[ This blog post is private ]

11/20/2023 05:41 PM  LuthienBeren-Lineage   THE CEREMONY In 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's Chapter Two- The Village Chapter 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"     0 Comments  Report Post

11/12/2023 11:48 PM  LordBeren-Haunted Dawn had barely broken over the horizon as the shadows hung like a loose black cloak, pouring downward into the woven valleys below. As the faint sound of an eagle's caw cried out, gliding in and out of the mist. Their room was warm and simmered in a crackling fire, Beren fed every few hours now as Autumn lad her gentle hand into the upcoming winter just like a faithful bride. Every season had a purpose and task.  From Summer, spring, into the cooling embrace of fall. Just as the season's in one's life served. Yavanna intricate threading held lessons for us all. Autumn was coming to its end, a storybook flickering on its last page. Jewel coloured crisp leaves, like a quilt, tucked away the rich birthing soil before winter could lay its brisk fingers along the lands. Tinuviel was always sensitive to the cold, as most of her kind were. In the winter months, elvens mostly stayed in their homes, sipping herbal teas collected in the summer and spring months.  It was a time of reflection from fall and deepening roots come winter. In spring, they emerged once more, churning the soil for new growth to rise up once again. She curled her slender leg over Beren's furry one, humming as his long slick strands played upon her succulent flesh, sweeter than any flute player could weave a song. As she laid lost in her thoughts, not entirely ready to open her sleepy eyes, she shivered slightly as she heard groaning, whimpers slip past Beren's lips, almost like a boyish cry. Her violet eyes fluttered open at once and could see he was still fast asleep, but tears etched the edges of his eyes, and she knew he must be dreaming, haunted by memories. Her mother had told her stories of her father too, who would suffer in his sleeping hours when Tinuviel would  hear the clattering of pots, glasses clinking in the darkness of night and awaken to her mother fingering through her herbs and carefully sprinkling them into a sachet. She always with a warm smile as if rose honey spread across her petal lips, would tell her young daughter to sit upon the bench for the spirits of their ancestors must have awakened her knowing she would need this lesson when she to find a man such as her father with a warrior's heart that sometimes became haunted. She explained to her daughter that the world was not always as it seemed and held her daughter's wide eyes fawning gaze, knowing Tinuviel already knew this for she was part Maia and could see past the veil, unlike her father whom would only brush along the etches as spirits clung to his life force when he returned home from a battle.  "'Tis a warrior's  burden, Luthien. For the lives they sometimes must take and the one's that are lost. The misty lands hold many secrets and spirits linger between the shadow of the trees. But only emerge under a silken onyx canvas while the ancestor's shimmering starry eyes guide them to a soul who could bear their last cries, words they never said before they passed suddenly. Your father is a strong man, and he is placed with this task at times. Although he does not always know. Or hear them clearly, he feels their presence as they weigh upon him in the night. With this sachet I place it under his pillow to expel the voices from within and then, in our sindarin tongue, I bless him with the placing of my lips." As Tinuviel continued to hear Beren's broken whimpers and cries, she slipped out of bed and prepared the very same sachet as her mother did long ago, then slipped it under his pillow and sat over him with her tiny legs tucked under her thighs. He must have felt her eyes watching over him or perhaps the loss of her curvy body at his side as he slid her large hand over her soft leg and spoke her name, which made her smile. "My dearest mortal. You are troubled and aren't fully aware. Hold no question with my words or sweet caresses, helping you to release which is not yours to bear." With her dainty hands she cupped the curvature of his cheeks and sighed lovingly as to her, it encompassed the heart of the forest newly sprouted thin branches upon his face. Tinuviel closed her eyes and quietly called upon the Valar for blessings as Beren drifted back into slumber and leaned over him, placing her satin lips to his forehead and spoke in her native tongue. "Release his mind and unbind his thoughts, by all of Valar you have no place in this mortal's heart."   When she felt his mind lax she swept her lips to his lips but first kissed each side of his cheeks not for the purpose of the ritual but because her own heart ached when he was in pain. Moulding her lips to his bottom tier only, she kissed him in the  most loving, tender of ways, asking the Valar to seal their words and bring her love peace as she moved to his top one, then moulded her small lips over his sealing her prayers. When she was through, she slipped her curvy frame back under the sheets, rubbing her tiny splayed fingers over his bare hairy chest that still held such wonder and intrigue. Her reminded her so much of her father, although a mortal man. His heart, loyalty was devoted and wise, and he protected the less fortunate just as Thingol had. Both were great leaders who did not speak often, but when they had, it was profound.  And many of the man followed them both into battle, often without question, trusting their judgement even over their very own.  She hoped when they finally met that it would be this her father would see in her Beren and not the misdeeds feed by a thousand lineages misguided lies and thoughts to cast away her kin in his younger days. Hatred is a virus that only spreads when one feeds it with ignorance and misunderstandings.  Tinuviel knew if it was not stopped it would poison all of Middle Earth, and it would not be the orcs they all feared causing the end. Today marked three months since the burning of her home and the following days of the camp. She would hold a ceremony, vigarel and hoped the villagers would find it in their hearts to join her in honouring the loss of her own as well as theirs. Mayhap in doing so, love could bloom in the hate that bore and healing, a new age could emerge, even in starting small it would spread and blossom in the hearts of all.   0 Comments  Report Post

11/06/2023 12:16 PM  BerenLuthienThe Raid Beren: As soon as the sun lifted above the horizon, the men of Dorthonion began to burn the forests, determined to level the Elven land before the orc armies arrived. Rumor has it that orc armies capture the elves as well and through their dark magic, bury them into the cursed earth of mount doom only to have them re-birthed from the soil as foul orcs by the millions. All orcs were elves once. The strongest of the orcs were the men. None of the men would be spared in this forest and all the females would be captured, taken, sold as love slaves in villages of men to ensure the Elven race would be blended out to ultimately prevent the reproduction or creation of horrid orc armies. A man born of half Elven blood will not create nearly a strong of an orc than a full blooded Elven would. The out breeding of a race has been a way to control races for centuries, even in realms such as Middle Earth, thus all the elves were in grave danger. Though the goal was in good faith, the army Beren was apart of was not kind to the elves and it was supposedly for good reason. They viewed the elves as weak to be able to be subjected to such evil magic, but in truth the elves were very intelligent, agile, graceful fighters but unlike the men and orcs, they did have mercy. The thousands of arrows the men descended upon the elven lands were lit on fire, piercing the emerald woods. Elven warriors defended their turf but when at a stand off one on one with the men, they made the mistake of attempting to negotiate where the men simply put them to death. This carnage and bloodshed went on for hours, decimating the forests, creating miles of scorched land, blazing trees, and piles of dead elven soldiers. It would be soon that only the women elves would be forced to take up the role of warriors. They were now fighting back, sending arrows from hidden places, trying to slow the burn of their peaceful kingdom, however at this point, the men were given over to the sins of the flesh. Their senses were already heightened from combat, and as they chopped the trees down, many of the unlucky female elven archers that would be seized.                                          Though the elven archers were extremely skilled, their lithe frames were no match against the men. The mortals couldn’t be satisfied with only the capture of these females. Their garments would be stripped from their bodies and many hurled to the ground to quench the men’s insatiable lusts without mercy, without a kind touch and without a thought that the females too were living beings who felt pain. It was at this point, the men did not care. The women were savagely conquered and caged in the many gated wagons to be taken away to be sold in the lands of men both near and far to complete the ultimate purpose of saving middle earth from the species of orc.                                                    Taking of the Elven Princess Beren- The men had indeed become savages. Once well-to-do noble men with purpose and dreams had turn into demon possessed blood hungry savages in mere moments of the raid, not hesitating to cut off the heads of the elven warriors, tossing them in clusters with spiteful satisfaction. A wry voice from the trees sounded off. Causing a stream of deadly arrows to rain down from the branches, wounding some of the men but not many as they held their shields above them. This both angered and set off an even more dangerous onslaught upon the elven kingdom that none had anticipated. "LAY WASTE TO THE TREES!!!" One by one, with fists clenched upon the double saw blades, each tree was brought down, spilling out from its branches, elven maidens who were archers. Upon hitting the ground, the wind was knocked from their lungs, leaving them helpless for a brief moment. This moment was all that was needed for the men to capture them. Among those who had fallen from the trees was the princess Tinuviel clad in her woodland attire. Thankfully, of the several fallen, the princess did not sustain injury but of the several that had, many injured their limbs but the men didn't care. They were grabbed up, some by their injured limbs and others by their hair, causing much pain. They were not gentle with the handling of the women and didn't intend to be. It was during this capture that Tinuviel was hoisted up by her hair and slammed against a tree by a large man and the greed of the fool that took her snatched her elven crown from her head so hard, it left a cut on her forehead. A blessing in disguise, for had they known of her lineage and importance, her fate would have been sealed. The door to the open cage thudded shut, after he had tossed her into it with the other females and to her horror, the man began to squeeze the gems from the crown only to pocket them. His own greed outweighed his lust, but the other females were not so lucky. Suddenly, one of Tinuviel's hand maidens who had already been violated began to sob, but not for herself, for her princess, for the elven crown was a sacred symbolic item, given to them by the grace of the fallen stars themselves. Tinuviel had covered her mouth quickly, telling her "Shh... be still, let him have the gems." Their very lives were at stake. Yestereve in the fading twilight Beren was troubled. Already knowing of what was to come as they descended upon Doriath and who dwelled there. He had no fear of the elves, but what he did fear... He gazed at his hand, at the healed scar. A token of his empty infatuation with a woman he had never truly known. A beautiful elven woman, who's voice should send ships baring into the unknown sea. A woman who would have doubtlessly proven to be his damnation as well as his deliverance. Tirelessly, he clenched his palm shut trying hard to remove the vision of her from their one meeting in these forests. Beren the Renowned, son of Barahir of the House of Beor was summoned awake the day of the raid and led the men to charge. His men were more blood hungry than he, and he encouraged them to move forward. His commander Lord Austyn, with a crooked brow announced he would be gathering the females, it was in this vain hope he thought of that woman again. The one he found dancing. Lord Austyn snapped his fingers and waved his hand in front of Beren. "Are you here Man!? Stay alive!!" Then he told Beren to fend off the new elven soldiers threatening to enter the woods from other forest realms that would come to save the captives. In this mission, he wouldn't be there when Tinuviel was captured, for had he been, she would have never been subjected to such treatment. Beren's army out flanked King Thingol's reinforcements, cutting them off at the river's edge, for the current was sluggish, favoring the men. If the water was high, the elves could call forth a tidal wave to wash the men aside. The culmination of the elven army proved to be their downfall as Beren and his men, with large javelins jousted the lithe elven army along the banks, all their laughing sounded like sparked devilment as this attack became an obsession of victory. They would return to their company in the middle of the burning woods in whoop of triumph and many of the men were already anticipating choosing an elven lass to satisfy their needs, their questing pursuits made that no secret. Tinuviel: Unbeknownst to Beren, the other men had already gathered the other maidens, hand tied and bound, tossing them like cattle into the wagons and cages they had brought for the warriors and slaves they would gather long the way. But now, would be used for more sinister of purposes. Secrets that men such as themselves carried along the paths of their journeys and kept death clad tight and held to their very graves.          All the woven maidens kept locked in a cage , bare exposed for hungry eyes and lusty gazes…          Day of the Raid & Taking -Tinuviel's vision's                 It was just before dawn and the spirits, ancestors of the earth gathered and held the elven in a cloaked drifting haze, a ribbon in a deep azure bleeding sky. It was in the previous night that her father caught word of a mortal army, a group of deranged bloodthirsty men were pillaging, and burning down the livelihoods of their own kind and to spite many negotiations, words shared among the two, no resolve could come to be. He was a king, a might well respected one at that. He had seen many battles and garnet fields scattered with many lives. That of his own as well as his enemy. He had mourned them all. Through hatred or not, he always respected that of which a warrior's heart, for he felt no blood ran as deep and blue as such. May centuries of spun lies, and deceit among the others kind passed through generations and generations of kin had caused a hate, angry that no one could tell where it truly begins or even ends. It veined through the mountain tops and poured into each and every valley and village below, and in truth sickened the king. Although he did hold to his own prejudice, his own views on such species. The mortals being of no exception. But it wasn't their stories, he felt their true hate laid. It was in the heart of envy, not understandings the values and gifts his kind held. Yes. The rumors were true. Elven blood used for corruption and form a powerful blackened Orc. But, as many men do, they have forgotten the original truth spoken. Their blood. It was magical and, for many reasons, it held, carried through each and every child of his kind. They were the gifted. The ones that honoured and called to the ancestral earth, Gods all around them and gave due and many respects to their original mother. That of the earth, tree's, streams and even fire. It all entwined and blend in the veins of the incandescent elvens. Tinuviel was told to gather all the women and children and to seek higher grounds as the King could already see the ebony blanket, sounds of thunderous marching and the gleam of an evil man's eyes crawling like a virus over the hills leading to their lush lands. She loved her father, and not because he was such. She loved him for his spirit, eyes, and honorable heart. The one she thought she saw in the mortal she would come to know only a few days before as Beren.    It was a chance encounter and one she thought was heavenly bound sent for she never felt or kept to a man, moral or elven in such a way, in all of the days her heart beat and fledged to her soul. It was the first time in her young elven life she would question the tattered hands of her ancestors and guides and perhaps even the pulsing of her own heart that she followed like a fine-tuned night gale's song. But now, as she followed her father's distant gaze, she could see the men, seeping over from a cauldron tampered edge leading into the harming of her people, her loved ones and he sacred kept lands. Guilt, anger flurried her very mind as she shook her head frantically trying to chase away the thoughts, the feel of their loving braiding fingers, clasped hands and the way his lips felt pressed to her own. Like the bark of a sacred tree, rough and full of lifelines, tell-tale signs of all he witnessed and be. How could she have been so wrong, so deceived. But as he father caught the damning words of the night before, it was told the great Beren was among the many young fighters that would come. Her heart sank, he knees grew weak, and she toppled to the ground beyond her father's view and cried as she never cried before, feeling the crackling of her heart under her bearing elven breast. Turning to her hand maid she barked, yelled in an unlike voice, startling the older lass as coiled back seeing the dark rising of velvety silk in the young princesses eyes, "Help me gather! We shall retreat to the tree's high along the upper branches and curl our frames among the leaves!" As the last one elven was gathered, their cries and whimpers sounding as if a million of injured doves, chimed like falling stars, teardrops splattered along their sacred emerald fields. Tinuviels limbs were normal agile, and held well to her docile frame. But with weary, dread and sadness plummeting in her elven heart, she found herself wobbly, clumsy even as she climbed the very last branch along the overlooking her lands below, clipping her ankle upon the edge causing a sharp burning pain to whimper curl over her heart shaped lips. Her heart filled heavily like a tipsy chalice poured in a river of her unsung dreams and still, even now, felt the wight of the young man's eyes, pivoting coursing through her own as she gazed upon the horizon wishing hoping to cast him out in a thousand of hungry glowing eyes that she could clearly see, feel as the air swirled around and crackled like a dragons tails across the hushed fields where wildflowers grew. But even they furled and kept to their protective buddings, awaiting the on slaughter brimming in the air. Suddenly, the earth fell quiet, almost as if cloaked in an internal hum, and the first crimson star shot from the distance, piercing the heart of their sacred lands. Screams, shouting, caroled out at once as Tinuviel laid with fright clinging with curled fingers around the thin bark of the branch she held too. A furry of man scattered and descended on her elven kin as blood-curdling cries, grunts and the clanging of swords echoed in the young lasses mind and the bravery, anger even she felt moments ago drifted off of her every seam as she slapped her small hands, fingers along her curved elven ears trying to muffle escape the sounds spiraling from below and strangling her gentle heart. "No," she whimpered, sensing the heart, hands of the young Beren somewhere beneath her, and she swore she could hear his baritone voice over the many bark out forwarding orders upon her very people. Tears swelled, spilled over her violet eyes bleeding in sheer reds and swept across her ivory cheeks. She closed them at once, her fringed curled lashes burying in the seams as her fist tightened, seeped in rage. A rage, she had never known, felt as she gazed down and could see the many scattered bodies of the men below. Elven, mortals alike blending and bleeding as they never would with one life's given breath and could hear the retreating, toppled footings of the men as a whistle sounded in the distance, and she knew she must take force, take heed and reached around her slender back pulling the bow from its entrapping. And aiming towards a soldier below. Its clipped, pulled, stretched as she narrowed her lips, eyes in pristine precision piercing the very heart of the man below and cried out for not only his soul but for her very own. Her father had trained her from a very young age, against the ancestor's wishes and the eyes of the other men in his retrieve. But he was king and did as he wished and wanted young Tinuviel to always have the upper advantage, the hand of a marksman and the heart of her giving, loving mother, for he felt this too was a value all women elven's should have. To protect their weak, children, if the men were not near. The flames flickered high all around them as looming smoke rose over even the wise tallest of mountaintops, and she swore she could hear their angelic cries echoing over every stream and through the branches from high above. It was now day break and although the morning star rose hours before, she huddled in the ivory smoke, covering shielding even her own golden eyes, unable to face the bloodshed from below. The mortals, now fully aware of the elven lasses in the tree's above, took every dagger, sword and began to cut chisel down every tree branch they could and for those they couldn't, they set fire to the very limbs. She could barely dare the visions, thoughts and screams of the many as they fell like helpless snowflakes pouring on the slick blades below. Men with garnet held in their eyes folded over them, tearing ripping away their garments and savagely suckling on their creamy flesh, and splayed legs as children and remaining of shackled men cried helplessly in the distance. Lost in the visions, the horror playing out before her, Tinuviel barely registered a pull, tug as she too fell spilled over the sharp bladed of grass but leaped up to her feet at once like a frightened doe-deer caught in a hunter's snarl. Her teeth grinded and her precious pink lips thinned as she reached for another bow, but felt the coiling of long fingers hands buckle her back and slam her into the bark of a tree as the grizzly mortal circled around her and hoisted her upwards. Her toes, small feet dangled as she cried and begged for her pleading life, fear, pain drizzling over her very breath as he tore the crown. Her mothers from her long dark tresses and tossed it to the side. His voice flickered higher, darker than the ones held in the distance, as his tongue lashed out wickedly. "You want to shoot your little sticks at the men, do ya, lass?" -snickering- "Well, I have a stick then for you." As he inched towards her, his sickening scent, coiling of his lips caused her to retract, scream and another man just as big, brawny as him placed his large hands on the man's shoulder. "No time for that! Throw the lass in with the others! You shall get to the good tidings of that one later," His eyes, mouth just as evil as the other as his fingers snaked around her pinched waist and tossed her among her sisters, the children that remained. In the shadows of the care, she could see the docile eyes of her hand maiden with tear - stained eyes gleaming and beckoning to her. At once, she fell, melted into her maidens hands as the two clutched huddled together watching the men finish the desecration of their lands and pick apart her sacred elven crown. Her maiden cried bleed from her swelled ruby lips, as Tinuviel caught her chin with her trembled thumb, trying to brave her gaze as she too, felt the dagger of such an act pierce her gentle heart." Shhh, we must be brave and not fret. Just as the King has said, and nature will take care, take heed of this grueling act." They curled into each other's arms like drifting cast away stars as the carriage, rocked, ripped over hills, lower valleys and faded into the descending of night.     The ebony of night and silken pallet normally held to dreams fell heavily on the little elven amidst the bars and chains as the rattles, the snaring of the men and rumbling of the carriage on the dart road seemed to be as pebbles placed on the delicacy of her tender curved shoulders and pivoted longing heart. But even with all the darkness, dying of the day, it was his eyes she could see. Like a distant beacon pristine, gleaming in a silvery ray over a perfect stream of blackened satin, he called to her. Two pools just as haunted and swept away, lost as she teared and mapped to where his heart would lead. Perhaps naive, or too lost and drunk already by his love she knew, she felt the gravity of the brutal scene that plagued her sun-drenched heart would also upon his very own. He had known days before it would be her home, her lands that would be raided and to spite the reality or the stolen moment met she knew he was just as taken, in love with her as she. She could see it in his wild eyes as they looked upon hers as lands he only dreamed. "Oh my noble Beren," she whimpered, almost cried out, but somehow managed to hush away and perch her petal lips holding to his very name as a sacred wish, as she clung held to her hand maiden slunk and to rest upon her.                                0 Comments  Report Post

[ This blog post is private ]

[ This blog post is private ]

[ This blog post is private ]

[ This blog post is private ]

10/28/2023 01:52 PM  Luthien&Thingol-HerLove Luthien's Love For Her Father- Unwavering Her father often spoke to her when she was a mere child, long before Beren. Of the stars, constellations and their deeper guiding meanings. He said they were not just sugary breaths, glinting in the onyx canvas above, but the eyes of the Valar all watching the inhabitants below. Often guiding a broken warrior, or wander home who strayed too far. Other times they would serve as a place to speak of our secrets and wisp filled hopes when we needed the lithe spirit to fill our own. In these moments, he would gaze down upon his lovely daughter, love emulating in his soft gentle eyes, A visage of a life well lived, seeing many chapters, souls, but this look was only for his daughter and lovely wife. He knew from the time his daughter was born she would soar along Manwe's eagles to other lands and shores. Her vanguard heart stemmed from his own and her mother's bravery in her bones. She was a braiding of the two. A perfect kaleidoscope of the best of all they were. He taught her the mapping of the stars with this sole purpose, so she could compass her way back to him if she ever traveled too far. Luthien loved her Papa very much and cherished these quiet moments with him and often fell asleep in his arms. There was not another man, elven or otherwise, until Lord Beren that would claim her heart, or she would hold to the equivalency of her father's guiding soul. 0 Comments  Report Post

[ This blog post is private ]

Previous12345Next

Back to Posts