elAetah'len Cauroh: Scroll I

[Nectorist 12873]

ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʟʟs ᴏғ ᴄᴀᴍʟᴀɴɴᴇɴ

 

• ─────────────────── · 𖥸 · ─────────────────── •

 

ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴇssɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʀᴜᴅɪᴛᴇs

 

Oʜ Eʀᴜᴅɪᴛᴇs, ᴡɪᴛʜ sɪʟᴋᴇɴ sᴏɴɢ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍʏ ᴏ̨ᴜɪʟʟ ᴡᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛɪᴄᴇ, ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴏғ Gᴀʟᴀʜᴀᴅ, sᴏɴ ᴏғ Hᴜʀɪɴ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏ̨ᴜᴇɴᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴊᴜsᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʙʀᴏᴜɢʜᴛ sᴀʟᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ Mᴀʟɪ’, ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʜᴇʀᴏᴇs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪᴍʟᴇss ʜᴇʀᴅs ᴏғ ᴍᴀɴʏ, ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴡᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴇᴇʙʟᴇ ᴏғ Cᴇʟɪᴀɴ’ᴏʀ, ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀᴅ ᴘʀᴏғᴀɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴅᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ Nᴜʟʟɪᴠᴀʀɪ, ʜɪs ᴏᴡɴ ғᴏʀᴇʙᴇᴀʀs. Gᴜɪᴅᴇ ᴍᴇ, Eʀᴜᴅɪᴛᴇs, ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ɢɪʟᴅᴇᴅ-ᴇʏᴇᴅ Gᴀʟᴀʜᴀᴅ sᴀᴡ ғᴏʀ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴɪᴏ̨ᴜɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ Cᴇʟɪᴀɴ’ᴏʀɪᴀɴs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴜs ʀᴇsᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴡ ᴇʙʙ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʜɪs ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ sᴜɴᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴅᴇ ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ, ᴇᴍᴘᴛʏ ᴀʙʏss.

 

• ─────────────────── · 𖥸 · ─────────────────── •

 

ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴅɪɢɴɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴄᴇʟɪᴀ'ɴᴏʀ

 

By the ill-governance of Illathion, son of Illyria, were the Mali’ of Celian’or, city of stars, brought low from their place in the skies, for the sciences and arts which they had cultivated, gifted by the wisdom of Valyris, and the sturdy steel of Nullivari craft, the spearpoint of conquest, had been forgotten. 

 

It was Galahad, son of Hurin, that silver knight, who decried the state of his people, made subject to Man and slave to Vice, lacking of the spiritedness of old, where mere tales of the chivalries of ages past would rouse the hearts to maintain their honor through the pursuit of great deeds. 

 

Galahad, captain in the Celia’diraar, thrice compelled Illathion, Prince of the Stars, to return their people to the ways of old, a time of strength, zeal, and the aspiration of legacy, but thrice-rebuked was he, for the Prince of the Stars and his court, a cabal of the indolent, saw good in the regressive advance, for wine flowed freely from their spigots and the finest foods of Aevos graced their tables every morning and every night. 

 

The disgust of Galahad, captain of few, was near-matched by those of his command, who had seen for themselves the squalor in the hearts of the Celian’orians, a blot larger than the opulence of their marble homes and silken robes, and so it was decided that the company of the virtuous would depart the heart-lacking city for the barren wastes of the far north.

 

• ─────────────────── · 𖥸 · ─────────────────── •

 

ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀᴛʜᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪssɪᴅᴇɴᴛs

 

On the soft-fluttering wings of whisper spread the word of the convocation of Galahad and his followers, in the frozen fields north of Ravenmire, where no life subsisted, save the kindling of renewal among the Mali’, though only the faintest flicker from a candle’s near-spent wax. 

 

Many of the Mali’Ame, the primitive worshippers in the grottos and groves, soon took to his side, for their own, weakened and scattered by war and disease, had lost their place within the trees, forgetting their gods and scorning the hunt for a life of idle, domesticated farming.

 

Many of the Mali’Ker, who followed the soft-lit moon from their caves in the underdark, soon took to his side, for their own, thought to be criminals, wastrels, and thieves, had no home save the moss-lined walls of the homes of dwarves and goblins, nor would their moon-goddess speak to them, for its gentle glow did not reach through the black clouds of Ravenmire.

 

Many of the Mali’Fenn, the warrior-people whom all thought ill, soon took to his side, for their own, a lost, aimless, leaderless people, desired little beyond their thirst for battle and knew a son of Hurin, he who smote the wicked, could whet their appetite for glory.

 

• ─────────────────── · 𖥸 · ─────────────────── •

 

ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ɪʟᴍᴜʀɪɴ ᴠᴀɴɢᴜᴀʀᴅ

 

For two years the strength at the call of gilded-eyes Galahad gathered in that frozen waste, wherein the nature of a renewed Elvendom, and of the state that would found it, and of the people for whom that state would befit, was sharpened by the spar of words, of which the pale-faced captain drew his arms only sparingly, for he was a man for whom unnecessary triflings did not pass through his lips.

 

Yet soon sparring turned to dueling, and Galahad, to quell his followers, said ‘Let me show you the power of Malin Once-Crowned, born of the Four, for whom time’s toll is endless, and fear only that which he has blessed us with, for Elvendom, I love you, and by love I save you from yourselves.’

 

And his followers, Mali’Aheral, Mali’Ame, Mali’Ker, and Mali’Fenn, knelt behind their lord and acclaimed him Prince, but the humble Galahad knew himself to be undeserving of such a station, fearing complacency most of all, and told them ‘I envy not which is held by the complacent, only that which they loathe to attain, for it shall be labors, not honors, by which the Mali’ are made anew.’

 

Knelt low again by the biting winds of the north, the loyal Mali’ in his service deferred to their worth, not to their zeal, and found within themselves a great lacking, and so they again exhorted Galahad, the most honorable knight among them, to lead them through the gale; and so formed was the Ilmurin Vanguard, few in number but plenty in bravery, which march returned to the sunny plains of the south, their silver-faced knight at its head.

 

• ─────────────────── · 𖥸 · ─────────────────── •

 

Spoiler

ty @Unwillinglyfor ur formatting, as always

 

[Laeonathan 5898]

An Adrian fond of collecting great historical writing, quickly brought a copy of the scroll to the library of Beograd. Though he quickly corrected 'Illathion', who was ak-shu-ally named 'Illthrak'.

 

Ivarielle. Illarion. Illyria. Illthrak. Ilvarion. How was anyone not going to confuse these names?