Cosmology
Before
thought had conceived matter, before Time began tracking the courses of the
stars, Ulië was, alone. He dwelt in no realm, but himself was all that
was, and there was no other. But then Ulië spoke, and silence was broken.
From Ulië’s speech came forth majestic beings of bright light and
beauty, and so they existed with Ulië. Three beings he created, and they
were given for their names the words with which Ulië created them. But
those names were not known, nor in the Odarim, nor ever upon Gilalion. But
to the Faeries, and thus to all living beings, they were known as the Tol-aderi,
for they were the First Spirits, and they were known each by a name: Jehiël,
Chiël, and Anthiël. And the Tol-aderi were the Firstborn of Ulië,
brethren in majesty and power, greatest among all that came from Ulië.
Jehiel was chief among the Tol-aderi and Master over all things created by
Ulië, not by power, for the three Tol-aderi were equal in power, but
by station, for Ulië appointed him such at his birth. He was the first
created but the last to speak, for he was fain only to listen to Ulië
and his own brethren’s speech. But when at last he did speak, his voice
was like the music of an organ, deep and resonant, and all listened in silence
to its beauty. And Jehiel was in later times made Lord of Justice, for his
patience was long-tested, and he was slow to anger. Chiel was the second-born,
and she was unlike the other two, for she was made female. She was the fairest
of the Tol-aderi, and her countenance shone with a splendor unequaled. Her
birth caused Jehiel to cower near Ulië’s feet, for he was still
newborn, and in his ignorance he feared the brilliance of her birthlight.
Chiel’s voice was like the music of a harp, flowing and dropping like
water. And so was Chiel known in later times as the Lady of Light and Beauty,
for in these things she found her greatest delight. Of the Tol-aderi, Chiel
best comprehended Ulië’s mind, and so it is said that there is
no wiser creature of Ulië than she. Thus is Chiel’s counsel ever
good. Last was born Anthiel, whose voice, although insensible, sounded immediately
upon his birth, and it was the sound of a trumpet, glad and high. Anthiel
was quick to speech, preferring his own voice to silence. His thoughts were
like lightning, and his voice followed hard upon them, so much that he would
at times cut short the speech of his brethren. And for a long age, Ulië
spoke to his children and unfolded his mind to them, so they became wise beyond
all that would follow, for only the Tol-aderi have seen Ulië’s
mind, and that only in part. Ulië communed with his children, and so
they came to understanding. Then all was silence again, and Ulië spoke.
And from his words there came an all-suffusing light, surrounding them. From
the light there came a host of spirits, the Eídel, the Second Born,
and they seemed to be a countless multitude. And they were counted as brethren
to the Tol-aderi, although lesser, and each was given a name. Among the greatest
of the Eídel were Elendrie, Merofal, Lorsal, Kir-moril, Arunal, Nazir,
Thalvan, and Noldel; these became the most beloved of the Tol-aderi and their
children, and in the Odarim they laboured beside the Tol-aderi. Thus did the
Tol-aderi and the Eídel live long in the glory of Ulië. But at
last, Ulië spoke to his children, saying, “I am going to do a new
thing, strange and wonderful, and you will be astonished and love the thing
I do.” Then Ulië spoke, and the Void fled away from him, and no
place was found for it. Thus was the Odarim born, a vast empty space without
light. And the Tol-aderi and the Eídel marveled at this and were silent.
But Ulië’s thought was not complete; he spoke again, and from the
darkness there sprang countless bodies of fire, which were called stars, and
the Odarim was illuminated. Again his children marveled, and there was murmuring
among them. But Anthiel spoke loudest, saying, “What is this thing he
has done? Now shall we enter it and enjoy its loveliness?” But Ulië’s
thought was still not complete, and he spoke a third time. At the sound of
his voice, great beings of fire came to be, and they lived on the stars. And
these fire-creatures were different from the Spirits, for they were given
bodies of flame, forms that they could not change, and their spirit lived
inside that form. Ulië called them Kiran, the Star Faeries, and the music
of their voices filled the Odarim. Now did the Spirits who dwelt with Ulië
desire to go into the Odarim to see and know these new creatures. And so Jehiel
spoke to Ulië and said, “We see that you have made a thing new
and strange, such as has never been before, and its birth-song resounds even
to its outer limits. But this song we only hear; we do not feel its rhythm.
This creation we see, but we do not share in its light. Can it be that Spirits
such as we shall enter it and enjoy it as the Kiran do?” And Anthiël,
following hard upon Jehiël’s words, said, “And shall we not
also fashion wonderful things in this place, so to increase its beauty?”
But Chiel was silent, for the loveliness of the Odarim and the Kiran struck
her so that she had no thought for speech. Ulië then responded, saying,
“You may enter it and bring everything under your power, for such was
my design in creating it, that you might be the just stewards of my creation.
But do not lord your power over the Kiran, for they are your brothers, with
the right to go where they will and do as they wish.” Then the Tol-aderi
were glad, and, along with some of the Eídel, they entered the Odarim.
And for the sake of the Kiran they took up forms, bodies such as the Kiran
had. But these bodies were not like the Kiran’s bodies, for they were
larger and more glorious. And each of the Tol-aderi chose a form most suited
to his true likeness, that those who gazed upon these bodies might thus come
to know something of the hearts within them. And Jehiel took the form of a
King, dark of hair and eye. His beard, too, was black like his hair, and his
brow was lofty and majestic. His voice remained as it had ever been, deep
and regal. He was clad in deepest blue, and in his hand was Justice. Anthiel
then looked upon his brother’s form, and he took one like unto it. His
eyes, too, were dark, dark as the Odarim before the first star, but his hair
was longer than Jehiel’s, falling unbound to his elbows. Anthiel had
no beard, for he said, “I am the youngest of us all. It is not fitting
that I should assume this sign of wisdom.” But it is said that perhaps
here was first seen the pride of Anthiel, for he was proud of the face he
had fashioned and wished not to hide it in any way. But then Chiel took up
a form, and her brothers were astonished, for her body was such as they had
never seen. She was Light incarnate. Her eyes were blue, while her hair was
long and golden, and both shone with a light that shamed the stars. She was
clad in white; and on her brow sat beauty, while in her mouth was wisdom.
The Eídel, too, took bodies after the fashion of the Tol-aderi, though
less in majesty and splendor. But unlike the Kiran, the Tol-aderi and the
Eídel were not bound to these forms, but could change them at their
pleasure. This ability they retained for the duration of the Odarim, save
only the one who fell from his place. Thus it came to pass that the Tol-aderi
and Eídel lived with the Kiran, sharing with them the Odarim, and all
was peace. Then Ulië’s Voice was heard through the Odarim, and
he summoned the Tol-aderi to him. They gathered at his call, rejoicing to
hear the Voice that had been silent. And Ulië said, “My children,
you enjoy the beauty of the Odarim, but not yet have you satisfied your desire
for making. Therefore, I would have you fashion a world, the three of you
together, like to the stars of the Kiran, but without light of its own. A
world not of Fire, but Air and Earth and Water.” And the words that
Ulië had spoken stirred the hearts of the Tol-aderi, though they did
not fully comprehend them, for Air, Earth, and Water had yet to be. Then Anthiel
spoke, saying, “The word that Ulië has spoken is good! Let us indeed
fashion a place, fairer than any that yet has been, that all may see it and
rejoice.” And the hearts of all three Tol-aderi were glad as they came
to the place that Ulië had chosen. There they laboured long, and it came
to pass that the World began to take shape. And each of the Tol-aderi had
a particular labour that occupied him more than any other. Jehiel laboured
long in the new element of Earth, shaping it and fashioning it after his desire.
And he placed in it gems of great beauty, for the delight of Ulië and
himself alone, for none knew the heart of the Earth save Jehiël and the
all-seeing Ulië. And from the deep heart of the Earth Jehiel began to
draw forth plants, the towering trees and the quivering grasses, but something
lacked. So he ceased. But Anthiël laboured in the Air, in that invisible
element, and he was pleased with his conception , for the winds made sweet
music and spoke with an echo of his own voice. And the Airs were cold, protecting
the World from the searing heats of the Odarim. Anthiel rejoiced in his design,
and he then began to give thought to birds, swift and fair, that might fly
through the Airs he had made. He began to create them, birds that soared on
the invisible currents of his winds, but still something lacked. And he cried
aloud, saying, “What is this? Why is my creation spoiled?” Then
Chiel began her labours, and she who had looked longest into the mind of Ulië
created Water, and the color of it was the blue of her own eyes. And Jehiel
was glad, for the Water of Chiel nourished his trees and grasses, and in his
joy he began again to create, and animals sprang forth from him, the mighty
lion and the roaring bear, as well as the timid hare and bounding wolf. And
Chiel placed within the Waters fish, creatures of shining scales and swift
motion. And in the seas are found the greatest of all the animals of the World,
the mighty sea-creatures. And then she placed Water in the Air, in the form
of clouds, and Anthiel rejoiced, for now the motion of his winds could be
seen.
Thus the World was finished, but it was dark. Only the stars of the Kiran
shone in the black sky, but their light was diminished by distance, and nothing
could be seen on the Earth. Then was Anthiel again troubled, for with the
departure of the Tol-aderi the World had become so dark that nothing of his
Airs could be seen. And he looked to Jehiel and said, “My brother, what
is here? Must we ever stay in the World to give it light? Shall not its beauty
be seen even when we are absent from it?” Jehiel shook his head, for
he felt within his heart the desire of Ulië, and knew that the World
they had made was not for their own dwelling. But he was silent, knowing that
Light was not his gift. Then Chiel created a shining palace high above the
World, and in it she placed Light, the same glowing light of her hair, and
it shone more brilliantly than the stars. As her eyes could shame the flames
of the Kiran, so her new creation shamed all other light save her own. To
Elves this creation is known as Anbar, while Men call it the Sun. And Anthiel
rejoiced, for the sky was lit in splendor at last, and the World shone in
all its pristine loveliness. Then Chiel looked to Jehiel her brother and said,
her voice the music of water, “My brother and liege under Ulië,
what is to be the name of this fair place?” Jehiel answered her, saying,
“It shall be called Gilalion, the Triple Beauty, for Air, Earth, and
Water are the three new beauties of the Odarim.” Then the Tol-aderi
rested from their labours, enjoying the beauty of their creation. But Ulië
spoke again, summoning them from Gilalion to his presence once more. And they
came, Jehiel and Chiel rejoicing at the sound of his great Voice, but Anthiel
came reluctantly, scarcely able to tear himself away from the things that
he had made. When they all stood before him again, Ulië said to them,
“My children, you have done well. Gilalion is all that I desired. But
it is not for your dwelling place. It is a home for my new creation--”
But Anthiel was exceeding wroth, and spoke even over the Voice of Ulië.
“Is this our labour to be destroyed by the Kiran? For they could not
enter the Airs of Gilalion, nor could their feet touch its earth without destroying
it!” But Ulië responded patiently, saying, “It is not for
the Kiran, but for these my new creatures. Look well upon Gilalion.”
And all three of the Tol-aderi gazed upon it, and there before their eyes,
the Lorin sprang into being at Ulië’s command, spirits clad in
forms of Air and Water. They were lovely as the Kiran, and as powerful. And
Chiel rejoiced at their grace and their dominion over her creation. Then came
the Unicorns, springing from the Earth, and being connected with it ever.
And Jehiel, too, was glad, for his creation was enjoyed. But Anthiel was unappeased,
and the pride he felt in his abilities and creations darkened his heart in
that hour. He resented the Lorin’s domination of his airs, and for that
reason he has ever hated the Lorin. But he hid his mind from his brethren
and said nothing. But from Ulië nothing is hidden, and he grieved at
Anthiel’s evil. He mourned, and said, “Never again shall I create
in the Odarim, save by your hands.” And for long all was silent. Jehiel
and Chiel were troubled by Ulië’s decree, but both felt that it
would be ill to question it. So they bowed their heads and waited in silence.
But Anthiel turned from them, and from Ulië, and went his own way. He
tried to enter Gilalion, though Ulië had forbidden it, but he could not.
Angered, he wandered far in the Odarim, seeking solace in its fairness. But
peace he could not find, not then, nor at any time since. And he lived in
rebellion against Ulië and against his brethren from that hour, seeking
to mar all that they had made fair. And Chiel and Jehiel returned to Gilalion,
but did not enter it. They gazed upon it, and upon the Lorin and the Unicorns,
and were glad. Thus did Time begin its unnoticed count upon Gilalion. And
it came to pass that Jehiel looked with favor upon Elendrie of the Eídel,
and she returned his love. So he wed her not long after the creation of Gilalion.
And he knew her, and she conceived. Four children she bore to Jehiël,
three sons and one daughter. And their firstborn was named Lehvandar. He took
a form like to that of his mother, with skin the color of gold, and hair as
dark as Jehiel’s own. He was given much to contemplation, in temperament
like his father. And with his birth, Ulië did a new thing, for Magic
entered the Odarim and was under Lehvandar’s authority. The second son
Elendrie bore to Jehiël was named Alaxton, and he was fair to look upon.
He, like all the children of Jehiel and Elendrie, took the golden skin of
his mother’s form and the ebony hair of his father. His eyes were dark
as the starless Void, and as depthless. The creation of poetry was his joy,
and the first of all poems were his. The third child of Jehiel was his daughter,
Aeirakai. She was his greatest pride, for she was a spirit of Music. She delighted
in song and in instruments. Her voice was sweet, almost as sweet as that of
Chiël herself. Wrapped in her dark hair as in a cloak, she floated through
the darkness between the stars, filling the space with her voice. The youngest
son of Jehiel and Elendrie was Veirakai. He was given to making, the fashioning
of things new and wonderful. He it was who created the flute that Aeirakai
still plays upon. The first sword, too, was forged by him, and he became the
greatest of all smiths. Now when all four of these children had been born,
and Jehiel knew with the knowledge of Ulië that no more children would
be born to him, Alaxton came to speak with his father. “My father and
liege under Ulië, I desire your permission to marry.” And Jehiel
smiled, for it gave him pleasure to think that his son, too, might be a father.
“You have my permission, my son. Ask her hand without fear, for who
among the Eídel would refuse you?” Then Alaxton’s face
darkened, and he replied, “She whom I love is not of the Eídel,
for I desire the fairest of all the beings of the Odarim. I will wed with
her or have no wife as long as the Odarim shall endure.” Then Jehiel
knew that Alaxton desired the hand of Chiel, and his heart was at peace, though
he did not know the will of Ulië in this matter. He knew that Chiel,
whose counsel to others was ever wise and good, would make no error here.
“Go, my son. Ask this boon of her. It may be that she will grant it,
for you are great in the Odarim.” Alaxton then left his father’s
presence, rejoicing. He came to Chiel, in her bright palace, and the splendor
of her face nearly struck him dumb. But he looked at her with his depthless
ebony eyes and said, “Lady of Light, whose face is brighter than the
sun of Gilalion, I crave a boon of you.” “Say on,” said
Chiel. “For I will not refuse you.” “I crave your hand in
marriage.” For a moment, all was still. The Eídel who attended
Chiel were speechless and amazed. Then Chiel rose from her high seat and placed
her hand in Alaxton’s. “I will wed with you, and you shall be
my lord under Ulië.” So it came to pass that after this joining,
twin sons were born to Chiel and Alaxton. These two were dark of hair like
their father, but their eyes held the Light of Chiel. And they were called
Kresek and Myrich. They were greater than their father, and even more fair.
And their mother rejoiced at their birth, for their father was pleased with
them. Then did Chiel fashion the twin moons of Gilalion, in honor of her two
sons. For Myrich she created Kerolindos, the pale blue moon that begins each
month on Gilalion, for Myrich was the firstborn of her twins. But for Kresek
she made Kerolebos, the bright red moon. Then, after the births of Kresek
and Myrich, did Jehiël feel the direction of Ulië. He gathered his
children to him, and they stood around his throne. Chiel, too, was there,
with Alaxton her lord, and Kresek and Myrich her sons. So Jehiel spoke. “My
children, Ulië has spoken to my heart, and I have a choice to lay before
you. You have seen Gilalion, that it is lovely, but you have known ever that
it was forbidden to you. But Ulië has said that it is not to the Eídel
that Gilalion is forbidden, only to the Tol-aderi. But you, my children are
both Eídel and Tol-aderi; thus you have a choice. You may either enter
Gilalion, and there be bound as long as the Odarim shall endure, or you may
remain in the Odarim, never to enter Gilalion, even as Chiël and I are
barred from it.” Then spoke Alaxton, saying, “Shall I enter this
place, fair though it be, and be barred from the presence of her who is the
Light of the Odarim? Gilalion is not for me.” But Lehvandar, Aeirakai,
and Veirakai desired greatly to enter Gilalion, for it was unique in all the
Odarim. And Jehiël agreed, so they were bound to it forever. But before
he bound Lehvandar to the World, he said, “My son, you have a double
choice, for Magic is under your authority. If you enter Gilalion this can
no longer be, for Magic, though present there, is not bound to the World.”
And Lehvandar replied, “My father, the brilliance of Gilalion calls
to my heart. If Magic is the price of my entry there, so be it.” So
Magic was taken from under Lehvandar’s hand. But Kresek and Myrich both
stood before Jehiel’s throne, still at their mother’s side, and
both stepped forward, saying, “My grandfather, place Magic under my
hand.” Then Jehiel consulted with Ulië in his heart, and answered,
“Magic shall indeed be placed under the hand of one of you, but shall
the other have nothing? Such is not the will of Ulië. To the other shall
be given a new thing and a new authority. Death and the Dead shall be under
the hand of the other of you.” Now Jehiël’s words did not
please Kresek and Myrich, for neither of them desired this strange thing,
but both wanted only Magic. Thus they spoke, again with a single voice, “Say
that Magic is to be given to me, my grandfather, for I do not desire the lordship
of Death.” Then Jehiel was troubled, for he did not wish to choose between
his grandsons; and he turned to Chiel for counsel. And Chiel answered him,
saying, “Let each of them draw apart for one revolution of the Light
about Gilalion. Let each in his heart seek the desire of Ulië, and when
they return have them ask their boons again.” For Chiel had petitioned
Ulië in her heart, knowing that unceasing strife could come of this if
her sons were not satisfied. Thus Kresek and Myrich obeyed their grandfather’s
command to draw apart, but they did not at once seek the will of Ulië,
for the desire of Magic was strong upon them. Then came Anthiel to Myrich
whither he had withdrawn, and there Anthiël said to him, “My son,
for truly I feel kinship with one so wronged as yourself, why do you let them
treat with you this way? You should ask Magic not as a boon, but as a right!”
Then Myrich’s heart began to incline to Anthiel’s words, and he
began to ponder within himself. And Anthiel saw that Myrich began to be swayed,
so he spoke again, saying, “Indeed why should you not have both Magic
and Gilalion? For you are also of Eídel blood. You should take up your
place in Gilalion, ruling it as a King, for are you not greater than Lehvandar
and his brethren? They are as nothing to you. Your beauty is greater than
theirs; why should you not have what they have and Magic also? If you have
Magic, then your brother, too, will ever serve you, for you will be greater
than he.” But here Anthiel overreached his aim, for Myrich, though he
desired dominion over Magic, loved Lehvandar, Veirakai, and Aeirakai, and
most dearly his brother Kresek. He had no pride for Anthiel to touch upon
, and he became angry with Anthiel, saying, “Get you gone from my sight,
for if you stay with me, when I return to my grandfather I will show him where
you may be found. Therefore hide yourself, proud Anthiel! For I have done
with you.” And Myrich turned his back upon Anthiel. Then Anthiel was
wrathful, and would have struck down Myrich where he stood, but fear stayed
his hand. “Surely Chiël would never rest if I destroyed him. And
Ulië himself might even come for me!” So Anthiel fled Myrich’s
presence and hid himself once more. While Anthiel spoke with Myrich, Kresek
had turned his heart toward Ulië, seeking his desire. And for long Ulië
neither spoke, nor gave any sign. But as the Light of Gilalion was setting
there came before Kresek a vision of a woman, a creature such as he had never
seen before. Kresek became enamored of this vision, desiring to have her ever
at his side. “Stay!” he cried, stretching out his hand to the
vision. “What art thou?” But she spoke not and began to fade from
his sight. “Stay!” he cried again. Then Ulië’s Voice
was heard in Kresek’s heart. “She is Dead. Death is her home and
only kingdom.” Then all was silent. But Kresek rejoiced, saying, “I
shall be the Lord of the Dead, for this maiden I must have for all time.”
When the allotted time was fulfilled, Kresek and Myrich both appeared before
Jehiel. The Tol-aderi looked from one face to the other and saw peace in both
pairs of eyes. “I see that you have reached a decision.”
Kresek spoke then, saying, “I will be Lord of the Dead, my grandfather.
My heart is altered since last we spoke, and this is my deepest desire.”
Then Myrich marveled, for though he had still desired Magic, yet for the sake
of peace he would have taken authority over the Dead. He said, “My brother,
for this I thank you ever.” And they clasped hands before Jehiel’s
throne. Jehiel was glad at this, and authority over Magic was then given to
Myrich, while Kresek became Lord of the Dead, though as yet there were none.
Now after Kresek had been chosen Lord of the Dead, Jehiel decreed that the
home of the Dead must be created. And a second World was made, but it was
in all ways unlike Gilalion. It resembled closely the stars of the Kiran,
but it was based upon Water rather than Fire. And in this building Kresek
was the chief, for this World would be his to rule. He laboured long with
his mother, learning of her the fashioning of Water. And when the creation
was complete, Jehiel pronounced it good, for it was fair after the manner
of the stars, and it glowed with a soft, blue light. Then Kresek made his
home on this World, and there awaited the coming of the Dead. And while in
the outer reaches of the Odarim Chiel and Kresek laboured, on Gilalion Jehiel’s
children made dwellings for themselves. Now in a large forest of sweetly fragrant
green trees Lehvandar made his home. He built a high tower, fashioned of enchanted
stone that could scarcely be seen, even with magical sight. This he did, not
because he feared any attack, for all was peaceful in Gilalion, but because
he did not wish to disturb the beauty of the forest. And in this tower he
placed the great tome that Men know as Deepchill, but the Elves simply call
the Edamir Talas, the Codex of Magic. For this book contained much knowledge
much of magic, indeed all knowledge of it, since Lehvandar had once been the
Master of all Magic. This title now belonged to Myrich, but Lehvandar retained
the knowledge he had had. All this he wrote into the Codex of Magic, merely
for the joy of writing it. But Veirakai’s dwelling was different from
Lehvandar’s; he dwelt beneath the highest mountain in the east of Gilalion,
and there he kindled the unquenchable fires of his great forge. Other dwellings
he had none, for in those days Veirakai was unwearied in creating, shaping,
and making. But Aeirakai’s home was in the sea that the Elves call the
Aras Koralin, the Pearl Sea; for she was fascinated by the water of Chiel’s
creation, and she it was who scattered the pearls beneath the waves. All pearls
else were the natural formations of the sea-creatures, but those of the Aras
Koralin were of Aeirakai’s own making. All of those pearls have healing
virtue, for Aeirakai’s hands touched them. Thus Jehiël’s
children dwelt in Gilalion and were glad. But during this time Anthiel was
not idle, for his heart was filled with hatred unquenchable for Ulië
and the other Tol-aderi; for the singing beauty of the Odarim surrounded him,
and the Tol-aderi were at peace in it. So Anthiel took counsel in himself
how he might best destroy that peace. And it came to pass that he looked upon
a Kiran woman, the fairest and most beloved among them, and his heart burned
with dark lust for her. He took her to himself by force, and he knew her.
Her name was Anyéh, and she was surnamed Temäith, for she was
like a bright flame. Of this abominable union were sprung Kisalim, Fithaur,
and Kanfiran, those enemies of shadow and flame. Anyéh resisted Anthiel
to the ends of her power, and succeeded in passing part of her mood on to
the first of her children. But the other two were darker, and the third child,
Kanfiran, was wholly evil. Indeed, though the first and second births did
not harm her, yet the evil of the third birth, Kanfiran’s, was so great
that it devoured her even as she birthed it. For this deed, the taking of
Anyéh, Anthiël was named Lodhlok by the Kiran, which means in
their tongue “the Defiler.” But even this evil did not satisfy
Anthiel, and he bethought himself of other creatures. So he mated his children
with each other. Of Kisalim and Fithaur were born two children, those huge
creatures known as Skvultmodhei, the Greater Giants. These were large, dark
of hair and eye, most foul to look upon. For though the children of Anyéh
could clothe themselves in forms lovely to see, yet for this mating Anthiël
commanded they take forms strange and hideous. But for the mating of Kanfiran
and Fithaur he thought of a new thing, and from this union were spawned the
foulest creatures in the Odarim, the Dragons. They were five in number, Dweruth,
Udarol, Diëspur, Misalik, and Eibéuth, but the Elves know them
by different names, for they wrought great pain and suffering upon Chiel’s
children. But Kanfiran was not satiated, for the dark lust of her father was
in her heart, and she mated with Dweruth, her own child, and from this doubly
incestuous coupling were born the Deithken, the lesser spirits. From these
beginnings were born into the Odarim all the Children of the Enemy.
Now after the birth of the Deithken, Anthiel rejoiced at the darkness that
surrounded him, for where the children of Anyéh dwelt, there the stars
were darkened. Then Anthiel thought again of Gilalion, and his hatred was
roused anew. He gazed upon its golden beauty, and there he beheld Jehiel’s
children, living in it in peace and harmony. He longed to thrust his hand
into Gilalion and destroy them, but he did not dare. To rouse Jehiel’s
wrath was not yet his intention. But as he watched the three, his gaze lingered
on Veirakai, for in him Anthiel saw something that pleased him. In Veirakai’s
love of craft and for the things he had made Anthiël saw the potential
for a devouring pride like his own. And then Anthiel laughed at his own thoughts,
and he called Kanfiran to him, saying to her, “My daughter, you are
the most like to me of all my children. Look well on this child of Jehiël,
and tell me what you see.” Kanfiran obeyed, and she smiled as she perceived
her father’s purpose. “Direct me, my father. For I see that he
may be bent to our will.” So Anthiel unfolded to her his plan for the
fall of Veirakai. And it came to pass that as Veirakai was labouring in his
forge beneath the eastern mountains Kanfiran entered Gilalion and came to
him. She came as a creature of darkness and beauty, such as Veirakai had never
before imagined. “What are you, lovely one?” he asked. “I
am Kanfiran,” she replied. Then she praised his works, his creations
of the forge until Veirakai was confused. She noted this and chose that moment
to say, “Why are you alone here? Why do the others of this fair World
not give to you the homage due you? For with your skill you should by rights
be King over all this place.” Veirakai shook his head, saying, “Kingship
belongs to my father alone.” But Kanfiran answered him, saying, “And
where is your father? He is not here, not in Gilalion, for Ulië forbade
his entrance. Why was this? Why was your father forbidden to enter, but not
yourself? For Ulië knew of your excellence in craft, and He would have
you be King over this place. What other is there more worthy? Behold, I will
give you the homage due you!” And she knelt before him, kissing his
hand. Then was Veirakai troubled, for her words stirred his heart. “Go,”
he said, already assuming something of the authority she would have him seize,
“for I would think more on these things.” Kanfiran smiled within
herself, but answered him only, “As my lord wishes.” And she departed
to her father’s place. Then did Veirakai ponder within himself on the
words of Kanfiran, and they seemed to him good and true. “For surely
I am the most skilled of all in Gilalion, and here my father’s authority
does not run. Thus shall I be King over Gilalion.” But he did not yet
speak of these things to Lehvandar or to Aeirakai, for he began to fear them.
“They will not submit to me,” he thought, and it was true. Lehvandar
and Aeirakai were devoted to their father and would never own any other King.
“I must find a way to bend them to my will.” And even as he thought
this, it came to pass that Ulië spoke to the heart of Jehiel. “Twice
more I would create beings to enjoy this Odarim, but I will create in it no
more save by the hands of my faithful Tol-aderi.” Jehiel hearkened to
these words and was silent. Ulië continued. “By your hands would
I now cause a new race to be, a race that is tied to Gilalion, made of the
very stuff of it. Behold!” And in Jehiel’s mind he saw the Men
that were yet to be, and he was greatly troubled. “How shall I obey
you?” asked Jehiel. “How shall I bring into being creatures such
as these? For they have within them the Flames of Life, and this I cannot
grant.” “Think not of that, for when the time comes, the Flames
of Life shall flow from me through you, and they shall Live.” But another
thought struck Jehiel, and again he questioned Ulië, saying, “But
how shall I enter Gilalion to create this race? For it is barred to me.”
And Ulië answered patiently, for Jehiel did not question Ulië’s
decree, but only his own worthiness. “This grace shall be granted to
you, that when your thought is complete you shall thrust your hand into Gilalion
and fashion the shapes you have designed. But tarry not overlong in the shaping,
lest your work be but half-finished when Gilalion shall close itself to you
once more.” “So be it.” Then Jehiel began to take thought
to the shape of Men. No sooner had Jehiel begun his ponderings than Ulië’s
thought called to the heart of Chiel, and she answered him. “Speak,
Lord. What is your will?” “At the creation of the Lorin I spoke
of creating by your hands and by the hands of Jehiel. And even now Jehiël
begins the preparations for his creation. But shall my faithful Chiel make
nothing? No, you, too, shall fashion a race for me. Now Jehiel creates of
the stuff of Gilalion, of its elements, but I would not have your creatures
be so. Behold!” And Chiel beheld the image of the Elves, many and fair,
and she said, “These beings live, yet not after the manner of the Lorin.
Though their origin be not within Gilalion, and its decay shall but slowly
wear them, still they shall die. Yet what shall be their fate? For I who create
them am bounded within the Odarim as long as it shall endure, and so shall
they be. Shall they join with Jehiël’s creatures in death?”
“You speak truly, and these your Elves and the Men of Jehiel shall dwell
within the realm of your son when they die, there to be rewarded according
to their deserts, for Kresek is both Judge and Lord of the Dead.” “Let
it be as my Lord has said.” And Chiel began that very hour to fashion
the bodies of the Elves. She took the Light of her designing and her love,
and she made their forms. Many did she create, beings fair and lovely, larger
than the Lorin, yet still to her exceeding small. Then when she had finished
her labours, she dropped her creations to Gilalion in the form of a golden
dew, a liquid light. This Light struck the snowy roses that grew in the shade
of the Lyvarien, and when the dew struck the roses, Ulië’s power
flowed through the hands of Chiel, and the Elves lived. And they called themselves
the Dal-Kalen, the Rose Children, for they were born of Light and roses. And
even as the Elves drew their first breaths, Jehiel thrust his hand into Gilalion.
He took the element of Earth and he fashioned two forms, one male and one
female. And they were of the same stature as the Elves, but their appearance
differed. The Men were thicker, sturdier, and lacked the delicacy of the Elven
features. But they were fair in their own way, beautiful and strong after
the manner of a towering oak rather than graceful and lovely after the manner
of a blood-red rose. And Jehiel gave to the Men a knowledge of the Earth and
of its plants that could only find its expression in agriculture. For the
Men from the first have desired to tame the wildness of Gilalion, and cause
it to be fruitful, while the Elves have preferred to leave it as they found
it. But the Elves, though formed of Light and not of any of the elements of
Gilalion, have ever loved Water, for the loves of Chiel were mirrored in her
creatures, even as the loves of Jehiel found their expression in Men. Now
the Men, being but two, a Man and his wife, for long ages were unnoticed and
unknown to the children of Jehiel, but when Lehvandar, Aeirakai, and Veirakai
beheld the Elves they were astonished. The Elves awakened in the Briën
Amir, within the long western bend of the river they called the Iëlaja,
the Lifewater. And this rose-filled forest of their birth they named Ataën,
the Cradle. To this new creation of Chiel’s, Jehiel’s children
responded each after the fashion of his heart. Lehvandar began to veil himself,
visiting the Elves as one of themselves. And he taught them much wisdom, showing
to them all manner of the delights of Gilalion. Of Lehvandar himself did the
Elves learn the fashioning of the bow, using it to hunt the animals that Jehiel’s
bounty gave them for food. And of Lehvandar, too, came the ability to harness
Magic, that mysterious Gift of Myrich. He taught them also letters, Alaxton’s
script, for their language. Later, when the Elves knew Lehvandar’s true
self and name they called Tybirath, the Great Teacher, and he was dear to
them ever after. But Aeirakai would not reveal herself to the Elves, instead
coming to them as a wind by night, whispering sweet music through the leaves
of the Lyvarien. And all who heard this music felt their hearts burn with
the desire for more. The Elves called these sounds Kol Delanaëneva, the
Music of the Night Wind. Thus did the love of music come among the Elves,
and they are the greatest musicians of Gilalion. But even the Elves could
not match the Lorin for sweetness of voice, for the Lorin were created by
Ulië alone. Now for long Veirakai came not among the Elves, for the desire
for kingship was strong in his heart, and he pondered only how he might rule
all Gilalion. And in this time, the Age of Peace, was Kerolëiron born.
He was called so because his eyes were blue crystals that glowed with the
soft blue light of Kerolindos, and they were unlike any other eyes that had
ever been on Gilalion. And Ulië was with him, even from his birth. And
Kerolëiron grew into a man in the Age of Peace, and then he departed
the Brien Amir, the Forest Home of the Elves. Ulië had spoken to his
spirit, and he obeyed unquestioningly. He wandered south over the plains and
through the desert until he came to the forest of Lirallan. There dwelt the
Lorin, but they suffered him to enter their dominions, for the hand of Ulië
was on him. There, in the heart of Lirallan, Kerolëiron built the Oracle
of Silshivar, for the Elves have ever known Ulië as the God of the Stars.
And he lived there ever after. He alone among Elves has not passed into the
dominions of Kresek, and it is said that he will dwell in Lirallan until the
end of the Odarim. Now when Kerolëiron had just reached Lirallan, then
came Kanfiran to Veirakai again, and she spoke with the voice of Anthiël,
directing Veirakai to take some of the Elves to a far distant place where
she would show him how to make them an army, able to conquer Gilalion. Then
Veirakai was glad, and clothed himself in the form of a dark Elf, bright of
eye and strong of limb. In this guise he deceived and led from the Briën
Amir a group of wandering Elves, for in those days Elves still traveled the
forest searching for a place to settle. Once they were free of the forest,
Veirakai unveiled himself in all his terrible glory, and the unfortunate Elves
were terrified. They begged for mercy, but already mercy was utterly absent
from Veirakai’s heart. Into his ship of fire and iron, Grambraël,
fashioned after the form of a great bird of prey, he placed the pitiful Elves,
and he spirited them away to the East where the Skvultmodhei awaited in their
burning, unquenchable lust. And Veirakai was amazed, for never had he seen
creatures so foul and hideous. Then his heart was glad, and he did not heed
the voice of Kanfiran but followed the inclinations of his own dark heart.
To Ruikral and Aguleok Veirakai gave the Elves to breed with them. This delighted
the Skvultmodhei, for they knew no thoughts save lust. Ruikral, being the
male, took to him the female Elves, and in their union the Elves were utterly
consumed. No fruit was borne from his unions with them, but he cared not,
for for a brief moment his lust is sated. Nor did Veirakai concern himself,
for the blackness of his heart warmed by the sheer destruction and death of
Ruikral’s matings. But to herself Aguleok took a number of the male
Elves and compelled them to mate with her, and, though the Elves were destroyed
in the mating, the unions bore fruit in the form of the Modhein, the firstborn
of the Skvultmodhei in Gilalion. The Modhein numbered nine, and the firstborn
and mightiest among them was Kûtheok, who in later days became Veirakai’s
greatest captain. Then the Modhein, whose lust was only slightly less than
their mother’s, mated with the remaining Elves and consumed them all,
and from these numerous unions the Secondborn, the Koëhdeth. And their
consuming lust drove them to mate with their mothers and fathers, and with
their other kin, and from this hideous copulation came the Nohr, the lesser
giants. Now while Veirakai had watched these forced matings he had grown darker
and more evil, until even Kanfiran was satisfied with his wickedness. Then
Veirakai looked upon Kanfiran, and he lusted for her dark beauty. But she
perceived his lust, and she feared both him and the might of the offspring
that would be born from her should he take her. So she knelt before Veirakai,
forestalling his demands, saying, “My lord, my time here is nearly over.
Let me depart to my father’s place.” And Veirakai answered her,
saying, “Say not so, Dark Lady. Should you not stay here ever and be
my Queen?” And he laid his hands upon her. Then was Kanfiran exceedingly
afraid, for Veirakai was mightier by far than she. So she said to him, “My
lord, your servant would not leave without your blessing. Thus I have a gift
to give you.” And Veirakai was curious, and he loosed his hold upon
her. “Give me this gift.” “But I must return to my father’s
house to bring it, my lord.” For Kanfiran had no thoughts of giving
anything to Veirakai. But Veirakai was not to be dissuaded. “Then I
will have no gift, Dark One, save the gift of your own self.” And he
reached for her once more. Then Kanfiran’s heart grew cold within her,
but suddenly a thought came to her. “Stay, my lord. I will summon it
here.” So she called upon her youngest children, the Deithken, the lesser
spirits of Shadow, and they answered her call. “All these I will give
to you, my lord, if I might depart with your blessing to my father’s
place.” Veirakai looked upon the Deithken, and their foulness pleased
him greatly. “I will accept these as your gift. But if ever they disobey
my commands, you shall bear my wrath. Now depart from me.” So Kanfiran
fled the World, and she did not enter it again for many ages. But the Deithken
remained behind, and they served Veirakai ever after. Now Veirakai spread
his new Nohr over the face of Gilalion and watched with pride as they multiplied.
But as soon as Veirakai’s Nohr had begun to fill Gilalion, Lehvandar
was aware of them, though their origin was still dark to him. And he feared
for the Elves of the Briën Amir whom he loved, and he bethought how he
might save some of them from the attack he dreaded. He could not fight for
them himself, for Jehiel’s children were forbidden to take an active
hand in the deeds of the Elves; teaching was the extent of their intervention.
So Lehvandar wandered among the Elves as one of them, searching for a suitable
leader. And he found two brothers, Nistaran and Kalindreré. Now these
brothers were fair of face, with hair like fine gold and eyes of silver. And
Kalindreré was a mighty hunter, but Nistaran was given to much study
of the arts that Lehvandar had taught them. Then Lehvandar took these brothers
to a secluded glade, and there he revealed himself to them in all his majesty.
And they were greatly afraid, but Lehvandar said to them, “I do not
seek your ill, therefore fear me not.” So they looked upon him with
wonder, and Nistaran was silent. But Kalindreré said, “Are you
the God of the Stars?”
“I am not,” answered Lehvandar. “I am the eldest son of
Jehiel, Giver of Fruits, and all the Elves are dear to me.” Then Lehvandar
said to them, “I have seen that a new danger has entered Gilalion, and
the Elves may have seen the last of their peace. I do not know from whence
comes this evil, but it is not permitted me to destroy it. Thus I must teach
you how to defend yourselves from it.” And he unfolded to them his plan
to lead a small portion of the Elves into the mountain fastness of the north,
there to be hidden from the Nohr should the Brien Amir be overrun. And he
proposed to teach one of the brothers Magic, for though the Gift was upon
Gilalion, never had any been trained in its use. Then Nistaran spoke, saying,
“Train me, if you will, lord. And I will go with you to the mountains
of the north.” But Kalindreré said, “I would not leave
the Briën Amir, home of my fathers, least of all now when it is endangered.
I will stay here and train my brothers in the bow that we might not be defenseless
when these enemies come.” So Lehvandar was pleased, and he took Nistaran
and some of his kindred and led them by secret paths to the northern mountains
that were later named the Molfethen, for Nistaran’s people inhabited
the highest peaks and made them their home. There he trained Nistaran in the
use of Magic and he became the first of all Miri. Then did Nistaran take thought
to a new weapon, and he began to fashion Kirmandes, that blade of fire that
has been the bane of much evil on Gilalion. And of all this Veirakai knew
nothing. Then Veirakai ordered the Nohr to assemble before the Brien Amir
and there await his commands. He ordered that they invade the hallows of the
Brien Amir, and they obeyed, despite the nameless fear that fell on them as
they entered, for the fear of Veirakai was stronger upon them than the dread
that lay before them. Thus did the Nohr enter the virgin forest, and there
was shed the first blood upon Gilalion. Prepared by Kalindreré and
armed with their sturdy bows the Elves held their own, but they could not
drive back the Nohr, for the Nohr had weapons of steel, having learned smith-craft
of Veirakai. Then did Lehvandar seek out his brother Veirakai, to ask of him
steel weapons for the Elves and to know where the Nohr had learned smith-craft.
And Veirakai rejoiced to see his brother coming, for he had longed to destroy
Lehvandar. And when Lehvandar appeared before him, fearing nothing, doubting
nothing, Veirakai called him to his forge. So Lehvandar obeyed, saying, “My
brother, I crave swords of you, weapons of steel, for the Elves are hard pressed.”
And Veirakai replied, “One sword at least you shall have, my brother.”
And turning from the flames of the forge he struck down Lehvandar with his
greatest masterpiece, the first sword ever forged. And the sword shattered
even as Lehvandar’s innocent blood touched it. Thus was Veirakai’s
greatest work destroyed. Not even Feflorian, the dark blade he crafted in
after days, could approach the glory of this, the work of his innocence. But
Lehvandar, too, was slain, and his spirit fled the Odarim. Thus first of the
Eídel and Tol-aderi did Lehvandar depart the Odarim, and he entered
the presence of Ulië.
When Lehvandar was dead, then Veirakai caused his Deithken to join with the
Nohr in their attack upon the Brien Amir. Then indeed would the Elves have
been defeated, had not Nistaran completed Kirmandes. He gave it to his brother,
Kalindreré, greatest warrior among the Dal-Kalen, and with this sword
of fire and the Magic of Nistaran the Elves swept back both the Nohr and the
Deithken. And the Nohr and the Deithken forsook the Brien Amir, never to enter
it again. Thus did the First Battle end in victory for the Elves. After the
battle, Nistaran returned to his mountains in the north, dwelling there so
long as he lived. But Aeirakai mourned the death of her brother Lehvandar,
for she had loved him most dearly of all her brothers. And she withdrew to
the red moon Kerolebos, and she dwells there still, looking out into the Odarim
where her father still is. Never since the death of Lehvandar have the feet
of Aeirakai touched the soil of Gilalion. Now the Dal-Kalen began to take
thought of weapons, for they feared another attack by the Nohr. They took
the swords of those Nohr they had slain, and from these models they began
to craft weapons. Their first efforts were clumsy indeed, and many thought
that Magic was required to fashion these blades. But Nistaran, with the wisdom
of Lehvandar, revealed to them that only fire was necessary. Thus did the
Elves begin their study of Veirakai’s craft, and indeed among the Elves
there was one born whose forged creations rivaled those of Veirakai himself.
And the Elves, too, had swords. And it came to pass that after the First Battle
that Veirakai brooded for a time in the fortress he had fashioned beneath
the mountains east of the Briën Amir. Aeirakai still lived in defiance
of his lordship, and this troubled him. But she dwelt on Kresek’s moon,
never leaving her contemplation of the Odarim. And after a time Veirakai said
to himself, “My sister has abandoned Gilalion. She will depart no more
from Kerolebos. Thus here I am King and ever shall remain so.” So he
was satisfied. Then he turned his attention once more to the Elves, and he
watched them. But the Elves were wise. For long they did not leave their hallowed
forest, instead fortifying it against another assault. And they made Kalindreré
King over them all. He had no court of nobles, nor did he govern overmuch.
He ruled gently, for the Dal-Kalen obeyed the laws of the forest, and strife
was not common to them. Nistaran did not remain in the Briën Amir, however.
He was faithful to the designs of Lehvandar, and he returned to the Molfethen
in the north. There he lived out his days, writing down much of what Lehvandar
had taught him. There are those who say that the script he used was his own
invention, but the truth is that Lehvandar taught it to him, for Alaxton had
designed it. And Nistaran taught this script to many others, both in the Brien
Amir before he returned to the Molfethen, and in his own mountain home. Thus
all Elves share a common script. For a time the northern Elves, who took the
name Arkastanai, meaning ‘ones led out,’ lived without a King
or ruler, but as the years passed they began to fear the Nohr who lived so
near. So they called for a King. Now some said that Nistaran should be made
their King, but he refused this honor, saying, “I have no wife, nor
shall I ever have, for the work I do will occupy all my days. Therefore choose
another to be your King.” So they took one of Nistaran’s close
kin, a wise and noble Elf by the name of Firith, and he was crowned King.
Now the Arkastanai began to build strongholds on the mountain tops, and the
largest two of these became great cities in after days. The first and greatest
was the city where Firith dwelt and where Nistaran passed his days. It was
called Liratelvan, the Morning Palace, and it is the first city of the Elves.
But the Arkastanai wandered still farther north, and there they founded Ilaniek,
Cold Glory, the northernmost settlement of Elves or Men. Thus the Arkastanai
have dwelt in cities from the first, while the Dal-Kalen have none.