(( For those of you who reads Arangilas story, and I am very honoured and glad to see there are some that do – I would just make you all aware that the story continues directly from the last part written. So if you are a new reader, you will have to read at least the last part before the one you now read to understand where this one starts… ;) Hope you all enjoy the rest as it follows. I also want to remark that I do try to keep Sindarin language as correct as possible. But faults can be made, and if any of you readers discover any, please write to me to tell me. After all… Elven is not my native language… nor is English… hehehe :P))
Part 6#
Arangilas falls… he falls deeper and deeper into something that seems like a huge, dark, rocky and damp well…
There is something that looks like roots from trees all around the cylindrical walls, spiralling in and out of each other and into the cracks between the roughly cut stones…
He can see no end to this tunnel as he falls faster and faster… almost feeling his body stretch from the drag of gravity…
Strangely he feels calm… as if this has happened before… as if he knows it will end well…
But he cannot recall that this has happened to him earlier…
Suddenly he reaches what seems to be the end of the tunnel… And all he can see – or rather sense is fog… just common fog… He cannot even see the tip of his fingers…
He’s still falling… but now more like slowly floating towards some unknown abyss…
He fights off the urge to start panicking… he works hard to not hyperventilate…
Like with the flick of a switch the fog is gone… and he falls faster again… now towards something that seems like total darkness…
No! There!!… it look almost like a small mirror… It’s hard to measure the distance from the darkness surrounding him… There is some kind of reflection in it… Small, white lights that seem all to familiar. He can see it grow as he falls even faster, tumbling down towards what feels like his final doom… suddenly he understands…
He’s falling towards a lake!!
He turns his head to discover the moon at his back…
Suddenly he sees a small orange-like dot… just by something that now seems like a forest surrounding the lake…
It flickers…
A campfire!
And it seems like it is the final destination from his decent…
He starts to scream as the ground grows and comes at him - just like the flat side of a hammer about to hit its target with full force…
He covers his head with his arms as the campfire comes nearer and nearer. Though he totally understands the irrationality behind this action, and that it will not have any affect when he hits the ground…
He closes his eyes, and thinks; So… this is it! - As he truly believes he is about to join his ancestors…
Suddenly all is quiet…
He dares not open his eyes…
There is no sound…
No wait… The crackle from the campfire…
He dares to open one eye…
Then the other…
It’s all blurry, though he can see the contours of the flames – dancing calmly in front of him…
It’s all so familiar…
Then he sees him…
Crouched down on the other side of the flames…
He would recognize the body features anywhere…
But as the shadowy figure on the other side lifts his face to look at Arangilas, it no longer leaves no doubt who it is…
“Adar?”
(Adar = Sindarin for: father)
Arangilas almost whispers it, almost like he cannot believe he dares to utter the word…
A smile grows on the face opposite him.
“Iôn vell… it is good to see you…”
(Iôn vell = Sindarin for: Beloved Son)
Arangilas’ eyes are open wide and he can almost feel his chin fall to the ground.
“But… but… it is impossible… You…”
Arangilas swallows
“You are dead…!?”
Arangilas looks at his surroundings, not quite sure what to make of the situation or where he is… still baffled by how he got there…
“Am I dead?”
Eldonaar Bloodrage chuckles and shakes his head.
“Av-‘osto, Iôn. The leaves of your life is still vagrant… it is not your time… not yet.”
(Av-‘osto, Iôn = Sindarin for: Don’t be afraid, Son or Don’t fear, Son)
Arangilas nods, trying hard to find some words… but for once he is unable to…
Eldonaar chuckles again.
“Avo Bedo, Iôn… Lasto nin…”
(Avo Bedo, Iôn = Sindarin for: Don’t speak, Son. Listen to me)
Eldonaar then smiles as he studies his son, who apparently is in some kind of shock
“Nan aear ar in elin, it is good to see you, Pinig!”
(
“It is good to see you to, Father” Arangilas has problems uttering the words due to his disbelief of the situation he is finding himself in.
Eldonaar inclines his head to his son and smiles.
He picks up a stick and uses it to stir the ambers glowing in the campfire – just as Arangilas remembers from his childhood.
Arangilas smiles back at his father.
The whole thing calms Arangilas down right away.
Arangilas stays silent… hoping for a second that the moment never will end…
Hoping that he can just stay here with his father – forever…
But there is something in the back of his mind that tells him that this will not last…
And it stresses him…
He has so many questions… so many things he wants to tell his father…
He looks at his father again…
He looks calm… just as he used to look before it all got so complicated…
Eldonaar meets his son’s gaze, and suddenly his face turns very serious looking.
“Iston o vellas gîn ne ndagor, Iôn… You have become a great warrior. And you have made your father very proud…”
(Iston o vellas gîn ne ndago, Iôn = Sindarin for: I know your strength in battle, Son)
“But I know you struggle with something that armor cannot protect you from, nor can swords or bows fight it and beat it… I speak of your consciousness…”
Eldonaar lowers his eyes as he takes out his pipe and a small pouch with tobacco.
He then stays silent while filling the pipe with some pipeweed.
Eldonaar lights it and takes a long drag, with an even longer exhale, sighing deeply at the end of it.
“You have let your heart and mind be led astray from your path… from your destiny…
It is time you reflect and meditate on this, and resolve old issues… and not the least – find your way back to the path your destiny lies on…”
Arangilas lowers his head to his father… Just like a child does when it knows it has done something wrong.
“The path you are on now, Iôn - will corrupt your mind. I know you have understood this, and that you – in your way – have tried to make amends. But to really defeat this demon – you need to rid yourself of all other distractions…”
Arangilas nods to his fathers words.
“You are right father… I have understood this… but I am afraid to leave… afraid that if I left, I cannot defend and protect my friends. There are people that rely upon me and my help…”
Eldonaar gives his son a firm look, and speaks with strength in his voice.
“You cannot help them, if your mind is clouded, and your heart is weak… You should seek our friend up in the mountains… There you can find the peace, and the rest you need to find the man you used to be… Reclaim yourself!”
“Maetho!!”
Eldonaar’s eyes burns as he utters the last word to his son.
(Maetho = Sindarin for: Fight)
Arangilas meets his father’s eyes with determination as he places a vow to him.
“Cerithon iest gîn, Adar”
(Cerithon iest gîn, Adar = Sindarin for: I will do your wish, Father)
Eldonaar gives his son a smile that shows his satisfaction with Arangilas’ words.
“Garo amdir, Pinig… I have faith in that you will overcome your demon… And once more restore our name – and let it once more be a testament to our believes in caring for, and respecting all living creatures – and a testament to our fight against anyone, or anything that tries to enslave or rob them from their freedom.”
(Garo amdir, Pinig = Sindarin for: Have hope, little one)
Arangilas tries to keep his concentration towards his father, and his words… but he suddenly also becomes aware of a voice in the wind…
A female voice… Seemingly calling to someone… coming closer and closer…
He looks to his father – he seems to hear it as well, and smiles to Arangilas as he speaks.
“It seems our joyous meeting is over, Pinig... it is time…”
Eldonaar uses the stick to stir the fire again.
Arangilas looks at his father as he becomes more and more aware of the female voice – now getting very clear and seemingly very close. Almost like it comes from the trees nearby them.
Arangilas eyes becomes blurry… the fog starts to appear again…
He hears his father utter a few last words before the fog completely covers him and the campfire…
“Remember… Garo amdir, Pinig…” (Have hope, Little one)
Arangilas suddenly feels himself fall. The ground suddenly disappearing beneath him again…
The female voice is fills his head… he closes his eyes once more… concentrating…
trying to pinpoint where the female voice is coming from.
“Sir!... Please wake up!... Sir….”
Arangilas opens his eyes and looks right into the eyes of a woman – standing over him
“Oh… there you are… I was so worried, sir…”
Her green eyes stares at him, wide open. A smile appears on her lips…
Arangilas tries to lift his head and upper body… but the pain from his sore and beaten-up body throws him down again.
His head is aching…
He looks at his surroundings, and finds himself in what seems to be the Lone Lands…
Right by him there is a dead warg, and he can see Aridae standing a few feet away from him – clearly relieved to see Arangilas awake.
He suddenly remembers it all… The woman… the wargs… the fight... the last warg attacking him, and him falling towards some ruin rubble.
He can feel a huge bump on his head where he hit the rocks…
He then remembers his strange meeting with his father…
Was it all just a dream?
Or did he actually meet him in some strange impossible way?
Had his consciousness projected him forward in his mind – in his desperate attempt to seek his father’s advice…
He looks up at the sky, and utters a few words…
“Garo hîdh nen gurth, Adar vell”
(Garo hîdh nen gurth, Adar vell = Sindarin for: Have peace in death, Beloved Father)
“What did you say, Sir? I am sorry… but I do not understand…”
Arangilas looks at the woman again, pondering a little before scratching his head and smiling…
“Oh… I apologize, Miss… I was just rambling on…”
Arangilas looks at the dead warg at his side, and points at it before looking at the woman again…
The woman smiles and shakes her head.
“Oh no… my goodness… no… I could never have beaten that foul creature…”
She then points at Aridae and grins.
“But your horse though… now that’s a fierce fighter…”
Arangilas looks at the woman with a face seemingly full of questions…
“As the warg attacked you and you fell over to hit your head, your horse flew in and kicked the warg to its death with its backfeet… or hooves as I think they are called on a horse…”
The woman grins and wrinkles her nose.
“I am Tamara by the way… And you my saviour… what is your name?”
Arangilas tries to comprehend the fact that his horse has just saved him from sure death, but manages to utter a few words with a slight polite smile.
“Arangilas… Arangilas Bloodrage”
((To be continued)
