Foremost among them was Víor whose eyes shone bright with a holy fire, for his mind was most akin to Telúmono’s own. Second to him came Áthru, and his thought ran deep and so his brow was lined with the care of many mysteries. Last came the Lady Mára, the most fair and most dear to her brothers. Her voice went forth in the sweet music of song, and the halls of Vínyoldë which Telúmono shaped to house his children, was filled with joy at the sound.
Once more Telúmono extended his thought into the Great Barrenness; and by the word of that thought was shaped Ankáia, the Lower World, for this he hung without the Paroth Ankáia, the arched window which looked out from Vínyoldë into Nerethnimlo.
For this was the shape of Arí, the Whole Worlds: Lebtámos was first and lay beyond all else, and it was the Outermost Void and truly Nothing, final and endless, until the day when Telúmono ordains to work anew the Worlds. Within Lebtámos, and yet not a part of it, was Vinyóldë, the Hallows of Telúmono and the Halls of the Vinyárni. And Vinyóldë encircled Nerethnimlo, which for a little while was the Inner Void, until Telúmono’s works filled it with light and life. Last was Ankáia, fairest and midmost of the Worlds.
Now, Ankáia was in shape like as vast, flat disc; and Telúmono clothed the new born world in trees and grasses and raised the massy ranks of mountains and cut the trenches of the sea upon its face, and breathed the first winds to stir across the wide spaces of the land.
He placed the beasts upon the land, and filled the sea with fishes and made the birds to ride the untamed air. And he made the Ilmáran, the fays of wood and mount.
And that Nerethnimlo would be empty no more nor without light as it then was, Telúmono fashioned the Skybarks, and set burning in each a great lamp to shine on Ankáia. And every ship was given to be piloted and every lamp to be tended to single helmsman each. The Arlóserri and the Ailósti they were called, the Greater and the Lesser.
Of the Ailósti, who were the lesser, there were numbers uncounted, and though Telúmono gave to each their own name, scarce few are remembered in the histories. But of the Arlóserri there were but ten and their names are held dear by all who watched the heavens.
There was Vrános, Watchman of the Day, his very sails and hull seeming to be alight with a glorious flame, yet never burning up. His lamp was Eilion, the greatest of all lamps. And there was Quë, his gentle wife, Mistress of the Night, for her lamp shone silver only when Vrános had lowered his fiery sails and passed beyond the rim of the world.
After her came Rástmu who dared take his ship in closer than any other to Vrános his lord. And also there was Silfeínyn of the Morning, second in beauty only to the Lady Mára herself. And there was Dindíol the Red-headed with his pale blade Draiglin; and doughty Lirósto; and Kilmárë with her shining garlands hung about her; and Tastúplë and his sister Tíntwiel; and distant Ilún, the last and least Arlóserrë. Indeed, some held that he was no Arlóserrë at all, but an Ailóstë.
All these were by Telúmono’s command set in their courses across the sky. And his work was good, and it was fair, but it was yet incomplete.
For when the Vinyárni saw the beauty of Ankáia they were enamored and sang of its wonder. And they said to each other; if only they might join together with their father in his labour and each add something to his work.
This pleased Telúmono well, for it was he who had first placed the thought in their minds. Thus it was that together they gave shape to the Three Races of Ankáia, the Rilthilan; and Telúmono gave them will and intellect and kindled life beneath their unliving flesh.
But when the Vinyárni had completed their work and saw how the fathers of the Rilthilan walked in gladness in the glades and fields of Ankáia, Áthru felt suddenly ashamed. For although they shaped the Rilthilan together, each race was formed after the particular thought of one Arvánë.
Thus Nibbû, father of the Ngóstili, and his wife Krâlmim were the product of the chief of Áthru’s thought. They were a stunted, moody folk, oft quick to quarrel and swift to find fault; he fancied them harsh, unlovely and rude – ill matched with the grace of Ankaia. And he cursed his hands, that they had fashioned an ill favoured people.
In truth, they were not as he thought them – they were not ugly; yet nor were they passing fair, not as fair as were the other Rilthilan, but they were hardy, able to endure greater feats of strength than their kin. They knew best the crafts of masonry and steelwork, being able to raise soaring towers or – through a craftsmanship that they alone learned mastery – they could hollow entire mountains to be cities for their people.
Those people who were sprung form the designs of Víor were the Quendíli, and Elmo and Ulmí were the first. They were a noble, beauteous folk, with mastery of the birds and beasts of Ankáia, and able to tame them and keep them to add to their joy or to aid in their work. For this people learned the art of growing things and how to cultivate the earth as they pleased.
As for the folk of Mára, they were the Cerástili, and were most lithesome of the Rilthilan, and were oft times mistaken by the other races for Ilmáran as they danced in the woods or along the strands by the sea which they loved most. Therefore they made for themselves worthy ships to ride the heaving surf and they sailed wither they would in the world.
And to these races Telúmono gave dominion and judgment over all things with Ankáia, bounded only by the path of Quë, the closest of the Arlóserri which circled about Ankáia.
Once more Telúmono extended his thought into the Great Barrenness; and by the word of that thought was shaped Ankáia, the Lower World, for this he hung without the Paroth Ankáia, the arched window which looked out from Vínyoldë into Nerethnimlo.
For this was the shape of Arí, the Whole Worlds: Lebtámos was first and lay beyond all else, and it was the Outermost Void and truly Nothing, final and endless, until the day when Telúmono ordains to work anew the Worlds. Within Lebtámos, and yet not a part of it, was Vinyóldë, the Hallows of Telúmono and the Halls of the Vinyárni. And Vinyóldë encircled Nerethnimlo, which for a little while was the Inner Void, until Telúmono’s works filled it with light and life. Last was Ankáia, fairest and midmost of the Worlds.
Now, Ankáia was in shape like as vast, flat disc; and Telúmono clothed the new born world in trees and grasses and raised the massy ranks of mountains and cut the trenches of the sea upon its face, and breathed the first winds to stir across the wide spaces of the land.
He placed the beasts upon the land, and filled the sea with fishes and made the birds to ride the untamed air. And he made the Ilmáran, the fays of wood and mount.
And that Nerethnimlo would be empty no more nor without light as it then was, Telúmono fashioned the Skybarks, and set burning in each a great lamp to shine on Ankáia. And every ship was given to be piloted and every lamp to be tended to single helmsman each. The Arlóserri and the Ailósti they were called, the Greater and the Lesser.
Of the Ailósti, who were the lesser, there were numbers uncounted, and though Telúmono gave to each their own name, scarce few are remembered in the histories. But of the Arlóserri there were but ten and their names are held dear by all who watched the heavens.
There was Vrános, Watchman of the Day, his very sails and hull seeming to be alight with a glorious flame, yet never burning up. His lamp was Eilion, the greatest of all lamps. And there was Quë, his gentle wife, Mistress of the Night, for her lamp shone silver only when Vrános had lowered his fiery sails and passed beyond the rim of the world.
After her came Rástmu who dared take his ship in closer than any other to Vrános his lord. And also there was Silfeínyn of the Morning, second in beauty only to the Lady Mára herself. And there was Dindíol the Red-headed with his pale blade Draiglin; and doughty Lirósto; and Kilmárë with her shining garlands hung about her; and Tastúplë and his sister Tíntwiel; and distant Ilún, the last and least Arlóserrë. Indeed, some held that he was no Arlóserrë at all, but an Ailóstë.
All these were by Telúmono’s command set in their courses across the sky. And his work was good, and it was fair, but it was yet incomplete.
For when the Vinyárni saw the beauty of Ankáia they were enamored and sang of its wonder. And they said to each other; if only they might join together with their father in his labour and each add something to his work.
This pleased Telúmono well, for it was he who had first placed the thought in their minds. Thus it was that together they gave shape to the Three Races of Ankáia, the Rilthilan; and Telúmono gave them will and intellect and kindled life beneath their unliving flesh.
But when the Vinyárni had completed their work and saw how the fathers of the Rilthilan walked in gladness in the glades and fields of Ankáia, Áthru felt suddenly ashamed. For although they shaped the Rilthilan together, each race was formed after the particular thought of one Arvánë.
Thus Nibbû, father of the Ngóstili, and his wife Krâlmim were the product of the chief of Áthru’s thought. They were a stunted, moody folk, oft quick to quarrel and swift to find fault; he fancied them harsh, unlovely and rude – ill matched with the grace of Ankaia. And he cursed his hands, that they had fashioned an ill favoured people.
In truth, they were not as he thought them – they were not ugly; yet nor were they passing fair, not as fair as were the other Rilthilan, but they were hardy, able to endure greater feats of strength than their kin. They knew best the crafts of masonry and steelwork, being able to raise soaring towers or – through a craftsmanship that they alone learned mastery – they could hollow entire mountains to be cities for their people.
Those people who were sprung form the designs of Víor were the Quendíli, and Elmo and Ulmí were the first. They were a noble, beauteous folk, with mastery of the birds and beasts of Ankáia, and able to tame them and keep them to add to their joy or to aid in their work. For this people learned the art of growing things and how to cultivate the earth as they pleased.
As for the folk of Mára, they were the Cerástili, and were most lithesome of the Rilthilan, and were oft times mistaken by the other races for Ilmáran as they danced in the woods or along the strands by the sea which they loved most. Therefore they made for themselves worthy ships to ride the heaving surf and they sailed wither they would in the world.
And to these races Telúmono gave dominion and judgment over all things with Ankáia, bounded only by the path of Quë, the closest of the Arlóserri which circled about Ankáia.
3 comments:
Have seen, will read. After I have writen a very long and utterly confusing email to Isabella that is!
:)
I've read it now!
Post a Comment