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THE NEPHILIM AGE
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THE VISION
From the eastern shores of the south-western banks lay the great dwarven sea port of Dimbar. It was the coastal extension of the city Khazul, which forged its wealth deep in the mountains of Jebul. Jebul was the most prominant of the hills, and towered like a fist among them, just behind the Yellow woods of Kindervall. A fishing expedition set out from Dimbar. As its dwarven crew landed near the western edge of the island Eul, they went ashore and soon discovered the Nol-Varians. Both peoples eagerly became friends, and begun a trade route of wine, foods, clothing and arms.
Three months after their first encounter, the dwarven masons wished to commemorate the reestablishment of their old aliances by fortifying the island. And in so doing they built two identical towers. The first stood on the hill in between the two encircling streams north of the Ra`Morian tree shrine. The second tower was built on the level ground before the mount, yet it was the same design, with its height even with the shorter tower. Each had two balcony embattlements, where watches could be placed. The lower tower had a great wall encompassing it round about, from edge to edge of the mount. A great checker-board tiled the floor of its courtyard, with alternating Elven stars, and Dwarven crests. Both white columns were roofed with red tiles, and spires which flew banners; the lower with the elven star, and the upper with the dwarven crest. The lower tower was called IthLan-dur, and the upper tower was called Ka'dima-dur, and were ever manned with watchers whose sole task was to stay alert.
The upper tower of Ka`dima-dur had its enterance facing the well stone. Whereas the courtyard of Kess-lun could only be entered from the lower tower of IthLan-dur. The dwarven masons had devised a secret passage from that tower to the original twisted tree. In between the two thrones of the elven king and queen was a doorway; hollowed out from the living trunk of the two trees was a spiral stair-case which led down into the heart of mount Ke`Ruel. The winding stair well opened onto a wide chamber, which in turn opened onto a northern tunnel, and again with stone stairs leading up into the tower above. The hidden chamber was divided, with the larger half being a great storehouse for the people in times of need.
Upon completion of the dwarven gift, a grand celebration was held in the courtyard to honor the renewal of their alliance; and annually thereafter were such festivals kept.
A shadowy dream, filled with torch lights, and rattling chains, awoke the king screaming in his sweat-drenched bed. Murelen had tossed about restlessly throughout the night and, now wide awake, could not go back to sleep. His bed chamber, within the great house of Ra`More's entangled branches, was darkened, except for the faint ember glow of the open doorway across the room. Downstairs the sacred lamps continued to burn; they had been trimmed, as usual, before dusk. He sat up, unable to shake off the dark mood that still lingered in his thoughts. He dressed himself, then quietly went downstairs, through the hollowing of the mighty tree. He always marvelled at how the steps were formed from the living bark of the great twisted tree, and how they spiralled down to the open doorway at ground level. The walk would do him good, but how the feeling of that vivid dream stayed with him.
Pacing about the three eternally-lit lamp-post, he desperately tried to recall the features of the dream in order to find some kind of meaning. Then he sat on his throne watching the flames dance their shadows upon the trunked walls of that sacred chamber. For a long time he sat there deep in thought. Before him, he stared into the glowing coals of the Altar. Standing, he approached the pillar, and sprinkled a handful of ash and incense over the coals, then stepped back, and took his seat again. After a moment, the coals glowed brighter. The room began to take on a growing light as if the dawn had entered. Suddenly, a thick smoke arose in whispered forms. Within the smoke, the widening eyes of the King saw the form of a person. In and out of the fading smoke, a cloaked figure could be seen. Hands appeared to pull back a hood to reveal an elven face which spoke whispered words:
"There remains voices still crying in the dark,
awaiting to praise the beauty of the light;
there they are bound to the hardships of slavery,
awaiting freedom's chance to sing aloud.
From those carved chambers, repainted in blood,
my feet once walked their beloved halls;
from noble palace to fallen realm have
my eyes beheld both of her faces.
Where dwarven fathers and elf lords were united
now there is raised the stench of hatred's rebellion;
where the forgotten lived among the silent children of Eru,
now walk the fallen amid the gloom.
From the pit of discouragement you must
reclaim a remnant to be counted here;
from this you shall be remembered as one who did
reclaim his lost children from the flames.
Know too that the day is coming when
all done here will be forgotten as a dream;
know also that the lesser children will be saved, and
all this plight will be washed away.
Not everything that is hailed as mighty is made
by hand, but only deeds done from the heart;
Not battles, nor towers fair, but love
by true hands shall you be remembered."
As the smoke dissipated from the room, Murelen realized the shadowy figure as himself - the light dimmed again. No longer shaken by the vision, the King sat up straight on his throne with a new-found confidence. He called out to the guards, who were ever on watch at both enterances of the hall, and summonsed the Council members to meet immediately. Within the hour, they had entered one by one, and took their seats. It was not even daybreak as the king, very much wide awake, eagerly told them of his dream and the smoke filled vision.
"Assemble here this morning such volunteers from your Houses who wish to follow their king on a desperate errand. Make them aware the cost is grave; for a rescue of those we will, must be deemed a worthy goal this hour. To Mount Ipstha we ride with haste."
"Lord, is this folly to march off to such an end?" Ro`Nath asked.
"Would you that it was you that had been left behind? My friend; we must at least attempt this folly," he somberly replied, with a reassuring smile of hope.
As the Tribal leaders left as instructed, the king pulled Feandar aside.
"I wish you to stay behind to comfort the queen, for I think she fancies you, my Bereith." Then the King encouraged his scribe with a firm hand-grip to his right shoulder, and gave a reassurring smile that his return would be victorious.
...............
> The king returns to Ipstha
by way of the Deadwood Forest. . . .
.........../ /.............
The Captain of the guards, Fin`Omir, enteres the blackened forest of Norwood; it was once a lively greenery, but had become overgrown with thick vines, and its trees creeked and appeared to move on their own. Only a single pathway way was left undestrubed.
Fin`Omir: Blessed be the Great Mother! The 'Spring of Trees' has become a dead wood; for all the trees are carved with grim faces. Steady now, MiLord, a foul mood permeates the air, sire."
VOICE: Wary! Mind your steps!!
Fin`Omir: Who calls?
Darkroot/ Dir`Malon: "I am Darkroot, once called Dir`Malon." ........../ description /..............
"I remember falling, as a sharp pain hit my back, and a shaft peirced my chest. I knew I wanted to live, but the pain was so overwhelming. The corridor in which I was running through spun about, then everything went black. When I awoke I saw the woods in which I now stand. We are the DeadWood, of the old forest. Beware, for our anger runs deep. Great is our dispare, and black our bitterness against those who slew us, - and against those who do not avenge us.
Fin`Omir: There are more of you?
Redwood/ Ishyn`Dol: Yes, we are all here; our true selves encased within bark, well rooted, as we reach for the stars of night.
Twistedknee/ Ro`Near: We are The Slain; and are all that remain of that United Kingdom, now repainted in blood.
Darkroot/ Dir`Malon: Until our slaughter is avenged, we remain as you see us now; wicked in our bitterness to strangle those who come beneath our branches. Darker than we, are those dwarven kin; for though they do not speak as we, the roots of their wrath is far greater.
Fin`Omir: I weep for the state you are in now.
Redwood/ Ishyn`Dol: Weep not for us, but for yourselves if you pass this way again, and we are not avenged.
............./ /..............
THE Elf King's party entered the western enternce of Mount Ipstha's once dwarven realm; now scattered with the remains of her proud guards rotting in disrepect. . .
> The elf king - Murelen`Fae - is killed
> The dwarf king - Dwalen'dane - is killed
> A few retreat with 12 surrivors. . . ======================================
The captain of the guard, Fen`Omir, approached Ithel`Fae, his voice quivering. "My Lord, your father was felled by Calan outside the walls of Ipstha. His crown, sire." He handed the silver circlet to him, then took a step back, knelt, and bowed his head.
Ithel`Fae accepted the circlet of his father, though solemly, "Woe befalls all those who have heard these words, for our days are now numbered." He then passed it to his mother. As she stood, those gathered went to their knees, and reverently watched as El`Anor gently placed the crown on her son's head, then she too bowed her head, and knelt before the new king.
"May our joy be found in the happiness of others, for what better reason is there for life than that. Arise, for a new chapter soon begins."
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King Ithel`Fae took Wyno`Mel to be his queen; she was the daughter of Bro`Mel who married Nol`Linda, the only daughter of Nol`Breth; the fallen Watcher who first dissented from the Valithdane, and was asassinated by Gala`dir.
NEXT: CHAPTER NINE http://www.freewebs.com/neph_c/ch9.htm
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