((The book Apocrypha of the Maker that appears as holy tome to the Kinn-Lai and as recognitions of Adhasaria and Adhasaror Inásdhe. Some say throughout the knowledge it contains it is a token of great power and might confuse those of lesser minds, yes, it may even rob them of their sanity. Curious how seemingly a copy of it has reached the library of Imladris. This book that contains to the Eldar often heretic writings seems to be missing important pages though.))
Apocrypha of the Maker
Words
11-19
Nï'e o'ail am mdharú-eor, as kumbrogon agh imandharis, it says in a gathering of spoken thoughts from whence a moment, a sandcorn of the Infinity in where time is of no essence for there is no being that would regard it as any that matters, in which those who could speak, awoke first. It was to a time in where no golden circle wandered the unending and perfect skies followed by the bright sickle of silver, there this thought was spoken and brought into the world.
It became a law.
As we breathed, saw, heard and lived not regarding the passing of time, there it came into being and we who were known to that moment to non but ourselves, we understood:
Words accomplish much and not seldom do they kill.
Kill. A part of this thought that even I have forgotten. For to the moment it was outspoken, death was created.
In earlier days in where we had not thought of the strength of what we uttered, there we were no subject to him. Death remained an unborn entity through the days in which the earth was created, but the parents of him are we and we had to witness how our own creation began to master us. We bore him through words.
But we understood our child. Alone he could not take us into the finity, into the nothingness and there we beheld our perfection. For whilst trees whithered, beasts sucumbed, so did we live. And we became aware of Time. She was our second child and she followed our son who was Death.
And all but us had to die after an amount of time through our words that were uttered and our realizations that were made. As the Valar and Eru formed the World, so did we fill it with the power that we had created ourselves. For what could die, had to live.
Life was our third child and it stayed with us. As we then saw that both Death and Time had gone from us and that we were no subject to them, for neither did we whither nor did we vanish so we saw that we were perfect - immortal.
We made the laws, they were our children, born through words and we governed the earth to this day.
And although our brethren have turned away, followed the way of those who are imperfect and subject to Time and Death, have my brother and me remained on the path on which we were set. We understand the words.
And so are our words like flying arrows. They fly swift and true, strike and kill.
And so are our words like balsam. They lie down on the wounds of the spirit and heal them.
Our words are the Death. Our words are the Life.
For they are our words.
