Iluvauromen myths and legends

Contained herein are several major Iluvauromen myths and legends, not always in complete form.

The Great Journey And The Early Years - From 'An Examination and Deliberation Upon The Book of The Stars'

IT WAS DURING A TIME OF great peace and calm didst The People find their being opened unto them by the Lords of the West come again. Not under leaf and star did the Quendi to Become, who would upon their time findeth their own flesh and that of their kin changed to that which they would come to call Nenyan, suspect before that Doom was upon them that it should be they whom Manwë himself should seek.

For not of wisdom or lore great did the Quendi to Become possess; nor were't all their tongues of unequalled or swiftest wit, nor their minds sharper or greater than any others that did live among the Noldor of the land of Menelmacar. Nay, largely the lowest of the low were they, in the great ordering of that high society that was unseen to he who looked with the scales of Atani standards upon his eyes; with scales lifted yet, lo! they who were to Become were lowest of the low.

And in that land there lived he who by his Sindarized mother-name was then known as Turnen, but whose father-name was Nendilinwë, for though his father was named Gil-romen before him, his father had the foresight indeed of his mother. He had a brother in Líconwë, 'he who waxes' or 'he who grows strong', and a sister in Nyényë, 'she who weeps'. Near the shore and close on to the city of Arasgor lived did these Noldor, in a community of fellows that took part not in the machinations of the Menelmacari Empire, preferring instead solitude and quiet, many yearning for the immortal shores of Aman but bound by the Doom laid upon them. Prisoners of Ambar for ever unless they should die and their eternal blood leak forth upon mortal soil, they sank into soft and melodious musical pursuits, lyrical masters of the sad and the lost, dreamers lost in their buried hope for the Halls of Mandos, such was their ache for Aman.

And it were upon the shore of this land, looking out at the water twixt the land of Menelmacar and the place to the West, eyes caught yearningly upon the sea which could no longer bear his people across the Straight Road, did he often stand, gazing forth yet not seeing. For the mountainous land across the way had oft been ignored by the Menelmacari Noldor, for it seemed to them a barren and unforgiving place, not like their wonderous forests of greenery surrounded by beautific rolling waves. Now at one time did Turnen have his gaze redirected, by a sight he had not chanced to see in all his lengthy days; upon the shore across the way his eye espied a great giant, clad in apparel of the like that even the highest earthly king could not dream into existance. Upon a whimsy not of his nature, he cried out, his voice carrying not to the ears of mortals for that distance.

Not so were it for the giant that turned his mighty gaze, and was borne up upon a mighty chariot of spraying water, carried by an unseen hand, it seemed, across to Turnen's shore.

"Thou art Nendilinwë Turnen, for ye greet thy King in the expected name. Turn thine gaze unto the splendid heights before thine eye, Nendilinwë, and take from thy King thine truest calling, although thine mother and father hath named thy doom well enough: thou art to be King Ahyanë et Tumnorë, for thy Doom and the Doom of thine kinsfolk is for ever sundered from the Doom of the Noldor; but thee and thee alone of thine Kin shall see the deathless shore. Yet for ever know thy King's face: he is Súlimo. - Go now unto thine Doom, son of the line of Finwë, and speak ye as ye will."

And Turnen was sore afraid of the mighty voice when it did first speak, yet he found his fear calming as he gave up his attention, and remembered the words of his father, when he did speak of the Lords of the West. For Nendilinwë his father had seen the light of the Two Trees, yet Turnen had entered the world far from Aman. It seemed to him greatly that he had not known whom he had set eyes upon, and yet he had cried the name as if the knowledge had been inside him all along, awaiting the loosing of its leash. He found not a word to speak, and so bowed his head and fell to his knee, trusting that no word was required of him.

And upon the final dropping of the Sun below the horizon, Her light fading and giving way to the early height of the waxing Moon, upon only that actual moment did Ahyanë let his head arise to see if Súlimo stayed before him still. Vanished from sight was the giant who had been lifted across the sea by the very waves themselves; he fled unto his kin, and there was well received, for they were awaiting his mastery of the harp. Without its sounds our music was weak, his sister did cry to him, as ever bursting with emotion. Yet upon the calling of his name he declared what Súlimo had said, and lo!

They did look upon one another with amazement, for not one among them had the eyes they had possessed before. Amber were their eyes, one and all, and all world-weariness did flee; vital again they felt, and far from fear they rejoiced that night and many to come, lingering on in bright celebration in the land they had lived so long.

And yet again their hearts did grow weary, and they did look afar and afield for whence they might shift their feet unto; for their land became old and cold to their spirit, as the eye to the painting becomes sore if stared at overlong; and Ahyanë was visited by night by visions of a great height of rock, arising from vibrant valleys and great green trees aroundabout. And unto his people he rendered this vision, and a great yearning came upon them; the mountains across the sea they sought, for to their heights they were inexorably drawn. Did they swiftly build such ships to bear them that they came upon that shore rapidly enough to appease their ache it cannot be said, for such things are not known to all; yet upon arrival they were down in spirit, and gazed back at the homes they had left with much sadness.

"Lo! we are arrived," some did cry, and Ahyanë was quick to prove them not correct in word; in deed, said he, let us prove we have arrived - not by what say we. And so as he slept the visions came again, and onwards did they move. Not one nor many were hurt along the way, although strife did befall them from time to time; yet always under the hand of some great protecting force did they seem to be. And quickly did they discover that they were changed not just in eye; for amber were their eyes, but bronzer were their bodies: the sun warmed and darkened their skin as it did the Atani, now, but not all the same. Some were merely less than pale, while others darkened further; diversity spread throughout the kin of Ahyanë, yet of no fear do their songs sing.

And thus did the Journey of the People begin.

For it was indeed only begun, and not concluded, as some had claimed. But the voice of Ahyanë proved mighty in this matter, and many others; and the others were wont to bow before his now great voice. Yet his words were ever gentle, and ever did he grow unto the vision of a true king; his light brown hair, evidence of the lineage of his his mother, who had been of the Vanyar and not as his father, a Noldo. Ever the brighter than its former dull brown form was the sight of his crown of soft brown hair, reaching well past his shoulders in freedom from bondage. And in this new form he found yet more than he had been before; for his weariness was gone indeed, but more and more he found inside his self a greater force than words alone.

For he had been gifted with what he named and announced to all as the Art of fëahirnna, 'to taste the soul', and in his initial arrogance he declared that he alone had been gifted. But these words were proved untrue; all of the Kin had or were discovering such an ability within themselves.

And thus did the Kin suffer the First Sundering.

Yet although this division did occur, those who doubted now the wisdom and guidance of Ahyanë followed him still; for the night-visions were visiting upon all of the Kin, and his claim that they were to find this place had enough weight to crush any suggestion that it ought be ignored.

Now let it not be said that the Kin did follow blindly, for many did the evening fall that found argument firing the spirits of those who gathered at the fire whence the Kin had came to rest. Strongest of the voices against Ahyanë was that of his brother Líconwë, but strongest of his supporters was the radiant Herenya, whom had caught Ahyanë's eye.

Madly in love with her did he fall; and once did she refuse him when he requested a lock of her hair; but he did pursue her with song and poetry and lyrical sounds from his harp; and her heart, already long won in truth, begged her mind to accept his love at last. And against Ahyanë et Tumnórë and Arelendol Herenya none could stand; for their love gave them strength beyond any who would stand alone - and none who would rise against them in word or deed were unified in heart as they.

Thus ended the First Sundering; for as the river of time swept through its many tributaries along their Journey, it returned ever to the great channel that guided it ever forth unto the end.

And whenst they came upon a great lake as yet unnamed, they did wonder at its splendour, and greatly did many yearn to stay; but sighting of Atani nearby, fierce-looking, uncivilized and suspected to be wildly violent - the sounds they made did make some of the Kin sore afraid. For not certain were they of their new Doom; and the Halls of Mandos did not seem so near at hand as they once had. Yet besides this fear many did yearn to remain, and named the lake most fondly Aelinenya; the Second Sundering was swift at hand, so soon after the first had split the Kin asunder in their desires. But not alike to the first was the Second, for it were but a matter of days afore the Kin found their spirits soaring all and one again. The lake they left far behind, trekking to the north wherein their night-visions seemed to lay; yet some had curious, darker night-visions as they moved through that mysterious, green and pleasant land. The land did recall to them Menelmacar, for they were of two sides of one stone; the upper bright and civilized, known unto the Sun's light, who took comfort in Her rays - the lower unknown and silent, as yet unknown to the light of the Kin. For they had long left the Eastern mountains behind them, and were and had been out of sight of Menelmacar for some time. Yet in the sky did they look so often, and many sightings of Menelmacar the shining star and his proud belt were to be found. And those who found an ache in their heart for the land they had left were reminded, and comforted by the eternal reminder of home to be found in the heavens above.

Yet the Journey, fraught as it was with peril ever at hand, was a happy, joyous occasion. For all along their route did they sing, giving praise up before Eru at the change his singing lips had wraught amongst them. For none did miss the poignant point, the clear and present truth: a Lord of the West had visited unto them, to deliver the message - but the deed itself had deeper import. New, more vibrant songs were sung, and deemed greatly beautiful by all; and all was good in the hearts of the Kin.

But on the seven hundred and thirty sixth day of their Journey, as they neared the farthest Northern coast of this new land, at last a weariness fell upon them, and to the ground each and every one did lay his head. A sleep they fell into, deeply absent and unknowing to the world. And whilst they slept this unnaturally calm slumber, a great ship did set-to in the waters to the north, and delivered unto the shore great longboats.

"Lo! what new strange thing is this?" went the cry of the mariners, their eyes unto the sleeping Kin alerted. For they were Teleri, not yet weary enough to seek the Straight Road, but sailing upon the sea they yearned for nontheless. Provisions they had stopped in this new land for, as they had no desire to seek the aid of the Noldor to the South-East. The cry did awake the host of the Kin, and did startle them greatly. But none that day were startled as the mariners, met with fiery eyes - and a host of near-Elves that vanished from their very sight.

Yet not for much did this disappearance count, for but a moment did they leave the sight of the keen-eyed Quendi. Quickly again they were found by the eyes of the mariners, whom had a leader amongst them. Bragoglindaegwaith! was his cry, and thus the Kin were named thereafter. They shared encampment and the word was passed, but the Teleri mariners took no word to Menelmacar, and so the change of the Kin was left unknown to the self-proclaimed Elentari of that Empire.

And afore long the mariners did depart, with kindly and well-disposed hearts to the Bragoglindaegwaith, whom they also named [i]Nenyan[/i]. For their movements were fluid, and they had been met alongside the sea; and so were the Teleri reminded of the sea in this new Kin to the Quendi: for as the sea they were pleasing to the eye, yet underneath the gentle waves of the Bragoglindaegwaith, was a heart of fiery countenance, displayed upon their eyes - that did indeed remind the mariners of the waves upon they sailed. And so in respect did the Kin become [i]Nenyan[/i].

Yet as the mariners departed, questions arose amongst the host; wherefore was the peak of which they dreamt? For they had travelled as far to the north as this land could carry them - would they now fashion ships and sail across the ocean yet again? But their king knew not as yet, and so to the surf did he come. Kneeling by one knee alone, a hand upon his thigh, the king did hear a voice carried forth - upon the sprinkling surf, and so to listen did he try. The words not apparent did become, but inspiritation had stricken him.

South-west thus did the travellers trek, over field and fell and unto the valleys seen in their dreams. At once, some decided to settle as they went, and the host was thus ever-diminishing. Yet these then followed on, unknown to the Kin who had kept moving. At Sundown they rested, and at Dawn they travelled once again; this pattern had they followed the entirety of their journey, every fall of the Sun below the horizon greeted by a peaceful slumber unto which all fell quickly. The night-visions continued, and then one full-travelled morning's end they broke through a line of trees shielding the crown of the hill they had up-clambered, and lo! there was the rise of a great mountain reaching up and surely scratching at the very top of the sky itself, with its invisible hand.

With their prize very much ahead their pace quickened, and rapidly to the foot of the mountain did they come. There they rested, and at last the night-visions - for the most part - ceased. But herein came the great event in the history of the Kin; at this night, each and every wife of the Kin conceived, and awoke with-child. Yet, it seemed, the greatest gift of the Nenyan Kin had been passed unto their children; for all were aware of the new life amongst them, and all could [i]feel[/i] their vibrant [i]óri[/i]. And so did the Quenta Nennóleminyo begin.

And unto the land they fell in all their number, the host of the Nenyan Kin, setting forth to begin the growing of crops to feed their hunger, for it had fallen upon them as a great blight. None could whatsoever remember such a tremendous need of food - nay, not even those whom had followed Faenor into Exile from Valinor. Yet crops grow but slowly, and in their discomfort they searched around about for plants upon whose meat they might feast; for greatly hungry were they, and in their haste they managed to disturb the wildlife thereabouts. Thus were those who occupied the land notified of their arrival; for not a bird had stirred until that day upon their prior voiceless passage.

And in that land lived an Atani tribe who named themselves the Munn-sh'da, who were greatly fierce in the affairs of war, and were great riders of horses; their horses would, it was said of them by the others thereabout, tread where none else would dare. Yet their horses, fierce and brave, were softened by the Nenyan gaze, and this stayed their masters hands. But for that it has been said, the past would have been greatly altered; but the Quendi and the horse have had a long and comfortable history, and none forget too soon upon their meeting, even when the Elves had changed unto the Kin. A vibrant discussion between the kings of the two peoples resulted in quiet dinner, a feast supplied by the hosts of the Nenyans in this land; although they had no claim upon this very land they had settled. Praise went to Eru among the Host, and greatly glad were their number.

Yet all good things fall to shadow, if tended not; and though a long peace lasted, eventually the Munn-sh'da grew forgetful of their friends; and when they did return to the land, it was with sword and shield and spear. The Nenyans had long since armed - this was not an entirely safe and civilized land, although quiet by compare to many dark and distant places, far away, elsewhere.

Unto shadow did the fields fall, under the dust of the hooves of the great horses of the Munn-sh'da; but a great many of that kind fell beneath the blades of the Kin, who took greater delight in the slaughter than they aught. Thus it was that unto their retreat the Atani fled - with stories of horror to tell, embellished with blood red.

And did the word spread greatly, the Kin were sore afraid, the Atani would come back - in greater numbers than they could face. Some way, they said, ought we to guard against; and a great new Art was founded, that none have bested in similar or instead. Few understood how it came to pass, but unto the plateau wherein the Nenyan Kin had made their home it came; and aroundabout it spread its wings, so none should trouble them again.

Alas! for the Atani came indeed, and flung themselves against the brightly lit and flaring light of the defence laid down; and many were sorely injured, and the Nenyan Kin were much put to shame. For even as the Munn-sh'da fled, their remaining warriors bloodied or dead - the wall was quite quite solid, and the Atani quite quite determined - the Nenya Kin could not find it to aid the injured ones; for they were too afraid.

Now of Nendilinwë Turnen who was named Ahyanë little enough has been said; more to tell there assuredly is. For of noble heritage indeed was the leader of the Nenya Kin, descended direct from that High King of the Noldor, his grandsire Gil-galad, through Gil-romen.his sire. And from Gil-galad son to Fingon, who in turn was son of Fingolfin, did he claim the heritage of Finwë, father to Fingolfin. Thus were three great Kings of the Noldor in his line, and thus was his claim to kingship of the Nenyan Kin.

And so his father was Gil-romen, meaning 'star rising', the artisan and swordsman; his mother Lothluin, 'Blue flower', the poet. For Gil-romen was wise indeed with his hands, and wraught many clever artifacts to ease the work of his kin for the day; and Lothluin eased their weary spirits with ascendant words of better days. Thus were his mother and father of high accord in and around Arasgor.

Now they had two sons and one daughter; the eldest of these was Ahyanë, who was born unto Lothluin in far earlier days than his siblings. In latter days, whence the Noldor remaining in Arda came to and settled in the land known as Menelmacar, were Líconwë and Nyényë come into the world. For they were twins, and yet were of minds sundered greatly; Líconwë was strong of heart and spirit, and full of the vibrancy of youth; but Nyényë was born as if one from elder days had come again to Arda, weary and yearning already for the deathless shore, although at racing from place to place there were none of her generation to equal her in speed; so was her lack of strength in matters of the heart alone. Thus was Nyényë ever at large in the green woodland around her home, and her sad voice uttered sungs of such a yearning ache for a land she had never seen that all who heard took pause in wonder; and whispers were taken up, questions raised regarding whence this older heart apparent had come.

Yet of Líconwë much different can be said; for although his hair was dark and thick and strong, and much alike in face as well to his sister was he, in heart and spirit he was found much different. For Líconwë was as alike his mother and his father as his sister was different; he revelled in the creation of new things, but was responsible still of little in the way of great deeds. For his gifts were too wide-ranging, and he fluttered from thought to thought as does the hummingbird in search of the sweetest nectar; and never did his heart settle. Thus was his mother name Rándil; and his sister was named by their mother Aiwë; and both were so named within mere days of their entrance into the world, for their mother was greatly gifted with foresight of that to come, and much did her poetry deal with such indeed.

And Líconwë (for though she loved her mother greatly, she did not much prefer the name Aiwë, 'little bird') indeed sang songs of beauty, sad though they were, but not for the pleasure of others. And in this she had sewn in her heart a seed of greater sadness indeed; for none she found to complete her, and none found her to complete them. Thus she was alone.

Now Rándil was much alike to his elder brother, Ahyanë, and often did they hunt together. And great hunters indeed both did become; yet by great misfortune a beast did slay Rándil err the sundering of the Kin from the Noldor. Thus Ahyanë was sadly of mind of his brother when in the new land, and when Arelendol Herenya gave forth his first son, he named him Randur. Herenya looked upon her first son with great sadness, for she, alike to Ahyanë's mother in her sight and also in her blood, for she was of the Vanyar in origin although of the Kin in kind; and Herenya gave no mother name to this son, proclaiming that no worthier name than that which had been given could be found. Ahyanë was much pleased, mistakenly, for he did not see the double meaning of the name; for not only could Randur be taken to mean 'wanderlust', but also 'loud servant'.

But when Herenya gave forth yet another child, within but nine seasons of the first, there was much rejoicing indeed; for she was not alone. A great many births occurred in those first years of the Kin, but the greatest of them all was the birth of he who was named by his mother Semír-randil. But his full name was Taurórë Semír-randil Hwinmacil; for Hwinmacil was the name given to him by other competitors in the Bladed Games, in which he oft showed great swiftness of motion. Taurórë, 'mighty heart', his father named him; his mother named him Semír-randil, 'jewel of wandering love'. Thus he was the mighty hearted jewel of wandering love, whom was great indeed with swiftness of sword.

And great rivalry there came between Randur and Semír-randil; but it was as a mighty river beating against a great rock unbreakable, for Randur indeed had the best of the loud defeat, and Semír-randil the best of the silent victory.

But Randur grew greatly jealous of the favour which his greater younger brother often received from his parents; they did not know that which they did, and a great and damaging evil was planted among the Tumnórëans. Yet evil words and deeds had been present since the very beginning, and a secret society of those who yearned to break the bonds which Ahyanë had placed upon the Kin in the creation of the great defensive barrier met in silence and spoke in treacherous tones of the day when they would oust the current line of leadership.

Now Randur did one day chance upon a flaw in the barrier, and had sewn great discontent over many seasons; now indeed did he reap a bountiful harvest, for fully three fifths of the Kin did leave through the flaw in the dead of night. But Randur was malcontent, and returned whilst the Kin who had followed him slept, and in the dark of night whilst his father slept, he committed a terrible crime; for he did slay his father, and stabbed at what he thought to be his mother. But his mother was abroad elsewhere, and indeed he merely stabbed the leg of his father. Ahyanë did pass unto the Halls of Mandos, as was his promise, although his departure brought great sorrow unto the Tumnórëans.

Thus were the Kin sundered one from another at last, into two hosts; and those that remained named themselves the Tumnórëans, who were faithful to the highest King, and who lost the name Nenyan to disavow from the treacherous act of Randur - and those that left to find their doom, the Nenyans.

But Tumnórë flourished still, under the wise hand of Herenya, who was troubled greatly by her husband's loss, and went down by the stream often to sing near the music uttered by the waters. And it is said that, after many seasons, Olmo took pity upon her, and bore her up and away to be by her husband again; for she was Vanyar at heart, and never had the change taken fullest root in her nor any of the oldest of the First. And after Herenya came Gil-romen, who had also been changed; and he took became King of Tumnórë and High King of all the Kin. Gil-romen had grown greatly weary, but this new task set upon him replenished his strength; and he set to devising a great fastness and city upon and within the great mountain upon which the Kin lived, Mount Tumnórë. Hidden beneath the upper city was delved a mighty fortress, built in such a manner as to be hidden even from he who knows where to cast his eye; and this indeed was among the great works of the Tumnórëans. And so great and splendid were the contours of the city that none would dare approach; and thus the barrier was removed, and the patient ones who had remained were greatly rewarded in the pleasant lands around their home.

Now Semír-randil son of Ahyanë and brother to Randur did heartily detest his brother for his act; yet he did not follow on immediately, despite his desire for vengeance. He stayed on in Tumnórë unti winter had passed, knowing well that the mountains to the south could sorely test even the hardiest soul during the cold months; thus was it that he feared for the lives of all whom had been foolish enough to follow Randur - and wondered whether Randur's despicable act was well-known amongst that group. Therefore he set out without company, fearing that a great dispute might erupt, should a great search be begun. He did not inform his grandsire, Gil-romen, of his intent; and long did Gil-romen mourn the loss of his one remaining descendant whom was worthy of his line.

And thus it came to pass that the Kin who had left Tumnórë came unto great strife, for their way was much blocked as they sought to find Aelinenya, their chosen destination, a land open and wide to the world and as far different from Tumnórë as a place could be - in this at least. And great hardship befell the journey; and some did turn back, foolishly fearing that the wrath of the Ainur was upon them; yet it was merely winter, and the biting cold and the fall of snow did make breaching the passages to the south most difficult indeed. Thus did the Nenyans arrive at a great cavern, and herein rested they whilst the winter pass'd; so did Semír-randil fail to find them, for his journey had begun before theirs did again, reluctant as they were to continue. Yet Randur spoke great words, and they did move forwards; yet it was seven and three days later than had Randur's brother. Thus he arrived at Aelinenya before them; for they did not arrive under Randur's leadership at all: he lead them astray, many leagues westwards of their goal, and only through the great art of Semír-randil were they found at all again. Weak and weary and fearful they were, when Semír-randil came upon them; and Randur became greatly afeared, for his brother's face was full of wrath; and some said that none that day would have dared stand against him, save Morgoth himself, perhaps. For great was the blood of Fingolfin, who dealt seven great wounds unto Morgoth, in the veins of Semír-randil; and his mastery at arms was bested by none, even though Gil-romen had great skill and longer years of lore.

"Were not for his fear, blood would have spilled upon this turf today," he did speak softly to one whom asked his will regarding his brother; greatly glad was she that Randur had fled, for greatly did she admire him, and none did quite understand what great misdeed had taken place: for Semír-randil had not brought tidings of the death of Ahyane yet.

And thus did Semír-randil take up the leadership of the Nenyans, and, fearing for them and holding himself responsible for his brother, he did lead them to their new home quickly and safely. And as this were in such contrast to the journey aforehand, many proclaimed that Semír-randil was surely chosen by the Lords of the West; for much talk of this type had grown up since Ahyanë had been visited unto: surely were the Valar greatly dismayed that their influence now was seen in all things.

Yet Semír-randil was not of such mind, yet he was of a mind to lead; for he knew that none other amongst those whom had left could fill the role required - and so he resolved to stay, to settle these people unto their new home, and then to depart thither, to return to his grandsire's realm; and thus did he tell the Nenyan Kin, who were greatly sorrowful at the loss of Ahyane. A small party was sent thither to the north, to pass on news; and a small party returned, for those who had gone wished not to return. In this way many moved north and many moved south, and some who had taken the journey returned; and some who had not taken the first journey came south; and thus a balance was reached. And the Kingdom of Nenya arose; and she did not need fear any, for her king was noble and peaceful, and won the respect of many of the Atani tribes aroundabout.

Thus did the Atani come to move towards civilized behaviour in this realm; for they were little more than savages err the arrival of the Kin. Very much did they learn; the smelting of iron, and the riding of horses not least among that which the Nenyans did teach: for in those days the word 'Nenyan' in that land became synonymous with 'teacher', although few indeed were allowed into the Kingdom itself.

And as the years passed, and Semír-randil grew comfortable as king beneath his grandsire, the High King of the Kin in the north, jealousy began to sprout; an evil seed indeed was planted amongst the Atani, for a voice whispered in their attentive ears, telling of much that that kind had no need to hear; and much afraid of the Nenyans did they become, and all semblance of peaceful communication all but ceased between the two. For Randur wandered far and wide, turning the Atani against his brother, hoping greatly for war; for if war should fall, then surely Randur might win back his place amongst his kind with great deeds of valour; and perhaps if his brother should fall, he might reclaim his place at the head of the Nenyan Kin. Thus that most evil sin was once again and yet again recapitulated in the Theme of Ages; true dischord entered the harmony of the existance of the Kin, and thus were they marred for ever.

Yet no war came, for Randur convinced the Atani tribes too well; they were sore afraid of the Nenyan Kingdom, and resolved to build a force with which to smash it. Thus did they do: they built a great army, many thousands strong, but did not bring its full force against Nenya yet; for a great plague fell upon them, and a great many were felled. Thus they licked their wounds, and many cursed the Nenyans for this great mischance; for they died not from the plague, and were ill not, and faltered not: for they knew no disease. Then years spun by, and the hatred for the Nenyans grew; many called for a unification of the tribes to match the ever-increasing might of Nenya, for Semír-randil sadly strengthened his garrisons. Sadly as he feared that doing thus would only antagonize the Atani, and he strived much for a peaceable solution; but alas: it was not to pass.

The Atani eventually did attack, and were greatly defeated by the superior arms of the Nenyan Kin; yet amongst the Nenyans many children were slain by many raids, for the Atani resolved to kill the Nenyan young and limit the next generation to a smaller size. Greatly enraged were the Nenyans, and out of covetice and malice did they hold a desire for revenge deep and fully in their hearts; and no words from Semír-randil could calm them; and so it began with his fall from the kingship - and so all of the great sorrows of the Kin that was to follow did commence. Yet of a great sadness did he depart, his puissance was not entirely diminished; and his presence was felt but quietly, quietly, carefully for and regarding much thereafter. For well and cleverly did he learn to insinuate his will unto the Kin; yet not well enough. And greatly did this requirement grieve him; for he was of a disposition to reject the untruth, for he did not forget the songs sung of his Kin; especially and ever did the methods of Morgoth recall to him, for much did his ways of forging peace seem alike. Yet he had little but no choice; for wherever his voice could sow harmony did - unnatural - death fail to prevail.

And thus it came to pass that the weird was fulfilled; crisply was the page of history that overturned, for many tears and defects came unto the other side at its passing; the hand of doom was gentle not. For of much agony and grief does the Quettanalraurya speak; not often did words of joy tremble forth from the lips of fate for the age known to the Nenyan Kin as Randanár, the Age of Flame. And tremble, it ought be said, indeed did the lips of the Kin for many a lonely season; for tears and pain and agony were but the phrases of the day. Yet of nothing of those nights do we whisper in song; they were fallow years, of grief that the whisper of passing joy could not marr or yet; not in memory are the moments of happiness, wherefore new life entered unto the world to the joy of all who Felt its arrival; nor the joy of the Call Discovered is told herein; not of the hallowed poetry and song of U?nyárima; nor of the great debate between a humbled Emperor and his slaves, which was named ever after the Vantaquettar, 'Walk of Words'; instead of which that which is said is spoken with regard the great sorrow that came before or after these blissful but achingly brief moments.

For the age named Randanár began as a great tide might fall upon a virgin shore when great forces heave the bosom of the ocean to and fro, sending fell waves hither and thither unto lands not knowing to the sea; for death in great number came to the Nenyan Kin, and they were indeed ill-equipped for its grasping sorrow.

For not did they know whence the dead did go; for it was not known if the Doom of Men was upon the Kin - or if Eru had bestowed some other gift. None had come whence the dead Nenyans must pass unto, so none could tell; and the Valar did not whisper in dreams or portents, or come and yield up lore; and it was named anew therefore. The word death as it had been was not again spoken by Nenyan lips - or at the worst, it was near as rare as a dawn seen shining in the east.

Death had been qualmë, 'agony'; yet in the new language, the High Nenyan, known to the kin as Tár-Nenya, the word became lysta - to 'not know'. Thus did the Kin shy from death as do the Atani; and this was but the first of the many similarities that did spring forth upon this doomed new season; and but the first way in which the Kin minished, for death was by far the greatest ruth that was to the Nenyans - but it was not found to be lonely.

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It must be noted that the word 'Atani' may be replaced with Human, and further it may be noted that the author of the book is known to be utterly trustworthy: for he was Noldor, and lived through those very days. It is unclear how the source came upon the information, however, as the text explicitly states that the Noldor were not aware of the Nenyan species at the times mentioned; this does remain a mystery.