Early summer, present days, Imladris
Earcalie looked out of the window. She could hear the notes flying from the musicians of Imladris, practicing for their summer concert. She stopped packing her clothes to listen for a while. Her uncle wrote to her again, and that meant it was time to visit. She was starting to feel restless truth to be told and yearned to be home again in the family estate, in Forlindon, even if for a short time as a summer vacation. The sound of a harp dominated against the other instruments the band was playing, and she smiled. That sound reminded her of a curious encounter from years ago, with someone she would describe as the most eccentric musician she ever met.
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Summer, on the coast of Mithlond, 150 years ago
“Hm, hm hm………”
Earcalie hummed merrily, walking along the beach. Sand, sea and the wind were the only sounds around her, that being a secluded little bay not too near, not too far from Mithlond. It was not often she had a chance to visit the elven haven, but this time she accompanied her father, escorting a family friend whom was bound for the West. That kind of goodbye was not something she was fond of, so she scampered away at the first occasion. Walking along the shoreline, she would stoop from time to time to pick up shells and listen to the echo of the waves in her ear.
“Oh this one is pretty”. She picked up a rose one, and put it to her ear. Then she blinked.
Harp notes are coming out of it???
Earcalie stared at the shell in disbelief. Two more times she tried listening to the echo of the waves, and two more times she heard music notes. What? She shook her head. That could not be……… oh.
The notes did not come from the shell of course, but from somewhere ahead of her. She dropped the trinket and started running. The notes became louder as she turned around a rocky formation as the bay curved on itself. And on the other side, there was an elleth, dressed in blue with a long winged cloak draped on her shoulders. Earcalie halted, half surprised to see somebody else and half afraid that she would stop playing. Because the music she was making was unlike any she had heard. It was not just a tune, hearing the notes was like… hearing a bird chirp. Fast successions alternated by long, drawn out notes, whirbles and trills in no particular order, like a dawn chorus of larks. And came from a very unusual looking harp.
Earcalie stood there, listening to the elleth for quite some time. From high up in the sky the sun already started its descent when curiosity finally won, and she walked to the elleth who seemed to be completely oblivious to have an audience. She glanced at the harp. It was… unique. Smaller than the ones she had seen almost all harpists use, but not small enough to be a lyre, and it looked like it was made of silver. Sparkling silver engraved all along the rim with designs of swallows and reeds.
“Is it not heavy?” She blurted out.
The elleth paused for a moment. “Hush child, she is singing". Frowning slightly at child, Earcalie looked around. There was nobody on the beach except the harpist and herself.
"She who?"
The other elleth didn't answer, instead resuming her plucking of the harp chords. The notes mingled with the sound of the sea waves and the breeze, and Earcalie finally understood. "The harp?"
The lady nodded. Earcalie tilted her head, but made no comment on that. “I thought this bay to be deserted. Who are you?”. The other elleth executed another whirl and a trill - how does she do that? Thought Earcalie - before answering:
“Nyellë”
Earcalie smiled. It was rare to hear other elves still using their names in the old tongue, those who have one. She was raised to honor her heritage, and names were one such thing. “I’m Earcalie, nice to meet you!”.
Nyellë however did not seem as thrilled. She resumed playing her bird song. “You did not answer my first question. Is that harp not heavy? I’ve never seen one made of silver before. It looks ancient”
“It is”. Seeing as she was about to ask more, Nyellë sighed. “It was gifted to me the day I was born, in a time when we were all youthful and carefree in our ignorance of this land far from the Blessed Realm”
Earcalie gasped. “You ARE ancient!”. Nyellë glared at her. “She has been singing for longer than you can imagine, and will sing for many more summers ahead”
“Sorry! But why… you keep saying it s the harp singing when you are the one named Singer?”. Nyellë didn’t answer, instead performing her whirbles and trills. It truly was as if a flock of larks was flying around them. Earcalie could not understand how in the worlds she was able to produce sounds like those. At the cost of interrupting the performance yet again and annoying Nyellë, she was about to ask “How…”
“You do not pay attention. I answered already…” She plucked the harp strings a couple times. “A musician is not such without her instrument. Yet instruments cannot play on their own. Together they make one, and Nyellë is both me and my harp. She sings for me with the voice of nature, her voice can reach places and people mine never could. Is it not true that you found me following her notes?”
Earcalie nodded. However, that cryptic speech did nothing but raise more questions in her head. “So the way you play… imitating birds is to reach someone somewhere?”
“That is it… voices lost, places erased, but not forgotten, carried on by wind and sea that know no boundaries. I hope I am heard behind a curtain of silver glass”
“I am not sure I understand…”
“You don’t have to. And probably won’t until you have lived more and the weight of living surpasses that of a silver harp”. With that, Nyellë stood up and dusted off her dress. She was very tall and picked up the harp as if it was made of the lightest wood. Nodding to her, she walked away. “Wait! What does it all mean?”
Nyellë lifted a hand as goodbye, until she turned the rocky formation and disappeared from Earcalie’s sight. She stood there, puzzled at the outcome of that strange encounter, and with a hundred and more thoughts floating in her head. It was only when the sun began to disappear on the horizon that she snapped off her daydream and remembered her father was probably waiting for her…
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“What did she mean indeed?”
Earcalie was older, but that did not help in finding a meaning to Nyellë’s words. She had a mind of passing by the Grey Havens and look for her on the way to Forlindon, in hope that she still dwelt on that side of the sea. And if she had sailed already… well, they would meet again in the Blessed Realm she so hoped to reach with the strange song of her harp.
