CHAPTER 1
DÔR ANNON
Across the sparkling
Enchanted Sea sailed a gray ship whose white sails shone like flames of pure
light. Its stature and beauty was great and seldom seen by the eyes of mortals.
Beautiful and sad were those who sailed upon it, bright were their eyes and
their locks of hair long. The company was of elves who belonged to an ancient
race: the Erathiel. They were greatly known in their lands as skilled warriors,
wise, and immortal—a common trait among the elven kind, but due to their different
origins, a mixture of elven races, they possessed skills that were quite
different from their ancestors.
Among them were also those of mortal blood—the few that had
survived the voyage and the storm. Not all had perished from the darkness that
had spread over the land they had once called their home. There were two
dwarves, Bazur and Nurunn—husband and wife—and a human child, a little girl
they had named Telwen at birth, meaning in the elvish tongue: the last
woman. They were a curious sight among the Erathiel. The dwarves barely reached
the tallest elf at midbody, which was the usual height for the dwarven people,
and the little girl was the same height, as well. They were all that was left
of their mortal race.
It was only when the first lights of morning were being gently
kindled upon the land that the ship came to the harbor. Who had built the
harbor was a complete mystery to them. Yet it stood there, lonely, but true. It
had been heard that near the ends of the world there was a new land—wild and untamed—so
surely it must have inhabitants, they thought. Many had braved the sea’s might
and perished seeking this new land for a promise of a brighter path, but there
were always some that the Lord of the Sea favored and allowed to pass, almost
always at a price. The Erathiel were skilled sailors, but the journey had been
rough and the Lord of the Sea had claimed more than one life. The ship’s sails,
once flawless and smooth, shone bright, but carried the scars of the winds that
attacked that night.
On the mast of the ship sat a silver bird who scouted above and
below—his eyes were a penetrating black. It surveyed the land without movement
but with the patience that only those of many lifetimes show; a symbol of
beauty and stealth. Two elves dressed in gray, each with a thin rope in their
hands, tied one end to the ship and the other to the harbor. To the untrained
eye the rope seemed easy to cut or break, but having been made with the warrior
hands of the Erathiel it could survive a tempest. Their eyes looked to the land
they had come to and only confusion could be found in those deep pools of
light. The idea of this new land had not been of a deserted one, but of one
where they could begin anew—where they could cultivate their home once more.
A significantly tall elf with the build of a warrior, dressed in
shades of grey and green, stepped onto the deck. His eyes fell on the two that
had tied the ship to the harbor and he thanked them with a gentle nod. His name
was Thinidiel, Lord of the Erathiel, keeper of their ancient ways. He had led
them into battle a thousand times and saved them from death just as well. He
had also led them on this voyage, this search for a new home, not to wander or
be lost at sea. Thinidiel looked to the mast where the silver bird kept watch
and like a swift cloud he came down and sat on his shoulder—the bird’s wings
and its master’s hair the same bright silver color.
“Silme,” said Thinidiel gently to the bird as he pulled out a
treat from a hidden pocket. Silme gave a gentle bow before accepting it and
remained on the elven king’s shoulder as he fed.
The Elf King looked away from the ship towards this new deserted
land and spoke with slight disappointment, “Far have we strayed from that which
we had hoped to find, my friend.” Silme looked into his eyes as if trying to
give him comfort, for it had not been a pleasant journey to withstand.
Just when they all thought that the journey had come to its end,
they were struck by a terrible storm that took the life of many Erathiel,
humans, and dwarves, for it had not been only one ship that had sailed to find
a new world, but three. The wind and the waves, the lightning and rain, had
destroyed one and separated them from the other. Some had lost their lives
before the ship had fallen and some as it was torn apart and sucked into the
depths of the sea. Silme had spread his wings wide to shield them from harm,
but he could not save them all. More than one had asked themselves why the Lord
of the Sea had not claimed their life and why it took their brothers and
sisters with such cruelty. They had all shed their tears, but the elves were
the ones to wipe theirs first, for their race—since the first elf walked on the
face of the Earth—is doomed to die from sadness. Should they give into the pain
of loss, heartbreak, their lives would come to an end with no sword’s aid. How
they envied the mortals’ ability to cry and not die.
Thinidiel walked among his people, greeting them all with what
happiness he could muster. Everyone had lost someone, but he knew he had to
help them by standing strong, by encouraging them to look towards a brighter
future and the hope of the lost ship returning to them. At times he would look
away into the sea with a glimmer of hope in his silver eyes.
It was then, when he looked away from the sea and back to the
ship, that his eyes met two little green ones. It was Telwen, the young human
girl, standing right in front of him. She looks so fragile, he thought. To
think that she is the only human left. How lonely her heart must be. She is
just like my little girl was.
Telwen looked up at the elven king, his height immense in
comparison to hers. She looked paler than usual and under her eyes rested dark
shadows. Thinidiel approached her and kneeled so as to meet her eyes—the King had
always been humble with all he met. Telwen lowered her eyes from his silver
ones and hugged her arms.
“You are shivering, Telwen,” spoke the King, “Do you feel ill,
child?”
Telwen still looked away from the king as she answered with
hesitation, “I do not know, King Thinidiel.”
“May I look into your eyes?” asked he.
Telwen hesitated once more, but slowly began to turn her face
towards him until their eyes met. He looked into them with deep concentration,
as well as all of her face and hands. She does looks ill, but it must be
from all she has suffered, he thought.
“You are only worn out from the journey, Telwen. Please rest in
one the wagons when we part and eat well.” He gave her a warm smile as he rose
to stand once again—his silver hair moving gently along with him.
“Thank you, King Thinidiel. I will,” replied Telwen as she too got
up and walked towards a group of young elves.
There were still many inside the ship, including animals—horses,
tamed wolves, and hunting birds. Some had remained on deck during most of the
journey and others below in their cabins. Never before had the elves built
ships so large, but they were meant to carry what was left of their world.
Whether they stood above or below, they all wanted to step out of the ship and
to walk on the new land they would call their home. One by one, beast or not,
they came up to the deck and looked upon the new land. They stopped once their
eyes fell on the landscape. It was nothing, but an endless dry desert. Afar
there were mountains, but there was not grass to walk upon. King Thinidiel,
noticing the surprise in their eyes, the concealed disappointment, stood before
his people and spoke out.
“My people,” he began, “my friends, do not be discouraged by what
lies ahead. Yesterday we had no land to walk upon, but today we have been given
the chance to walk once again. Think not of this desert as the end, but the
beginning of our greatest adventure. From this moment this land shall be known
as Dôr Annon, for it is a land where many doors shall open before us.”
The Erathiel, the dwarves, and Telwen—even the animals—seemed
mesmerized by the Elven King’s words. Among them stood an elf of lesser height
than some, though their heights were varied, who was cloaked in robes of indigo
and deep green. Her eyes were a beautiful emerald color and her skin was light
and had a glow about it like moonlight. She was Queen Tin Nimtar, wife
to King Thinidiel, and his partner in all manners. She had been walking among
them, seeing to their needs, and their hearts. She had a special touch, for
with simply holding one’s hand she could take away their greatest sorrow.
Whether she stored this sorrow or if she simply eliminated it from the world,
was unknown to all, but she seemed always calm and collected—even when facing a
loss of her own.
“And so it shall be,” spoke Queen Nimtar as she approached her
husband, taking his hand. “We shall walk upon this earth, we shall search and
we will find. Do not fear, for you are not alone.”
Thinidiel’s face shone
with pride as he watched his wife speak and as their eyes met she returned his
smile. Together they turned around to be the first to walk down to the harbor
and to step on the desert sand. Everyone else followed.
No comments:
Post a Comment