The Lord of Virtue
Elves would find their ways, and still it wouldn’t be enough, for their existence was expanding through other spheroid lives, and they were growing everywhere they trod, if not through other star portals or space travelling, or breeding humans among themselves or giving others in the safest and the most grimly stowed nooks to have them by their dark techniques and delving into the forbidden and the knowledge of Arda’s fleshes, the common blood of Goddess, or even having the reserves of planets who would hoard what they need in the most pressing times of needs. It was the same as the Elf kisses his Bride’s hand.
To Celegorm, the Emperor’s Son, who took the Great King’s daughter of humans, the Last that will ever be as the pure human, it was the same as you are telling him that there will be no ending for the happy narratives. He may be the High Prince, her sweet Prince and she is his High Princess, which were the inherited and political ties, but there was something much more in the life than the eye may look at, while he was resting himself, taking some repose and breathing space to himself, easing his misunderstood Elf being from forging, building, constructing, manufacturing and detailing his son’s realm, to whom, he was the key figure in its visionary dream.
This is why he was on top of the glass cupola, as if he was the mere observer and the servant to those who deserved it, which is dotting one bridge of steel with another, it was the stringing and mass specked masterwork with other distinctive cupolas of Jon’s realm. Of their son, for they may be his birth parents and they sacrificed everything for what he has become, but they still were his parents and through his blood, their own was coursing as the spring’s desire of the summer’s gladness. He was contended, that is what he may say to his self. That is what was making him wake up and what put him back to sleep, only to press ahead and struggle on. That was what he was foisted to do, what he never deemed that it would be like that. That he shall be the builder in their own son’s dominion, to live with the people he caged and without any mercy, he did hunt them, and to be recognized as one of them? He now knows, why humans follow Jon Snow. For he wasn’t what they wanted, he was unneeded, no, he was in the times of darkness, what was the stepping stone for them, the moment of truth. They had only two paths to follow. Either as slaves of Elves or to be something more to themselves first.
They chose the last and the second-mentioned. For Jon Snow wasn’t theirs. They were his. He chose runts to be Kings, he chose bastards even among daughters to be Queens, and all what they had to do is to pursue their dreams. They have to let go of one branch, so that they could climb onto another. If you have one Door, knock on the second one, if there is the third, knock even on that one too. For how many lives, he did take, not to be dead bodies, but to be the living sentient beings in their birdcages?
When he remembers how he was, who he was, and just take a look at his son, their son, at Jon Snow. The bastard who is the King of all Kings, the All King, one and only, above all else, he was the proof, that you may come from any background, you may be anything you want, anything you aren’t, anything what the world endowed you with, and still, you will be what you were supposed to unbecome. Jon started as Elf, and he became Human. His son will live long, but he will die, just like Glor’s son and the daughters of other Lords and Ladies, of Masters and Mistresses as such and it wasn’t up to them to take away the choice. It was his. That was theirs.
Never take the choice from your own child, you will never know if you cut his or her roots at the start of independent life, how much he or she as the single person, may grow. And they will live enough to see the rebirth of the newer era we shall never see, the better one, than this one that he builds in the North, for its expanse is the one that is unconquered and never will be attainable, since there is the place for everyone, each soul that didn’t find its haven, neither in the South or the East (Essos), or the Westeros (West) or the whole Middle Earth that is consisting of Beleriand, nor the lands unhidden, shall be welcomed by the Kings in the North. Gods may write their destinies into stones, but even the stone may speak, even they may feel, even the stone’s words may fade, and the message is, while the day is growing dim, the one of the Lord to whom we pray, it doesn’t matter if you are believer or not, you lay your faith in goodness in people and it is everything what any Parent may ever dream, and the words are, we shall strive to better what is unrefined, we shall never give up, for who we are to say that we had it enough, when the worlds which are eons apart from us, had stood the test of time? You have no excuse to give up. That was the message so.
- My dear, what are you doing up there alone, by yourself? – it was her, he would single out her voice amongst the many, and he would still know, it was her, his undying wife who also got her immortality, he looks down, eyeing her, she waited, and he jumped, softening the fall by the agility of the Elf, roosting himself on both legs, like it was the innate experience that is the intricate part of his wellbeing. He was before her, just like the first time, under the Heart Tree whose crying face may make the wish and for the blood to answer back, so it was, and so it shall be. – I have a feeling that Jon needs us. He isn’t complacent of how he fared about the Masquerade Ball. – He shall never find his peace, as long as there are humans who need him. – She didn’t reject him, but this is how he feels.
- She stood no chance. There was Glorfindel of Golden Flower, my brother who was in the Past, the one we called Brandon, who died in the fire, and the Fire has brought him back and his Uncle.
- There is little he could do.
- He will always believe that he could do something far more. Always, that is our son, Celegorm. He is still so young. He doesn’t understand his worth, just as any other human does, or the sensible creature. We do not know, only when we close our eyes for the final time, we see that other light, there were numerous of them, and not the single one, didn’t ever tell us, that all what we have to do is to stay on the path we chose, and that is the only sooth, that is the candor, that is our gospel truth. – The rain passed away. – And so shall his misgivings with it. – We should go to him. – We shall, but he must be...
Yes, alone first. He was destroying himself, even the family within him, that lived on and forever, and for the children of his children, will see the broken man who fought the unthinkable currents in his time. For he has dug himself deep. Just like the Dragon with him, this is what they both experienced. For when you bury oneself, to a great depth, all what he can find is what he knows all along, he shall never give in to Fate. Just have that look, one final glance at what he alone accomplished with his Pack. He materialized something that was long gone, it is hope!
- Is it sufficient? Is it aplenty? – this is what he was asking her, over and over again, till it wasn’t something that made even her to sit down, by his side at one of the rising turrets of the glassy wonders, watching how the clouds of showers were crossing the unbound roofs of the material world. And in there, you never know, where the spiritual glow shall find you. There are the flurries and the flares, it was kindly to gaze upon it. To see, what is there that will make you gape, what will make your eyes open wide. To stare in wonder.
- Do you ever ask yourself, what it would be, if you were a human? My sweetest Prince?
- My darling Princess – they hugged selves, staying like this, for some time, he came for her, that is all what mattered, they didn’t even need any wedding, all what they were requiring is to stay where they were, to be together. Even when the life is gray. He keeps her warm and homely, he never desisted to baby her, pleasant and heated, just like the Dragon he never chose to be, he was the Wolf, in a way their son was, but among all other things, neither Wolf nor Dragon, but the human who shares the Dragon Heart, one of the rarest. So he retains her beauty, he keeps her where she is gliding. So grey, that the hoary color was the ashen and cold and the pearl – silver stones were glittering the travelers, it was truly one of a kind land, where only the strongest were born and sired.
- We should go to him, to talk.
- We shall, but why don’t you sing? You used to warble to me a bit, don’t you remember? Elves of Original blood have the Swan Prince and his instrumental flute and the Reimagined of culture and borrowed faith to fit in, have Rhaegar the Dreamer with his violin and you, who is in between the worlds, the Wall to one and to other, has the voice. – My Lady, the dream of my heart – he kisses her gracious hands – it shall be as you say, never to have us apart, never to be the same in all what we do, we instill by magic of ours, even the instruments or the high buildings, the installations of modernity which weren’t my credence back in those days, I committed sins for which I paid, for I do not regret what I had to do, so that Hurin find peace and the Love in the godless nations of Elves. Or so we were, till we didn’t unearth that there is the faith in all of us, even in me. Oh, how I would love to bring back time. Beloved one!
They say that no one laments as Elf does. Nothing could kill them, except the Death itself and their deep emotions, so thick that you have to use the blade to cut it in two. They do not know what is a headache, till they do not find out with the human. Oh, well, and so, he was singing. There was no instrument, no song, but the voice of the Elf, and the people who worked hard to make it till morrow, for another day, had stood in the place and they listened. Even Jon heard, oh, those voices which would bring them to Elves, those voices which are making them fall. He had to smirk to himself. It was the voice that is sent from the God. There are the uncounted number of the people who sing, some are professional, some knew it all their life, they cannot fathom the life without it and there are those, who are singing for the first time, the layman who was even impressing the God, and you didn’t request a thorn bird to impale itself to sing love!
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- We are roses without thorns. My sweet Prince. – My darling Princess, how was the voice of mine? Did you like it? – she tilts her graceful head upon his Elf chest. – Melody was of the Eden.
The boy has grown into a man! Blood Mages crack the Egg of New Dawn.