Lilu's background

As I have been encouraging for some time now, I'm delighted to publish the first character related story of one of our Wolves. The honour was claimed by Lilu (Elufer's alt) with some tasty insight into her past.

Enjoy and... don't be shy to provide your own stories, long or short!

The Night of the Silver Light

When bright full Moon steals light from the stars, and paints the night in silverish greys, the Falcon clan awaits for their Spirit to visit them.

On that summer night, there are no bonfires in Tal Methedras. It is the Night of the Silver Light, when full Moon gives so much light that it puts a sparkle in our eye.

It is the night when Tur Morva is filled with humming of the tribal tunes and rhythmical drumbeats. The young of the tribe come out to play, sing, and dance for one another. They whirl along the narrow cliff paths for hours. When the mighty and encompassing Gwenaewen is pleased with their dancing meditation, She sends falcons flying around Tal Methedras. And the Spirit and its Tribe rejoice in celebration.

Lilu

  The last few weeks have been particularly brutal for young Lilu. She left familiar Dunland amidst the turmoil. Tensions among the neighboring Clans were at their height. The Falcon Clan was being slowly corrupted and no one noticed it. Lilu’s Father, Lheu Brenin, disregarded her warnings, even though he and the rest of the Clansmen were well aware of Lilu’s gift. It was like their minds were barred from thinking in any direction other than the White Hand…

  It was the last Night of The Silver Light, when Gwenaewen met Lilu. She came to the girl with a Raven on her shoulder. Lilu was trying to summon Gwenaewen for few weeks already, she was trying to seek guidance from her Spirit.

  The drums and humming of the Night’s celebration were filling the air and coating the two.

‘Your people are in grave danger, Lilu’  Gwenaewen spoke briefly. She lifted her hand and the Raven landed on it almost immediately, ‘This is Corbin. He will help you in case if you will need to leave the country’

  Lilu’s eyes opened in surprise.

 ‘Lilu, as you might have suspected, The White Wizard is not well-intended toward the people in this country. Do not let his protective claims fool you! He watches you patiently, imposing more control over the Clans every day. You shall resist it, and help Lheu Brenin to overcome it’

  Corbin circled Lilu two times and landed on her shoulder.

  ‘Shall the White Hand overcome your clan’s resistance, you must leave them. Do not tarry a moment longer, for you will aid them only by escaping in secrecy.’

  ‘Oh, encompassing Gwenaewen!’ Lilu dropped on her knees folding her hands in prayer, ‘Do not leave me with my questions unanswered! I beg you!’ She lamented as Gwenaewen started disappearing in the mist. Lilu sat down on dewy grass. The humming and drumming stopped a while ago. The dawn was near, promising a chance for Lilu to help her clansmen, and menacing with the threat of the enslaving White Hand. Could the Wizard really be so deceitful?

  Corbin made a screeching sound as if confirming her doubts.

  Lilu has been on the road ever since. In Eregion, a band of Orcs ambushed her. She lost her belongings, but managed to escape. They caught Corbin and lit a fire right away, setting up to cook him. Lilu could not lose that bird! She fought bravely, and managed to free Corbin escaping with him into the wooded Trollshaws.

  Exhausted from days of travel and malnutrition, she was caught by Orcs  East of Weathertop, and dragged into their camp in Naerost. Catching her was not easy, though. Lilu incinerated a few Orcs in the process. Naturally, they have beaten her up until she lost consciousness. She woke up tied in the Orc camp.

  Lilu has never been captured before. It was madly frightening. Her heart was starting to beat faster and tears filled her green eyes. She would have better chosen death than a prospect of being tortured by Orcs. It took all of the strength of a resolute Derudh, but Lilu managed to regain composure. She tucked away fear into the furthest corner of her mind, and concentrated on assessing the surroundings. This is when she felt a feather brush against her hands, tied behind her back.

  Another brush. than quiet pecking at the ropes. She knew she had a chance to escape now.

An unearthed poem

A poem found on a scroll rescued long ago, near Annuminas.

The scroll itself is dated after the city's fall, but the poem's origin, date and author are unknown.

It can be found, displayed, in the hall of the Wyld Hunt's kinship house.

For obvious reasons, Shemkel has adopted it as a creed of sorts.

Go where those others went to the dark boundary   

for the golden fleece of nothingness your last prize

go upright among those who are on their knees

among those with their backs turned and those toppled in the dust

you were saved not in order to live

you have little time you must give testimony

be courageous when the mind deceives you be courageous   

in the final account only this is important

and let your helpless Anger be like the sea

whenever you hear the voice of the insulted and beaten

let your sister Scorn not leave you

for the informers executioners cowards—they will win

they will go to your funeral and with relief will throw a lump of earth   

the woodborer will write your smoothed-over biography

and do not forgive truly it is not in your power   

to forgive in the name of those betrayed at dawn

beware however of unnecessary pride

keep looking at your clown’s face in the mirror   

repeat: I was called—weren’t there better ones than I

beware of dryness of heart love the morning spring   

the bird with an unknown name the winter oak

light on a wall the splendour of the sky   

they don’t need your warm breath

they are there to say: no one will console you

be vigilant—when the light on the mountains gives the sign—arise and go   

as long as blood turns in the breast your dark star

repeat old incantations of  fables and legends   

because this is how you will attain the good you will not attain   

repeat great words repeat them stubbornly

like those crossing the desert who perished in the sand

and they will reward you with what they have at hand   

with the whip of laughter with murder on a garbage heap

go because only in this way will you be admitted to the company of cold skulls

to the company of your ancestors: Gil-galad Hurin Beren

the defenders of the kingdom without limit and the city of ashes

Be faithful Go

[the actual poem is called 'Envoy of Mr Cogito' and was written by Zbigniew Herbert; here I made a few small changes to make it Middle-earth-friendly; you can find the original here -> http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/178191 together with information about translators, etc]

Burrowed in a barrow.

The three elves looked like if they had crawled out of a grave. In a way, that was the truth, as they had left emerged from an ancient barrow but a few moments ago.
Dusty, dirty, with cobwebs in their hair and unmentionable remnants of their foes on their boots.
The first one to break silence was Shemkel.
'We have to come back here with fire. Lots of it and lots of oil.' His voice was coarse from the fetid air of the tombs. The sound of Sindarin language alerted a nearby crebain, who set off with a loud call.
The bird did not fly far, though. An arrow set loose by one of the other elves pierced it mid-air, cleanly through the neck.
'A good shot' Shemkel whispered and raised his hand to order silence. Then he motioned towards south, towards the exit from that terrible, unclean place.
The three elves set off quickly and quietly, sneaking through the grim night, hiding in the shadows.
Every crebain they encountered died swiftly and efficiently.
Their way to Falathlorn was not a perilous one, after they had left the barrows, but the news they confirmed were grevious indeed.
It wasn't only Angmar, that the Shadow grew and loomed over the neighbouring lands.
Allover the Middle-earth something stirred. An Ancient Evil had awakened and no one was same anymore...