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Conversations in Doriath

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Walküre:

--- Zitat ---ÑOLOFINWË: ''All-Powerful Regent, we invoke thee in need and despair,
With thee only our true faith resteth, in death and toil,
My hope believeth, this plea of ours shall reach thee via thy breezes,
Upon the highest peak of Arda, where all thou beholdest and Snow-White Varda heareth.

I beg for thy pardon, King of the Powers beyond the sea,
Guilty we are of terrible crimes and thy rule we have foolishly forsworn,
Lone our kind the mortal shires now guardeth,
We shall perhaps retrieve the Jewels and the Dark Vala eventually defeat.''
--- Ende Zitat ---

Walküre:
Even the High Elves of Aman need rest after a long journey and such a lively banquet. Rooms are naturally assigned to the guests. Nerwen is given a room in the most external halls of the palace, from whose windows one may behold the wonders and vigilant solace reigning in the forests of Doriath. From one of these windows, she has some words to hand over the fresh air of the night.

NERWEN: ''Far we are. A sea divideth us. Deadly ice in the North. The way seemeth to have been shut for any repented soul that could be willing to travel back. And challenged I am too, mother of silver composure. Torn inside I am, for the love of our dear we cannot sense, if not through imagination and vivid reminiscences. I hope all is faring well, upon the thrones of Kôr which to you now belong, beloved parents. Yet my flame is nonetheless nourished by the breezes of this mortal continent. Freedom. Much freedom, that sometimes maketh thee feel new sensations and an unknown force, to the point that I may not continue talking about it. How could all these wonders manage to survive without any rule or order that them commandeth? Beauty always findeth a way, albeit in great peril and in hostile fate. This Middle-earth taught me; the flower that blossomed in adversity ought to be cherished and greatly defended.''

Walküre:
GALADRIEL: ''Hither we went, after indescribable perils. Death among our dear kind and beloved gentle faces that take their last breath in this world. Sad, unceasing and implacable the march across the frozen surfaces of those deadly ends. The path which the mightiest of the holy kind only may pass unspoiled. I never imagined that our blood could have resisted such fatigue. The Elven kind is probably apt for the unthinkable quests. And hoping to conquer back what was unjustly stolen, from the hands of the Evil incarnated, is indeed a thought that most of the wise Eldar would dismiss. Yet we are moved by our adamant determination and gallantry. The gallantry of the one that knoweth piety and acteth for justice; no matter the consequences. And the rule of Kôr of many towers we desire to establish over this wilderness of voices and memories. Only the ingenious Noldo might give a reason to sheer lands and a shape to what shape doth not have.''

Walküre:
But rule is found in purity and good will, my Princess. A spirit of gentleness and justness that some of the Noldor lacked. Don't you remember, proud maiden, the curse that was cast and the oath that was sworn? They shall chase the Blacksmith's House in perpetuity, until those gems are in their possession or the impious souls that spoke those words have their own life taken, mourning in desperation and regretting vengeance. Many deeds and events are still on the horizon of time; sorrows that are yet to poison the gardens of the Eldar in Beleriand. There is a common foe that all ought to contest, in alliance and unity, for naught could stand on the immortals' way. But the weed of discord grows fast and spreads across the land. The control of these lands is a too much ardent of a desire for some to give up resentment and join the fight. Who has the dominion of those three bright jewels shall determine the fate of the Hither-Lands. Only, should the Jewels be destined to disappear or in inaccessible places to be kept, what will eventually be of Beleriand?


Hither-Lands refers to Beleriand; another name with which those territories are known. The title reflects the perspective of the people of Aman, to whom Beleriand is the closest ('hither') mortal land.

Walküre:
Mandos, in the mysterious halls of his realm, in the westernmost shires of Aman, has been informed of the pleas from the other shore by Manwë and Varda. He has some answers.

MANDOS: ''Regret and grief? I know that ye suffer now, Noldor. Your fiery hearts, rekindled and burnt by your longings, begin to understand. A Vala would not ignore forgiveness and repentance, yet the hour is still early. Ye have not drunk yet the glass of tragedy which your gruesome deeds caused. Ye ask in vain. Proud Noldo, hearken, salvation shall come at the latest time, when a herald of the Children of Ilúvatar shall beg our pardon for thee and the mortal blood. Until then, more thou art to face and survive.''

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