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12/17/2023 02:28 PM
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Luthien-GrownUpYuleWIsh
In the time of Yule-
Lady Luthien stood in front of the window of the lowly Inn where she and Beren were staying. It had aged well past its youth and the walls wreaked in the many sins, smoke and grime that could never be washed away. Old wallpaper that showed the fainted outlines of brush painted flowers from a skilled hand that, although barely there, still held their beauty between each line, and as she gazed from the window to the wallpaper, she could not help but to let her fingertip follow the grove of each brush stroke and wondered what the artist had on their mind.
It had been snowing for more than two moons now, as the normally sharp, saber-toothed-edge mountains that remained clear even after a storm did not hold any resemblance to what they once were. Which troubled the residence that bravely decided to stay and bear this winter as they did the others before. Shutters in the neighboring houses and brick buildings across the dirt road had their shades and blinds closed throughout the duration of winter in what they hoped would shield their loved ones from the whistling winds that could sweep upon them causing a deadly cold
Luthien, despite her sensitivity to the cooler months, loved the coming of winter along the misty mountains and into the hills and valleys of her home in Doriath. Every surface imaginable looked like a mirror of time once lost. Or a picture taken by the eyes of the Valar and kept for a poetic eye. But in reality, it was simply frozen, resting under the season's nesting hand, awaiting spring to blossom through the rich earthy soil and darkening slick blades of blue grass that gasped under its jaded, sleep-inducing hand.
Each snowflake that fell held its own size, shape and even pearlized colour if you looked closely enough. But this year was different from the rest for Lady Luthien and although she knew they were magical, enchanting even for her they were like memories of a fragmented mind each one a face, heart of all those she missed and loved.
Beren lay in bed, watching quietly from the distance as his princess pondered her thoughts in deep reflection, although she tried to remain playfully and stuck her tongue against the glass, giggling when it almost stuck to the cold surface. But her smile never touched the shine in her eyes, and he knew he must do something—anything—still feeling responsible for the desecration of her village, given that it was he that had mapped out all the strengths and weaknesses of her lands. Much had been shared between the two on many nights as they lay in bed. But even more was yet to be spoken of, and he feared if they did, it may cause a rift and draw a fine line, causing their love to end.
Beren was lost in his own thoughts. The camps still plagued him in his own mind, and as many times as he wondered what he could have done differently, he was at a loss and felt as if he too was no more than a puzzle piece, a game in a lineage that lost their minds. He remembers even as a child, when the elders gathered to devise a plan to put a stop to the growing Orc population, that it was the oldest of his village who Beren always sensed had a hatred for the elvens that went far beyond the issue of the Orcs using them as breeding tools. Rumors circulated around him, and he kept to himself in his older years. Not many saw him unless a meeting was called, or he needed supplies for his home. It was the women of the village that spoke of a tryst he had in a forest on one autumn evening.
He, too, met an elven who enchanted him from the moment he met her. But she did not love him, and he felt toyed with by his emotions during the time they spent together. He was married then, and his fair wife caught wind of her husband's absence and where he was. So she followed him beyond the brushing, beyond a watchful eye, and caught them making love behind an old oak. She confronted her husband and chased the young elven lass away, and when she returned to the village, she took her belongings and their children, and that was the last he would see of her.
From that day on, whenever a meeting was held, his remarks and opinions were as sharp as a blade. He had no tolerance for the elvens and would not listen to opposing advice, shooting each one down until no one dared challenge him again
He did not like Lord Beren even then, for when he first told the others about his plans to eliminate the elvens at once, it was Beren who spoke up and shouted no because he too had seen the elven lasses. Their beauty and gentleness in the lakes miles from their homes. How could this be right?" he thought. As he looked at each one like a fresh blossoming flower come spring. But the old man barked back at once, with Beren's father placing his hand over his son's lips to stop any more blunders or defiance from slipping.
"You young laddie, "He scowled and squinted his grossly lined eyes. "You better watch your lips and that fevered tongue! Or I may have a mind to remove it as you sleep!"
Beren remembers that day vividly, and it has played in his mind ever since. But what could he have done? One young child to stand up to all the elders? But when he looked at his beauty staring out the window, trying her best to be playful and not let him see the tears, he was sure she was wiping them away. He wished he had done something more; perhaps so many innocent lives on both sides would have been saved instead of their souls veining and pouring into all the valleys and seams.
He could no longer still and flipped the coin he had been musing in his fingers for the entire time and he rose to his feet tossing it onto the bed and snaked his long strong arms around her lithe frame squeezing all her silent broken pieces back to life. The scent of her lovely dark tresses, and the nearness of her luminous flesh almost overtook him with thoughts of simply placing her onto the bed and doing what he longed to do but has of yet
"My beauty…" He hummed into the gentle point of her elvish ear, and the vibration of his sandy lips left her almost feeling lightheaded as she melted against his masculine frame. At first, they just stood there in silence, uttering thoughts that did not surpass their own lips. Both feel the loss of their homes and the loved ones they grew up with and regrets not being able to change the tide in some way other than seeing past their shattered lineage
Beren thought back to his youth again, but this time it was a happier time. It was when all in their village gathered in town Square and brought ornaments, pieces of broken jewelry, and glimmering things and decorated the grand tree's in brilliance to honour the season, the love they all shared to the other and welcome in Yule.
When they arrived at the inn, they had not traveled much. But he was sure the kitchen below had flour, salt and a few supplies so they could make the same ornaments from his childhood. Suddenly he was enthralled with a burst of excitement and spun Luthien around in his arms as she giggled, confused and slapped away his arms. "What are you up to, Beren?" Her voice once again chimed in that delicate voice he loved. " Your eyes are shimmering like the stars freshly placed upon the ebony canvas above! What is on your mind, my mortal love? Do tell, or I think curiosity will plague my poor brain."
He spoke to her of his childhood and the times he shared with his mother during Yule. Beren never truly spoke of her at all, and as he did, she could see his eyes begin to water as she leaned in and cupped his scruffy cheek and pressed her soft lips over his own.
When she pulled away, it was as if the hands of time swallowed the darkness all around, and they were once more the innocent children gazing at each other like a childhood crush and lost in a winter wonderland.
Moments before, a somber tone in the parlor of the tavern below erupted in the silliest of giggles and slaps upon the other's arms as Beren and Luthien made their way into the kitchen, ignoring them all.
The servants were startled, spilled into the walls, frightened, in wonderment and thought the two were mad as they fiddled with pots and pans until they found what they were looking for.
They did not want to make these in their room. Both had sense enough for this and decided they would stay in the kitchen as Beren, gazing up at Luthien curled his long fingers under the hemming belonging to a table cloth and gave it one hard tugging away! Yelping, Luthien's small hands covered her lips as items spilled carelessly over the wooden flooring below, and the staff cursed Beren with their eyes as he shrugged with a mischievous smile placed upon his lips and spoke humorously, "Oh, come on everyone! Haven't we all tried to impress and thrill our loved ones?"
As Beren and Luthien began to make their ornaments, the others gathered around as Beren explained the tradition he wanted to recreate, and each of them, even the most hardened of faces, softened and joined the two in the making and baking of varying shapes
Luthien felt as if her heart was going to explode out of her chest from the ache and love she felt at this moment as she looked at Beren with flour dotting his cheeks and an overgrown beard, and she knew, just as she knew the million other times she had fallen in love with him all over again.
She grew quiet for the next hour or more and worked on just one for a very long time, and when she was done, she wrapped it up in a cloth, not wanting Beren to see it just yet until they decorated the trees the next ev when the storm would pass on.
The snow storm had finally dissipated and as the evening shrouded the crystal blue sky, an array of apricots, magenta, and blue splashed across the mountainside. Stars began to yawn and chatter away as the villages, along with Beren and Luthien filled the time square and the sounds of laughter, giggles, and the squishing of snow wafted in the air. The young lasses spilled over the clean, crisp ivory snow, making Maia's as the boys formed snowballs and played a bout. The Inn was bumbling in happiness and the purity of the season, relinquishing any sin that belonged just moments before. Many brought baked goods, warm apple spice and hot chocolates for the smaller ones, who loved the sweet, creamy drink. Luthien just watched in wonderment as tears of joy, sadness for her loved ones welled in her eyes. It was the first time she had ever been away from home, and with so much uncertainty, fear of what was done and what was to come was peppered in her mind. But Beren, as he always seemed to know, crept up behind her and playfully gobbled her swan-like neck until she burst into a fit of giggles.
She pretended to be mad, narrowed her eyes and circled the huntsman Beren as if she were a pouncing kitten, and he were a ball of yarn and he snickered at once and tackled her into the snow right away. "Get off of me!" Her laughter chimed heavenly in the air, and some of the villagers laughed at the two young lovers, almost for the first time. Even those who still thought their relationship was forbidden couldn't deny the love these two have found.
The sun was about to set as the shadows poured low into the valley, and Beren pulled his beauty up and into his arms. "It's time, Luthien. You are the very last to put up your ornament. Take my hair, my princess." He grinned and bowed chivalrously as she carefully stepped through the ruffled piles of snow, and as they reached the front of the grand oak, she slipped her small fingers into her pockets and finally revealed to Beren what she had made.
"It's in the shape of a star, Beren." Her voice was soft, almost breaking, and she would not meet his gaze. "I made it in remembrance of the stars Varda placed, leading the elves safely and lightening their way. I have been thinking about that story for a while now. The displacement and sorrow that they must have felt. But they had each other. Through it all, they had love, and that too shines just as brightly, and I am sure it helped them find their way." Luthien paused for a moment and strummed her fingers along one piece that gleamed as if it held its own light. "And this love, "she held it up to him, is from my crown when it was ripped off my head savagely but thankfully in Doriath. When I fell to the ground, I saw it almost calling to me, and before your men could see, I grabbed it and hid it away the entire time. If you remember, each jewel that was in my crown was said to be the tears of each Valar that my Naneth gave to me the day of my coming out."
When she was done and trying to catch her breath, Beren pulled her into his arms at once, for it was the first time she had ever released her sadness before him other then the moments he heard when she slept.
"Shhh, my sweet girl. It's beautiful, a work of art, but we can not settle that star on the branches, I am afraid." He pulled away and held her shoulders still as her shimmering almond eyes spoke louder than the words that screeched out of her mouth. "No??? Why Beren? Oh, but why? Please?" He started to snicker as she interrupted in the middle of his thoughts, as she so often did: "Shhhhhhhh. "He said it again and placed his long, skilled finger over her puffy, frozen pink lips. "No beloved. You misunderstood. It will go on the tree but at the very top. It belongs there to honour the lost, fallen, or those who wandered and became lost.
Varda's star will grace our tree now and for the rest of our days. You have done well, Princess Luthien, and we all will find Our rightful way again. NOW." Beren knelt down and encouraged her up and held her ankles as she wobbled and placed the star at the top of the tree. And as she finished, he slowly, carefully slid her over his chest and caressed her tear stained cheeks as he whispered I love you and kissed her for the very first time in front of the villagers. Before that day he had acted as if she was his slave, servant and not his love or equal at all. But he no longer cared and wanted to hold her in public and what better time then Yule to do so....
Luthien's Crown- Excerpt From Her Story-
The importance of the crown itself is what fretted upon her most of all, and none of the others but the Valar and descents of such knew its true worth or the meaning of each carefully placed stone.
The silvery braiding was woven by the very fingers of Varda herself and each crystal was said to be a tear from each of the Valar as they wept seeing the children of illuvatar suffer at the evils of Melkor and the droplet that dipped in the center was the origin, making of the very first star.
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