Title & Chapter Number: Of Elves and Myths Series: Man Caro Nín Henib Tíra? (What Do My Eyes See?) 1/1
Author(s): - Author's Index
Fandom: Tolkien/Mythology
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Certain familiar characters belong to Tolkien or to Peter Jackson in this case though you could say his name belongs to fans, others to various cultures, I think you know which ones. I do not know any Elvish really... the title I pieced together from using Dragon Flame (though I do realize it's Sindarin, and I'm not entirely sure the Elves of Lothlorien speak Sindarin most... *puzzled look*)... half asleep I might add. Hopefully it's right. I make no money.
Warnings: None
Betas: Gypsy
Cast: Malpomaen
Timeline: TA
Spoilers: Nope
Summary: Malpomaen has a very odd encounter one morning.
Notes: I'm sure if they don't have to, they don't sleep on the ground as it'd make very uncomfortable traveling muscles on the ship. But I rather like the idea of the Elves camping out the night before they leave Middle-earth behind forever. Kind of a saying good bye to the nature they've lived with for centuries before they go home.
First off, just to head off any assumtions, these stories are not about the mythology of the Elves. They are stories containing mythology, sometimes combined, from Greek, Roman, Slavic, etc. cultures and incorporated into tales featuring Elves.
Second, there is no order to these as I write. Some take place during the War of the Ring, some take place after, some will probably take place before it. Others, still, aren't set in a specific time. The time setting is decided simply by what ideas come to me.
SPECIAL THANKS: To Gypsy for beta reading, Moran Le Fay is quite dear to her, no matter her form.
Malpomaen was not the first to awake that morning, but he wasn't the last. He rose and stretched, his gaze looking over the quiet activity of others Elves who were already awake. Some were chatting as they made breakfast, others were packing their things together, or brushing their horses. Some looked relieved to be there, others looked unsure. The journey to the Grey Havens to depart for Valinor affected everyone differently. Malpomaen, himself, was relaxed about it. Though he would cherish many memories of his life upon Middle-earth, he felt like he was going home. He frowned as he looked out over the sea. Yet, he also felt like he was leaving it.
He quickly dressed and quietly wandered along the water's edge, seeking a place to be alone for a while. He had walked some distance when he found a welcoming spot, littered with bolders of various sizes. He lightly stepped up onto one and sat down, pulling a few broken pieces of lembas from the pouch on his belt. He slowly ate as he sat there, watching the sea birds play tag over the sea.
As he watched, his eyes began to watch a spot some distance out to sea where, hovering just above the water, an image was slowing coming into focus. It seemed to grow as it took a sharper appearance. Soon, he could make out the many turrets adorning a magnificent castle. However, it did not look like any style of achitecture belonging to any race he'd ever come across and especially not of this age. Though beautiful to look upon, it seemed to be a simple style, like that of long, long ago before the races had learned to express themselves through their building.
Movement brought his attention to a particular corner tower and he watched as it began to change shape into something else. It looked to be that of a figure. A figure that seemed to be suddenly much closer than the tower it had been a moment before.
His jaw fell open as the figure fully materialized into a woman. Long, black hair hung past her shoulders and for a moment it reminded him of the long seaweed under the water; wavy tendrils that danced with the waves. She was looking right at him, her dark eyes holding a magic that he'd never quite seen in any of the Firstborn, even Galadriel. She wore a heavy, black cloak that hid any view of what she might be wearing underneath.
He was suddenly aware that she seemed closer than she had before and it dawned on him she was walking towards him. Well, gliding was more like it. He could not see her feet because of the cloak so she appeared to just float across the water towards him.
Slender hands slithered out from underneath the cloak, pushing it open and revealing a deep, purple gown. She lifted the hem of her cloak and gown up to step off of the water to the sand of the beach.
It dawned on Malpomaen that he must've looked like a gaping fish and abruptly closed his mouth. This earned him a mysterious and beautiful smile from the dark lady. The wind came upon them suddenly, lifting her hair a bit, though she did not seem to mind. Whoever she was, she was no Elf.
"Are you usually so rude to a lady?" Her voice was dark and sultry, yet warm and friendly at the same time.
He shook his head as he hastily jumped to his feet, a slight blush creeping across his cheeks. He gave her a low bow. "Forgive me, m'Lady. It is just that... well, it's not a usual way to see someone approach."
She gave him a nod. "Then, perhaps, it is I who should ask forgiveness."
He gave her a small smile. "Nay, you need not ask it of me, but may I ask who you are?"
She walked over to one of the smaller rocks and sat down upon it like a queen; with such regal posture and an air of authority and power about her. "Of course. It is refreshing in a way to meet someone who does not know who I am."
He frowned with puzzlement. Had he missed some part of his teachings as an Elfling? "Do many know you here? I must admit ignorance."
She laughed and a sincere smile spread across her lips. "Not here, no. I doubt any live now who have seen me."
He frowned even more. What was that supposed to mean? He tried to look casual as he looked around... just in case.
She seemed to know what he was thinking. "It has been the race of Men to whom I come to most. They have a tendency to die off after a while." He let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Your kind, Master Elf, do not need much outside help. You hold a magic all your own." She stood up then. "I have yet to make myself known to you. My name is Morgana."
He gave her another bow. "I am called Malpomaen. I am pleased to meet you."
Her eyes twinkled amusedly. "Yet another thing I like about this world, all are pleased to meet me."
He had, of course, guessed by now, even without the way she talked about, 'this world,' that she was not from here. "They are not pleased to see you where you come from?"
"No." She shook her head a bit sadly. "Though I have done both good and bad deeds, it is the bad they remember quicker and for far longer."
He didn't quite know what to say to that so he just nodded and smiled. There was an odd, but not uncomfortable, silence between them for a moment as she seemed to stare off into the past.
"What brings you here, m'Lady?"
Her dark eyes focused on him and she smiled. "I come to bring you this." She reached into her cloak and brought forth something wrapped in cloth. She handed it over to him.
He was puzzled, indeed, but he took it and slowly unwrapped it. Inside was a book, beautifully bound in green and gold binding. There was no title on the book. He lifted the cover and gasped at what met his eyes. An exquisitely detailed drawing of an overhead view of Imladris lay before him. It was so well done, he would have sworn he was looking at the real thing. He turned the next page. Elrond sat in his Council chair, looking the grumpiest Malpomaen had ever seen him and again, it was so lifelike. He let out a low laugh. The next several pages yielded views and scenes he knew and treasured from Imladris. Others still showed many things outside of the place he had called home for so long. The woods of Lothlórien, Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel, the Anduin and onto Mirkwood, Thranduil and Legolas. There were also drawings of each of the members of the Fellowship. The city of Gondor. The Shire. The book was filled with Middle-earth.
Malpomaen wasn't even aware of the tears silently rolling down his face until his sight became blurry and he hastily closed the book so the pages wouldn't get wet. He looked up at Morgana with a sorrowful, yet happy and touched look, on his face.
Clasping the book tightly to his chest, he took to one knee before her, grasping her hand and kissing it. "You have given me a great gift. Though I would always have the memories with me, I can actually take the old home to my new one. How can I ever thank you?"
She touched her other hand to his head. "You already have. Treasure it well, Malpomaen." She gently pulled her hand free and turned back to the sea.
He stayed there, watching her grow smaller, as she walked upon the water like the Elves could walk upon the snow, until she suddenly was not there. She had simply vanished and her castle with her. He wiped his face off and took a few deep breaths. A deep horn blew down the shoreline and he clutched the book tighter. It was time. The ship was ready to depart. It was time to leave this Middle-earth.
The End
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