PART ONE: Of Unrequited Love

PART ONE: Of Unrequited Love Andriath’s hooves clatter to a halt upon the cobblestones as his mistress Tynuilos drops from her saddle with great urgency. It’s barely past dawn and the sky is already brightly lit; the trees rustle noisily in the sanctuary gardens on this windy day in Ered Luin, Manwë’s breath hastening the elf maiden’s footsteps along the winding path. She discards her weaponry in abeyance with the sanctuary’s rules of peace and reaches the ornately carved double doors just as a figure emerges to meet her. Tynuilos wears an expression of utter desperation as a broadly built, unmuscular Elven Lord clad in fine green raiment looks upon her, his voice softly sighing. “He is gone already dear sister.” Those words shatter Tynuilos, whose pounding heart is suddenly squeezed upon a single breath. Under great force she breathes again, pushing past the Elven Lord Clill, to search the sanctuary's interior, room by room, as though she requires evidence in order to believe. Running upon anxious breath, Tynuilos wails one name out loud, over and over whilst Lord Clill follows her fleeting shadow with soft footsteps, anticipating her route perhaps from the sounds she makes, her voice rebounding in the eaves of the high ceilings; her search coming full circle to end at an elagantly carved map table in the anteroom. There the distressed maiden half collapses, yet is caught by Lord Clill, who holds her gently as the tears begin to fall, one for every star in the sky. “But, I love him...” Tynuilos whimpers. “As do we all.” Lord Clill replies. “Why did he leave?” “It was his time...as your time will come also...and one day, you shall see him again. He will meet us all upon the blessed shores of Aman.” Tynuilos retrieves her discarded weapons from the lush grass of the sanctuary gardens and reties them to her belt. The dual swords hang inconspicuously at her hips, clothed in hardened leather sheaths of well worn ivy leaves, the dyed design somewhat dulled by rain and shine, yet the smooth sliver hilts of her twin swords still wink in tune with her step, under the midday sun. Time has moved quickly and in the company of Lord Clill, she crosses the wooden bridge at the end of the path and stops at the little corner house, backed quietly against the calm waters of the river Lhûn. The thunder of two waterfalls can be heard in the distance, whilst an arriving flock of birds speckle the ground with fleeting shadows before coming to roost in the surrounding trees. A “FOR SALE” sign has been pitched beside the cobblestone path and they both stare at it for a while, as though struggling to read the small print. Tynuilos lets out a weighty sigh, Lord Clill noting softly, “When we go west, we leave no trace of ourselves behind, all worldly goods are discarded and all associations put to sleep...And yet, we leave all of ourselves behind, for there is none who knew our Lord, whom can ever say they shall forget him.” Gently Lord Clill rests a hand upon the maiden’s shoulder. “We shall see him again, my Lady.” He believes utterly and Tynuilos gathers all her inner strength to smile in polite response, but it’s hard worn to last upon her lips. “He never even wrote me goodbye.” Tynuilos begins to plat her flaxen coloured hair around the side of her head, curving around the nape of her neck and coming to rest neatly over one shoulder. She fastens the ends with a broad, simple silver clip, feeling the small weight like the touch of a hand. “It was difficult for him also.” Lord Clill replies with great sensitivity. “I shall never wear my hair down again...and my heart shall never fully repair. I have become a shadow, and the night shall consume me until I am no more.” Tynuilos’ gaze meets Clill’s and he realises the meaning of her words. “I was not aware of your true feelings My Lady...” “Neither was...I said nothing; there was never the chance...or the right time.” Tynuilos ponders a moment before asserting. “There was never anything between us.” She huffs as Andriath wanders up the path to meet his mistress, who pats him on the nose and strokes his loose main with a loving hand. Nuzzling her neck in returned affection, the horse makes Tynuilos momentarily forget her woes, although much stirs beneath her unblemished complexion, yet to be made manifest. With a swift hop, the battle-maiden is once more in the saddle, sword hilts and bridle clinking in unison. Andriath is immediately restless. “What shall you do sister?” Lord Clill asks above the gusts of wind that plays mischief with his cloak. Suddenly the birds are set to flight with a clapping of flapping wings that swoop upwards, ascending into the wide clear sky to stretch and fold in a pulsing shadow that crosses the river to distant shores. “I shall break this land of its evil. I shall purge the shadow from its skin and cure its sickness. I shall not stop until all the forces of darkness have been scythe by my sword, and I shall break the bones of the enemy and pile them up, and they shall burn for a full age.” “You must be careful...it is not the job of a single elf...but the work of...” “I am far from a single elf, Lord Clill!" Tynuilos cuts his sentence short, Andriath only held from galloping away by the firm control of his mistress. "I have been diminished; I am but half of what I once was...and I shall face death before I see his face again. This I know. It is my fate.”