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11/20/2023 05:41 PM
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LuthienBeren-Lineage
THE CEREMONYIn the back of the wooden closet, Luthien reached for an old vegetable woven straw sack, the same her and her sisters were clothed in and as Beren turned her remembered her insistence, her cries as she gathered all the floral dressings her kin wore when they were taken. Much were crushed in the dirt the cage was placed upon. But Luthien picked up as many flowers, petals too, and blew away the grim and soil. He did not understand why she would even spare another second when he held the cage open wide expecting his little dove to fly away or with him not picking up the broken remains of lost lives. Now, as he stood and watched her with the large sack in her hands, he understood. Understood it all. The beauty of the elvens. Their thoughts, sacrifice, often quiet and unnoticed but the deep loyalty and connection to each other.   Luthien explained to Beren how they were all connected. The interweaving between quilted valleys and the same water flow and that they first must bathe in the clothes they were, thoughts, hearts in the memories, some harsh then the love we felt for them all. He didn't quite understand it all. Her words sometimes sounded like a magical fable. A riddle he had yet to sort in his mind, but as she laced her fingers into his larger ones they entered the lake's pristine edge as the coolness, lapping of lily pads caressed and surrounded the two as Luthien spoke in her sindarin tongue. She instructed him with the ebb and curve of her body to follow her lead as he laid mesmerized in her silken flow. It was almost maddening, intoxicating as she looked like poetry liquefied as her gentle words spilled. It was more intimate than even making love. The few times that he had. His heart thudded wildly, his breathing hitched, even though he knew it wasn't the time. But his urges were not of lust. It was love for the broken, shattered parts she often hid. He wanted to be her warrior. Only hers. No lands, greater good. His life serving the purpose of healing his beauty as she healed him. A sharp brisk snap of a twig, leaves crumbling, broke their ritual as Luthien reacted like a scared fawn but then soon saw the villagers from the day before. "There here love." Her eyes fixated, serious as she gazed into his haunted eyes, still captivated swept away from moments before as she smiled sweetly, softly kissing him, recognizing the look of love in her mortal's eyes. "I love you. Let's be brace and lead with our love." Lacing her fingers in his again, they slowly, carefully not to disturb the lily pads, reached the sands where the water touched the earth and standing front and centre before Luthien was the same older woman from the day prior holding an object covered in an old cloth. "Luthien, "her voice was raspy, shaking as if she was weathering many storms in her mind and the young elven's heart felt the thorns of her own, and slipped her hands from Beren's over the woman's holding the cloaked object tight. "Yes dear one." Her own voice shaking, but filled with compassion and love, and she nodded her head, knowing the woman sought forgiveness from the previous day with no words spoken. It was not necessary. Her heart said it all. Like a dam holding back a hundred lifetimes tears streamed down the thin worn lines of her face. Lines from age, weariness, happiness and Luthein was sure a resonating heartache. "My son was a great artist. He was painting before he even learned how to write. We went days at times, my husband and I who is long passed, many a days without three meals to make sure he always had the watercolours parchment he needed to paint, or free his soul as my late husband would say" She squeezed Luthien's hands before releasing it and smiled quickly at Beren, then tugged the cloth covering an old painting of a young maiden, an elven it would seem. Luthien eyes flickered in the realization of why this woman's heart ached in such sorrow, and leaned into Beren's broad chest with her cheek, needing to listen to the comfort of his heart. "This is a painting he drew once of his love. His only love. An elven like you that he met when he wandered looking for a muse, inspiration to paint. He was madly in love with her Luthien and this was at a time more so than even now it was forbidden, and our village was harsh in their ways. Beatings, even death if showed compassion to your kind."  The woman paused as the others alongside her placed their hands on her shoulders for support, and she nodded her head before she continued and gazed at them with a gentle thankful look, and Luthien laced her own small fingers into Beren's shaking, tearing as well. "When the men, elders in our village, long passed now found out my son's sin as they saw it to be. They cast him out into the forest, where he met his love. The elven girl between the shadows of the tree's. As they lad in slumber, the stars twinkling above. Our men slaughtered them both equally, calling it an abomination and would bring damnation to us all. They didn't even bring back a lock of his hair. I had nothing more left but this painting and his remaining clothes. But today Luthien daughter of Thingol and Melian, alongside of your true love, Lord Beren I shall honour your loss, Beren's and mine as well." Luthien could no longer stop the flow of tears as she wrapped her slender arms around the woman tightly, sobbing, whispering into her ears." I'm so sorry dear one for your loss. No mother should bear such a tragedy. No kin should bear this burden of hate. It may be a small gathering, but let's start here. Spread the seed of love, peace today."  Luthien slipped her fingers in the older woman's and glanced at them all and bowed her head in pray. " We ask for forgiveness Valar, blessings, a new day upon these lands. We are small in numbers, all that gather today. But with your eyes, hearts we can soar. On the wings of Manwe's eagles we beg, pray for this among all. After the prayer was said, all gathered at the edge of the lake and lit the candles each brought, a parchment of loving words for those they loosed and alongside of Beren cast them on the surface of the lake as the golden chalice winked across the sky and yawned behind the sacred mountains.    As they place the floral head dresses and light each candle in the centre, she could see her sister's, Beren's men reclaiming the shine in their eyes, rejoicing and almost dancing alongside of them. The rest of the ev was spent in merriment, with food, ale and mead for all. As they shared stories of their loved ones, sung elven as well as mortal songs. Tinuviel even glimpsed her lost sisters sitting faraway by the stoking fire as embers like wishing stars pirouetted to the Valar's ears and they villagers alongside of Beren and Luthien witnessed Varda's shooting stars.    Perhaps it was a promise of hope, a changing of tide that would follow the current and wash up on every shore. Or maybe it was just the beginning. Luthien, nor Beren could truly know. But as they huddled to the other watching the embers flicker like fae and dance, with the laughter of the others too, their hearts felt at home for the first time since the taking of their beloved Doriath. Chapter One-Star Crossed Lover'sChapter Two- The VillageChapter Three- A Fractured Lineage
Beren had awakened early as his elven princess still lad asleep snuggled in a dishevelment of crisp ivory linens and wrinkled puffy quilts appearing like clouds soothingly engulfing the slumbering angel as she slept. A steamy kettle of coffee waft in the cottage as he poured a hearty cup and gazed out the frosty edged window, already feeling winter breath as it often did, give the height and depth they were staying alongside this mountainside village. At first, he thought it to be no more than a resting stop. A pause in the vicious pages of their lives since first leaving the horrid camps, travelling for what seemed like weeks until taking refuge at the Inn. A place no better, no worse, than the camps they left.
Just steady lighting, four walls and plenty of drink to drown out the shattered cries, batted breaths and tempered glassy almond shaped eyes he would often see, but try to avoid when fetching them food or ale. If he could, he would've saved them all. Each somber broken cry, trembling, fragile reaching hands, splayed fingers that raised up when they would glimpse the shared sorrow in the undercurrent of his eyes. He had fooled his own kin for many months, and even years, after his childlike mind matured and realized their hatred was based on nothing more than a mirage lingering in the lost lands of their mind. A nonsensical way to extinguish the Orcs by placing damnation upon an innocent kind.
One they did not understand, or choose to. They viewed them as meek, weak and lacking the courage and bravery to take matters into their own hands. Often feeling they should self-sacrifice for the greater good, given the only solid fact they knew of the elven's was their devotion and unwavering love for Middle Earth. So how could they not see by their own blood, flesh, it was being destroyed?
The concept would make sense to a younger mind, or one that was born to follow and not lead. But Beren's lineage went back centuries as strong huntsman, trackers who could read every threading of the forest, let along the visage of one's face. But why was it only him that questioned what had been breed and steered into their minds. They too, his very own father, perhaps grandfather would view him as weak just as they viewed the elven and the very woman he had fallen deeply in love with. A long-drawn-out sigh slipped past his earthy tone lips steaming the window before him as he heard soft docile whimpers stirring from her rosebud lips as she fidgeted swooshing the sheets between her creamy ample legs.
Luthien was a vision. Even among her own kind. One that as a little boy, long before he ever laid eyes upon her kin, he often dreamt of eavesdropping on the warriors returning from an excursion gathering much needed supplies and catching a glimpse of the beauties bathing in the streams. The soft tinkling of water cascading over the curvature of their supple breasts. Pale satin porcelain skin glistening as the chalice above caroled through the trees and rustling leaves, trying as they may to keep them hidden kept as a treasured secret. Their chumming melodic giggles, like a thousand harps intoxicating all those who would hear, comparable to the evil water nymphs that lured and drowned many of the mortal men
Young Beren would listen to their stories far away from their loved ones or spouses alike as their eyes drew heavily from ale of the vivid remembrance of her elven kind. That is when he began to dream of them, wonder and question the elders when they spoke. How could such a gentle species, one delved from the cradle of Yavanna's hand, be sacrificed, slaughtered even if for what they felt to be the greater good. Why not join their ranks and protect fight alongside them, he would sometimes voice out. His voice filled with emotions, too much at times, as it caught the attention of his father's suspicious down casting eyes.
After their meetings, he would grab the young lad by the scruff of his ears. His voice brimming, burning in disdain, disgust, embarrassed by his son's unfavourable views. "Do you not love your own kind, young one? Blasphemy is what you speak of! Protect? Help? " Scoffing as he glanced around to make sure no one overheard. "They are weak, like a crisp autumn leaf. They will crumble, break in one second of battle!" He paused and placed his long rough index finger under the lad's chin.
"Look at me, Beren. Heed my words. These decisions have been passed down. Long thought out. It's a mercy we give them. A service and one they cannot make on their own. This too is a weakness of theirs. All their talk, speeches, love of middle earth when it is their blood. An abomination. Sometimes in life we must make decisions that are shaded in grey and have faith in our elders. This is one of them, Beren. You must, or I fear you shall share the same fate with not a twing I can do."
He could still hear him, feel his casting gaze even from the heaven's above judging him, voicing to him, he was fighting a losing battle. It was the very current of the lakes, streams that veined throughout all the lands. It was so and just. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the beautiful lass whimpers and muffled cries. And as he gazed back upon her petite frame, the softness of her exposed legs, long tussle of midnight strands like the wildness of the forbidden blackened sea plastering to her tear-stained cheeks as she still slept but not with ease knowing her felt her sister's cries.
He wondered for a fleeting moment, not even a shuddering breath, were they taking upon a battle they could never win? Would they break? Shatter like a beautiful mosaic and wash away at the river's edge? Or could their love, faith change the churning of the lakes and bring peace, promise to the lands they both loved and among their kin?
"Mm, Beren?" She had finally awakened, and almost as the swift change from night to day, his thoughts no longer fell to the shadows as his Tinuviel sat up almost clumsily placing the weight of her upper frame on her elbows and whipped away the sleepy's of her violet eyes with her small fists knitted looking upon her love almost knowingly.
She was so docile, meek and spoke her heart in every word. But he could see the black slivers, scars left upon her that she often hid away, but her sorrow she never could. Not to him. He felt it as he felt his own. It was a talons whip. The Valar's piercing bolt chasing away the night for when he first saw Luthien on that blessed day in Doriath the exquisite pain he felt in her beauty, soul, even when he appeared playful sliced him deeper than any warrior's word.
"Come, my beloved, "She purred, even though he knew the heaviness she must be feeling. "You'll catch your death!" -giggling- "And I only just met you, and I am not ready for it to end." He could hear her words etched in the slightest of sorrow, knowing she too must share the same fears as he. Worried they would perish, break and be no more than a foolish memory. Luthien peeled back the warm linens, beckoning Beren to join her back in their bed, and he smirked like a cheater cat and pounced into their bed.
He couldn't help his festering hands as he tickled at her sides, hips ad she tried to smack him away but couldn't help but to giggle before climbing over his wide hips. She could feel his aching groan as she splayed her tiny legs wide over his masculine frame as it crackled, shifted from sorrow to heat, ember fires of forbidden love as the dark mocha of his eyes glinted captured by his lass whom he wanted to consume more than anything. He quickly played surrendered, knowing it was not the day for such emotions, and placed his large hands over his head. "You win, my beauty! I am at your mercy. Where no other warrior has ever been able to do, your heart, your touch leaves me by all of Valar upon my very knee's."
Tears welled in her almond - shaped eyes, for his words carried more depth, and she knew served two meanings, as her own words faltered for a moment and tears splattered freely over his bristled cheeks. Luthien swallowed back a cry as she dragged the pearl of her teeth over her bottom tier and angled the curvature of her pretty face as her dark tresses shrouded the lover's casting her own night over her Beren. If one could carve a perfect specimen delved from the very spirit, richness of the forest and majestic wonder of the sky, they still would fail trying to embody the essence of Lord Beren with all his perfections and imperfect lines.
With her small hand, she gingerly swept it over the squareness of his cheek and wiped away her teardrop as she leaned down and lovingly moulded her lips upon his. "And by all of Maia, my mother's lead and father's bravery too. I would gladly perish in all the flames of mordor to share one lifetime. Even if just a moment with you. You do not have to wear a mask for me Beren. I can hear them too. Our ancestors beyond the veiling ones still conflicted, ones who bless our union. But none of this matters. We are not children any more, and we have our own minds, hearts. We knew even when we were younger the wrongs, injustice we have seen, we just lacked the courage."
Luthien leaned back up as she straddled over Beren and let her fingers spill over his chest, heart, and he saw something in her, he never before seen. She was like a beacon, A lighthouse in the midst of a damning storm as the sky churned, winds howled, she remained still, steady, wanting to lead them back home. Her light internal and suddenly he had renewed faith, perhaps they could change the tide. The ways taught long ago... Perhaps. His large hands slid over his love and her eyes flickered and lighted up as she gazed down and weaved her small one through his as if completing a novella, pages a laminate of their fated song.
"A life lived in such a way, with not one day spared. One that is breed from love, truth and courage beloved is worth a thousand lifetimes." Luthien lips curled upwards as a rose first opening in spring. "We will not do this for them. The vastness of middle earth, although we wish this too. We do this for us. Our unborn I see in your eyes. The voices wanting to be heard. I am in love with you Lord Beren. I could not be more sure, more strong in this if I tried. We have already one the war beloved. We have each other and that is what matters now.
The churning of gray clouds reflected of the turbulence in their own hearts, gave way to a sea of azure like the purity of a Valars eye watching over the lands below. The misty mountains shrouded in diamond cut frost melted into droplets of stars as the sun rose higher, warming the crisp, cool autumn air. Luthien always viewed them as faithful guardians. Ones that sheltered, protected from invading hands and weather unfavourable to their crops, and she couldn't think of a more perfect blessing than seeing the sabar tooth cut piercing the vastness of the canvas above.
Primrose petals, slivers of light cut away between the dark bark of almost bare branches and over the slick blades of grass and the thinly iced over stream outside their cottages flowed as little sleepy guppies to a deep resounding breath. Today would be the remembrance of her sister and Beren's fall too. Not one of mourning, sadness. But a celebration of love, the lives they lead, soul's touched and the better parts of their lives spoken of, bleeding through. Luthien thought of the villagers and prayed they would come as well and perhaps the innocence of a child's mind, and not the ignorance would shine down and renew their hearts, erasing the hate too.
A simple cotton maiden's dress hung loosely on a wooden hanger, flowing in the slight breeze slipping through the cracked window of their room as Luthien stood in front of her love melding a hemming of tangled threading of his ivory poet's shirt. She could feel the gravity in his look, his worrisome gaze as she stood on her tipsy toes and cusped his cheek with the satin of her palm and kissed his lips- "Do not fret, love. If they show, it will be in peace. I trust in our ancestors to guide their hearts on this day and open their eyes. I can feel it, even if it's a tiny ripple, change will come at the end of this day."
All the valley's lakes and streams flowed from the top of the mountains and bleed below. It was the eyes of the mountains christened by the Valar into the water and veined into forests of all. Yavanna showed us lessons in all her ways. That we are all connected and are born, sustained by the same waters and crops that feed. The lakes that flow were the very life force of middle earth and when a soul, such as her sisters, were placed in its depths, parts of their spirit will always remain within. Beren's men were no exception. The ones who stood, and would not partake in the desolation of her kin.
Where also dis-guarded like torn worn cloth having of no value and tossed in the lakes. But with their own, they at least closed the windows of their soul's as the shine faded to dust. Unlike her sisters who were not given even the decency you would livestock before they were swept away like an old child's toy. Some of the men even removed the trinkets her sister's wore. Most handmade by their loved ones, betrothed to either pawn it or give it to their own loved ones and as they did this disgraceful act Luthien did something un-elven and hexed upon each one who commited this crime. "Damn them. Damn them all!" She cried behind the bars of the cage they kept them in.
When Luthien finished hemming Beren's shirt, she turned and faced the window overlooking the lake outside and raised her hands high above her head as Beren slipped over her the maiden's snow-white dress as they both remained silent reliving those days, nights in their minds...
Luthien felt the last knotting of her dress, as Beren tugged and made what she envisioned the perfect bow around the back of her waist and swayed her curves along his stoic chest and her instinctively snaked his strong arms around her waist. "My beauty," his voice, velvety and rich, tickled along the curve of her shoulders as she laced her slender arm, fingers around the nape of his neck. "They are not there any longer, Beren. My sisters, or your kin as well. " She mused, lost in her thoughts as she stared into the glimmer of sunlight sparkling over the pristine waters of the lake. As horrid as the images were, Luthien knew her kin were among nature again. The circle of life complete.
"Where we are borne Beren, we all must end. We sustain and care for this world long after we are gone and the lights in our eyes fade. With memories and our very flesh, we join the soil once again. It's why at twilight you can catch a gleam, a spirit, if your vision allows." A honey giggle spilled from her lips as she turned and placed her small fingers over his heart. Her eyes wild violets, gazing into the very dense dark radiance of his own. "We are either dancing in the shadow of the tree's or choose to be nightly guardians alongside of the moon. But we never leave. Merely transform beloved. Like the metamorphosis of a butterfly. We all shed our skins." Luthien closed her soft, delicate eyes and cupped the sides of his temples as her thumbs placed over his eyes lids, forcing them gingerly shut. "Look love. Allow it. Please."
From the edges of his eyes, she could feel the water of his tears and knew he saw her visions. The same she placed upon him.
"See beloved. They are no longer there. Let's honour them today and the brave mortals among your own, and pray for forgiveness for the rest"
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