he was standing somewhere that he did not recognize.

  Strangely, he did not feel afraid as he glanced down at his hands and saw that he still had all sides of his solid reassembled fingers. Looking around, he found a faintly familiar scene, a faded garden in a fine mist. He could hear the mindful hum of all things in creation and the silent flowing music from a host of unseen voices that inhabited this place. Something, or someone, whispered gently in his mind and comforted him.

  “I am tired,” he thought as he lay down into the nothingness and slept.

  Lady Of Light

  Chapter Eight

  Roevash mapped out a path that followed the mountain range northeast toward the kingdom of Caras Eldarhon. He was going to seek answers about his brother from Queen Galbraeth. Dressed in a dark cloak and rangers clothes given to him by his uncle, he packed his satchel light for the long journey on foot.

  “You could always be a guardian of these lands when you return,” his uncle said hopefully.

  “You have been nothing but kind to me,” Roevash replied. “I have no way of knowing if I will find my brother Eijlam or be able to return. It is good to know that I am always welcome though. I promise... I will come back if I can.”

  “That is all we can ever do,” his uncle said wearily with a smile. Calan was nearing the end of his years as a mortal man, and he wondered if he would ever see Roevash again in this lifetime. “...And you are sure you do not want a horse?” he worried.

  “No, I can travel faster on foot.” Roevash genuinely smiled. Again he found a good reason to be thankful for his elven blood. “I no longer cover my ears,” he said, looking into his uncle's eyes. Both knew the many changes of heart that had transpired since Roe had followed them to Illianheni twelve months earlier.

  Roevash had cut off his unruly dreadlocks and shaved his beard down to a more manageable length. In the mirror was a handsome figure looking back. He was surprised at how different he saw himself.

  “You are a good man. Your father would be proud… I am proud,” Calan said, reaching to embrace his brother’s only son.

  “It is good to know you, beloved uncle,” Roe said with a touch of sadness at having to say this goodbye. “You know that even though I seem old enough as a man, I am still considered young in my elven clan.” He continued, “My brother is even younger, and pure-blooded. He might seem like a child in human eyes. I fear for him if he is alone in this land and I wonder if he is even alive…” He didn’t want to think about that possibility.

  “I hope you will find the answers you seek,” Calan said in his most supportive tone. “You are all the family I have left in the kingdom, my boy. Please do not think harshly of me for wanting to keep you near,” his uncle confessed.

  “I will not ever forget you uncle,” Roe smiled and hugged him soundly again. “You have given me back my honor and my heart where for too long there was only emptiness buried here inside. I owe you much for that.” Roe put his hand on his chest where his heart was.

  Calan couldn’t help but smile at the truth of Roe’s words. With no more to say, Roevash nodded and smiled goodbye and turned his mind to the path ahead of him.

  Picking up the pace, Roevash ran through the forest with the grace of a fast-moving deer. He did not stop for many days. He swiftly crossed along the northern edge of the Illianheni Mountain range through the grassy foothills.

  He finally came to ruins at the south edge of the Rahedan Forest. There he planned to rest half a night. He pulled himself up, into the branches of a sturdy tree. He was high enough above ground to avoid trouble while waiting for sunrise. He pulled out his last crust of bread and an apple for a cold meal. A murder of crows passed overhead winging south in the darkness of the evening sky.

  “How odd,” Roevash thought, “to take flight by moonlight.”

  The massive flock moved through the air winging so close together they seemed like a black cloud when off in the distance. The shadow of crows came and went so fast it was as if they were searching for something or someone. Covered by his cloak, against the trunk of the enormous tree, Roevash held his breath hoping unnoticed under the thick canopy of branches. Another thing he’d noticed is goblins were everywhere. Roe had run silently past several parties of them menacingly close to the mountain borders.

  “Something is still not right in this land,” he thought to himself as he took a last bite of apple and discarded the core below.

  Roe leaned into the tree and tried to get some sleep.

  Daylight sent the evil underground and afforded relatively safe passage over land. Roevash was at the edge of the ancient Dwarven kingdom after only half a day’s run. As the trail turned north, he entered Caras Eldarhon just before sundown.

  Glynnath voices permeated the place with ethereal music. It was a song of the true death and rebirth that Roevash was all too familiar with. Someone told him one of the great wizards has passed out of their sight and they mourned his loss. They showed him a place to stay while he waited for an audience with the queen.

  Roevash in all his travels had never been so far across the realm as this. He marveled at the beauty of the structures and long age of the traditions here.

  Wandering slowly through the gardens, Roe felt the sharp, subtle difference of a closer connection to the spirit of this land. The voices of life surrounded him, awakening his elven nature as never before. In this realm, time is nullified, and existence was not painful like it was in the outside territories of humankind. It was the grace of the light. The light was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Roe walked among the golden-haired elves as unquestionably one of their own even though he was a head and shoulder taller and had a darker complexion and facial hair. His face showed the many scars of a battle-weary soldier, and those were only the ones visible.

  Roevash met some travelers near the garden’s center fountain who were grieved over the loss of one of their companions. Roe thought about his own anger and grief. He reflected on how before he had met his uncle, he let that shape and define his life.

  By the time Roe was called for an audience with the queen, his shimmering sable brown hair had grown out to halfway down his back. He shaved his face clean and tied up his hair with the formal, intricate plaited work of his clan. The braids ran across both sides of his head and down behind his ears. He had been given perfectly fitted, silken green-gold brocade tunics to wear; in the tradition of Caras Eldarhon.

  The moment had finally arrived. Roevash was escorted to the throne room to meet with the queen. She stood before him on a throned platform with her husband and their guards.

  “Mê g’ovannen gi suilon, son of Marin, beloved among elves, son of Thendiel Kingsaver, and brother...” the queen trailed off staring at him solemnly. “The path you walk has been filled with both pain and wisdom,” she spoke with a commanding voice. Her words poured over him like a glaring spotlight.

  “Yes, beloved lady,” was all he could choke out of his throat as he fell respectfully, and suddenly terrified to one knee, bowing his head before her countenance.

  She was suddenly, somehow, gently lifting his face upward in both her hands where just a moment before he had seen her speaking from high up on the reception platform. Startled, he looked upon her radiant face so close to his, slowly lifting the patch over his missing eye socket. In horror, he wanted to cringe and pull away, run and hide in his ugliness, but he found he couldn’t move. Galbraeth cradled his face in her fingertips and looked fully upon him with calm demeanor.

  “All the reminders of past lives that fill us with regret pass away,” she turned her thoughts
into his mind. With the touch of her gentle kiss on his scarred and sunken eyelid, he could feel the strange weight of it, as his lost eye was reborn into its socket. Tears poured down uncontrollably as sorrow turned into joy in her arms. He felt small, helpless, unable to speak. His whole life passed through his mind like waves of a dream.

  Roe awoke in his chamber days later. All the pain and the scars were gone from his body, and his right eye returned. He remembered she had held him tight in her embrace, like a mother holding her elfling, until he disappeared into a healing sleep.

  Galbraeth whispered a song in his heart, “Your brother is safely away in the arms of our father, Lord Lourien. Grieve not. He will be returned to the realm of mortal man before long. Your prayers will be answered one way or another.”

  During his visit, the queen had never moved from her place on the throned platform where she stood. One of the attendants told Roe they had carried him out of the audience chamber shortly after he fainted before her. He was not surprised that his meeting with the queen seemed that way to onlookers. She was indeed one of the divines and had the powers of creation at her call.

  He never saw her again after that. Roevash kept all this in his heart and thought about what she meant concerning his younger brother Eijlam.

  “Then all there is to do is wait,” Roe held a renewed hope as he looked out over the horizon.

  Roevash decided to go back to his uncle. They were well into the Third Age. Too many wars and uprisings scared the mortal lands. Roevash had fought enough. He thought helping Calan through his elder years would be the noble thing to do. Plus he already missed him. Roe smirked at that as he packed his bags for the journey home.

  “Home…” Roe smiled. “Family again.” It warmed his heart.

  Many long years into the future near the Capitol city of Drustnlach:

  Eijlam woke flat on his back, blinking his eyes wide open. The first thing that came into focus was a tangled mass of dark red hair and green eyes. It was all attached to a strangely distorted girl face. Her eyes looked sullen or maybe resolved. Whatever it was, it was serious.