Quendilindalë (The Song of the Elves) [Tolkien Elf FanFic - Age of the Stars]

Awakening Sleeping Giants

The new elves were numerous and swelled Enel's ranks, although they were a strange group -- much slower to learn the language than Tindómiel's group. Tata, expecting a child, and Enel, satisfied with the size of his group wanted to settle in the valley close to the water. Imin awaited what he believed to be the largest group of awakened Quendi that had yet to be called and did not want to build permanent shelter.

The Minyar removed a short distance from the valley, closer to the forest. The ranks of the Tatyar and Nelyar filled the valley to the lake shore with wooden houses harvested from the forest. Tindómiel and Lómion built a small dwelling on the southern outskirts of the settlement on the lake shore. This allowed her to be close to the forest for herb gathering, and reminded them both of their first shelters overlooking the starlit lake.

Tindómiel's calling as a healer became quickly known, and her skills unparalleled. However, these were days of joy, and there was not much sickness or injury. She spent much of her time in midwifery and healing the scrapes and bumps of the plentiful children who ran around their settlement. Tindómiel had not yet been given a child, but she was not looking for one. She deemed the time unripe, and the lessening of the inya faer after birth worried her.

Lómion filled his time learning something called Sarati from Rúmil, one of the other Tanyar. Rúmil had invented these symbols to be able to record knowledge. Lómion was intrigued by this idea of recording lore for others to learn. He has already written his firelore to share, and quizzed Tindómiel about her herblore to further practice his writing.

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Tindómiel took him amongst the trees to speak with them when she was not needed at the settlement. Lómion was not as sensitive to the music as she was, but as they worked the trees began to develop their own voices and soon he could hear them as well.

"This is amazing, melissë, what you have done! I did not think to ever speak to those with no mouths." Lómion stroked the smooth bark of a beech, it shivered and groaned at his touch.

"They have much wisdom, the trees have been here since the beginning and they have not been blind. It is they who have taught me herblore." Tindómiel paused, as she heard a rustling behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, "It cannot be!" There stood Treebeard, directly behind her, but they were many days walk from where he was first discovered. She placed her hand on his coarse bark, under a large clump of twiggy moss, reaching out with her music.

What happened next, she did not expect. Slowly, a rift in the bark formed right before her eyes, and she was looking into a glassy amber pool. She gasped and stumbled backwards, falling onto the loamy ground. Lómion ran to his wife, "Whatever is the matter, love? I do not know you to be anything but sure footed." How did he not see? As he held out his hand to help her from the ground, she could see the tree begin to turn toward them. This could not be happening. Another glassy pool opened within the trunk. She gaped and began crawling backward through the musty leaves on the forest floor. "What is it you fear? I do not see anything amiss."

She screamed. The piercing sound set a flock of birds flying from the trees, and Lómion felt a tickle on his shoulder; almost as if an insect had crawled underneath his tunic. He reached back to knock it away while staring at his wife -- surely she wasn't scared of insects, she was in the forest all the time -- but he felt not the slick carapace of a beetle or the knobby legs of a spider. He felt a twig, probably knocked loose by the birds taking flight for he did not stand close to a tree. Tindómiel watched in abject horror as the twig  was joined by others and closed around his shoulder in a vice-like grip. His eyes grew huge, finally realizing his danger. "Lómion!" she screamed again as he was lifted into the air by the tree.

The trees began rustling furiously, seemingly in response to Tindómiel's distress. Treebeard seemed to heed them and he set Lómion down beside her, and bent nearly imperceptively at what would be his waist. A deep, rumbling voice came from the creature which she was no longer sure could be called a tree, speaking perfect, albeit slow Quenya, "Ah! My Lady! I thought not that I would see you here. We met many strides away, but I am glad of this meeting for you cured me of my dumbness and I have been hoping to somehow thank you. I am very sorry if I alarmed you or your companion."

Tindómiel laughed with great mirth as Lómion stared on in horror. "Well Treebeard, I see that I was mistaken and you are no tree, for I have spoken with many and none yet have opened their eyes nor moved their roots. What type of creature do you call yourself?"

"I think that you would call my kind Ornetur. I am master of these trees which you speak to, and some in the darkest parts of the forest to whom it is too dangerous for you to speak. For not all trees are gentle, some have black hearts and depise those who go about on two legs. None of the trees are overly fond of your kin who live near the wood. They often fell trees to craft, and although I understand the need and allow it, the trees do not."

Both Quendi suddenly felt terrible about their wooden house on the lakeshore. Though she had long spoken with them, Tindomiel did not think about the trees' sacrifice for fires and housing. She, however, was wise enough to realize they should not mention their choice of building materials. "I am sorry, Treebeard. I will talk to Father Tata and see that he shares the sorrow of the trees with the MInyar, our kin who live nearest the forest. At very least, the Quendi could ask the trees if they are willing to sacrifice and not indescriminately fell them."

"That should please them," Treebeard focused his amber eyes on Tindómiel, she noticed that there were flecks of green within them causing them to look bright on the surface as well as deep with the passing of time, being caught in his gaze was like looking upon Lake Cuivénen, unfathomly deep with the pinpricks of light of the stars dancing on its surface. "You are wise, young one. The forest values your friendship. I need to make many more strides and must depart. I go to wake the rest of my kin. I hope that we meet again. Namarië!"

"Namarië, Treebeard! I am pleased to have met a dear friend today. Let the stars shine upon your face until next we meet!" Lómion's arm wrapped around her waist as she raised her hand in farewell, he mirroring her action.

He leaned down slightly to whisper in her delicate ear, "Have I told you how incredible you are yet, my love? I cannot wait to write of this with Rúmil once we return! I am sure that discovering another kind capable of speech is very important."

Chills ran down her spine as his soft, warm breath tickled her ear. "Well be that as it may, please don't leave your side of the bed cold for too long. You have been very enrapt with your studies and my lips yearn for yours once again."

Lómion pulled her into a tight embrace and looked deeply into her sparkling blue eyes, "Let them not yearn, my love." He pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss, causing a sigh to escape her lips. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he cradled her face in his long, gentle fingers. A slow burn ignited within her faer and she grabbed a fist full of Lómion's raven hair, pulling him tighter and deepening the kiss. The ferocity of her desire, made him gasp against her beseeching lips. He pulled away slightly as her fingers began deftly unlacing his silvery blue tunic. "Oh, Rúmil can wait! Quickly before I lose all sense of propriety!" He grabbed her hand busy at his tunic and began sprinting toward their house.

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Quenya:

melissë: my love

Ornetur: Master of trees