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04/21/2024 03:26 PM  Luthien&TheButterfly 'Sometimes we must forget all we are and give up all we know to become all we were meant to be. Ask the butterfly, Melian said to Tinuviel. Do you think she would be able to soar between flowers and visit nearby lands if she still thought of herself as a caterpillar? No, my lellig, she would not. Her wings would only serve to cripple her if she thought such a thing. She has to forget the life she once knew to truly blossom, just as you must do and live your life with your mortal Beren.’ It was one of the first lessons her naneth would ever teach her about the stages of life. Just as Yavanna has since the time she was a young henig. Each bark of a tree captured the memories of the past, and leaves rustled whispers of the Valar and Yavanna’s guiding hand. She recalled the first time she felt Yavanna’s presence. Her emerald dress puddled into the lush field and roamed far past her almond-shaped eyes. “We are not meant to stay, as we are Luthien. Each season carries a lesson that forges in our souls until we become what the Valar has intended. “A warm smile tiffed the corner of her all-knowing lips, and her hair whipped around her face and held the most beautiful color of gold, like the wild wheat fields. “Look at the oak tree you dance and sing with. It was once the size of the tip of your slender finger. It was an acorn that broke free during Quellë and sailed across these lands until rain spilled from frothy clouds and sank into the soil beneath your feet. It slept in its satin embrace until Tuilë breathed life into the sapling. Each season, it grew bigger and taller until it outstretched across the fields and then sent messages back home to its Naneth telling its tale through multicolor leaves. It settled where the great Valar intended and provided shade, a home to the many birds and squirrels that roam across this grove. We all have a grander purpose, Luthien.” She paused, sighed, and just as a mist would feel, she strummed her fingers through Luthien’s starry tresses and warmed her violet eyes. “Such as you have, dear little henig. Don’t be afraid, and know when the wind blows at your feet to follow your call.” Luthien spent much of her time in the forest surrounding her home in Doriath, singing with the nightingale’s, sparrows and dancing with every tree and busheling. She even spoke to the buzzing bee as it tickled and wrinkled her button nose, listening to all the places it had been. It was a hazy Lairë day when she would meet the fuzzy critter she would name Vorea, meaning fuzzy in her language. He made himself known and slithered upwards on a blade of grass where Luthien rested her head. For the next week, they would share many laughs and sample an assortment of flowers in the wild fields as if they were nature's cupcakes baking under the morning star. Luthien carried him from one petal to the next, tasting each one until they had their sugary fill. She couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours, she thought when she spilled over on her side under a canopy of trees. The heat of the day and all the succulent nectars they had sampled lulled Luthien into Laire midday dream. At first, she thought her vision was still just blurry when she saw it. An oval fuzzy cocoon where a friend was when she fell asleep. But as she ran the tips of her fingers along the edges of her almond-shaped eyes, tears welled at once, seeing the horror that she would see. “Vorea! What has become of you? Speak to me. Are you in there?” She whimpered and cried. “Please? Do you need help? Perhaps I can peel it away. But not one answer or even a breath was given in response. Utter panic, sadness, and anger at herself for falling asleep trembled upon her, and she did not know what to do. So she gingerly broke off the thin branch in which he hung and quickly but carefully went in search of her mother for help for her little friend. Her naneth was tending to her gardens on this day in the healing house at the far end of the palace, where she said the vegetation grew best without all the noise and chaos sometimes visitors would bring. Such as the beauty held in the distant valleys that remained untouched, seldomly traveled on. These were among the lushest and most colorful of all the lands. Luthien burst on the vine-patterned wooden doors leading into her naneth's oasis, tears running wildly from her young sorrowful eyes. And she could barely catch her breath, and her lips quivered between hitched breaths as she tried to express to her naneth what had happened. “Naneth, oh Naneth. I had only fallen asleep for a little while, and and and… “ Luthien tightened her eyes tightly and tried to catch her breath as her puffy pink lips, reddened by her upset, pulled to an O with small, laced breaths . “When I awakened, he was like this!” She held out the branch and opened her guilt-stained eyes again. “It’s all my fault Naneth. When we travel in our days, I promised him I would keep him safe.” Mellian smiled softly and compassionately and curled her fingers around the branch, then placed it in the warm, freshly churned soil where it would be safe and secure . Then she crossed her legs, settled upon the plush grass beneath her slender angelic frame and pulled young Luthien into her lap. “There, there, my beautiful henig.“ Luthein found her words and demeanor soothing, comforting as she shivered, still crying but melded in her naneth's arms. “You listen to me Luthien,“ she said as she threaded her fingers down her long locks and made tiny circle along her back. “You have nothing to feel guilty of . It’s his circle of life. What was meant to happen for him. Just as you are learning with Yavanna, and why I let you go to the forest as much as you do in your days to learn what you must. It’s just like the changing of the seasons . A metamorphosis we all must journey upon. “ Mellian placed her tiny finger under Luthien's chin and raised her watery gaze to meet her own, for she would heed her words, knowing in the future she may need them when she too much chose her path without fear remembering this moment she hoped . “Even I had to change my path my young flower. Sometimes we must forget what we were to become who the Valar meant us to be. We are all a intricate thread in this tapestry of life. A quilt that spreads across all of Middle Earth. We are all connected, and with each joy and sorrow we feel, it drizzles into the streams and serves a purpose far greater than we can imagine. Your friend, my henig, he is transforming and becoming what he is meant to be too. He will soon emerge once again, but he will not look the same except his eyes. His eyes will tell you he is still your caterpillar friend. His purpose is to spread love and beauty. Pollinate across our fields and into the secret groves too . He will carry on his lips and nose the tiny molecules of flowers and scatter them like diamond droplets so they can grow all over and bring beauty and sweet treats to our world.’ Slipping Luthien off of her lap as she adjusted her legs and settled on her knees. Melian smoothed her soft palm over Luthien's head, threaded her fingers in her long, dark hair, and began to separate each cluster of hair and braid as she spoke once again. “You see Luthien, one day in the future you will transform and have to become what you are meant to be, and at times this can cause some pain. But just as your dear friend and I had to do as well becoming your Nadar's wife and not return to where I came from. You will crystallize and be as intended. You will know the moment, my little one. It will be redefining, exciting and scary too. But it will not be a choose. It will be the only path you were meant to be on. You will recognize it as if may even come in the form of a love's eyes and tug the heart strings of your soul.” “I do not want you to be scared, and when this moment happens, remember my word and what you will see when your friend emerges from his cocoon. Remember it Luthien, and be the butterfly. Find your purpose , know thy heart and soar.” It was eons ago since her naneth had this conversation with her. But when Lord Beren came to court on that fateful day and her, nadar sent him away on what everyone thought to be a quest leading to his final breath. Melian then pulled Luthien by her trembling hand and lead her into her healing garden again. "Sometimes we must forget all we are, to become all we were meant to be. Ask the butterfly, Melian said to Tinuviel. Do you think she would be able to soar between flowers and visit nearby lands if she still thought of herself as a caterpillar? No, my lellig, she would not. Her wings would only serve to cripple her if she thought such a thing. She has to forget the life she once knew to truly blossom, just as you must and live your life with Beren." She did not speak the words out loud. Luthien shared her Maia blood as well as her elven gifts, which magnified every whisper and breath, even perched between closed lips. Melian cupped her Iellig's tender hands in her own and sighed as one silvery tear cascaded down her twilight coloured eyes. "Be Vorea Luthien. Be the butterfly. Its time." Her words were but a few, but Luthien understood their meaning and nodded as her heart swelled knowing her naneth recognized the love she had for the mortal Beren. With this, Melian released Luthien's hand from her own and placed a sachet with many herbs and necessities needed to travel as she leaned in to kiss her Iellig's cheek and whispered, "use the door leading to the great forest. No guards will be there. But you must go now.. Guren *níniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham.  Melin Luthien." King Thingol never knew of his wife's betrayal. Although he suspected her involvement in some way. Nor did Luthien ever tell on how she truly escaped. But when she returned she cried in her naneth's arms and thanked her for her gift and allowing her to sprout her wings and find her own way.    0 Comments

03/26/2024 04:59 PM  Luthien&Beren-TheINN                                        The INN had grown far too noisy overnight as men from a nearby village took up residency as Beren and Tinuviel slept and the musky overbearing scent of cigars, spilled liqueur and sex filtered like a heavy sickening syrup in the air. Beren had been the only one who had awakened, hearing a sharp clanging of glass hitting the wooden floor in the tavern below their room, but felt his docile lass stirring like a rose in a winded stormy threat. Her puffy lips pouting, broken whimpers of a dove escaped her heart shaped petals as she curled up in his arms just as she did the first night in her homelands of Doriath. Memories of that enchanted night soon flushed away the noise brewing down below, an encounter that would change, shape both of their young lives and forever thread their lives in a way that would change their entire worlds. "Beren, ?" Tinuviel's tiny gentle voice chimed through his thick thatch of hair, as her creamy fingers threaded between each one and her eyes widened half crescent moons glint with fear, hearing the chaos, hearty drunken chuckles and lasses giggling drunkenly below. In thoughts of their very first night, the comfort of the tree's, surrounding willows gentle shielding the two as they slept and mourning dove's, nightingale's singing gingerly above them as he held her so tightly, feeling the air in her tiny lungs fill with air as he laid mesmerized, and she clamored in his forest of branches upon his chest. Her elven ears kissed by the dapper moon, glistening like gleaming stars at the very tip. Even when his kin spoke ill of the elven Beren always felt a fascination draw to their kind. In his eyes, they seemed to be almost unearthly, gentle and at one in nature, as well deeply connected in their own hearts and minds.                      But as he grew up admiring the men in his village, his views became somewhat tampered until that fated day in the forest of Doriath, when he would encounter an elven with midnight snow flowing in her dark tresses and eyes as brightly light as the heavenly star and the colour of a fresh lilac bloom under a summer's kiss, radiant almond shape eyes. It's at that moment as his playful gaze met her own, so helpless, curious and frustrated all at once that the inquisitive boy he used to be was once more enchanted by her kind and wanted, needed to know more....                 It felt like mere ages ago since their time in Doriath and his heart nearly broke thinking of the scattered sharp edges of memories, pages in between and as another glass thudded from the tavern below, he gathered Tinuviel who still was lost in her sleep up in a bunching of the surrounding sheets and his sheepskin tote still packed from a journey who needed to take hours before and snuck, crept down the wooden stairs of the Tavern being sure to hide in the shadows as he held her tightly, so close in his arms The wooden stairs, flooring creaked like a whining child underneath Beren's heavy feet and the surrounding air stifled his broad nose thick in the musky scent of aged sex and smoke clouding his vision like jinns dancing mockingly around his soul. The same that rose from the looms of lust when one elven maiden was taken to the next. Beren could never deny the hunger of the wolf, his growl that would sometimes rise from the pit of his very throat as he would turn his vision away and dig the tips of his long, skilled huntsman fingers into the bark of a tree. White knuckles blaring glowing under his rough patchy skin like ghosts that haunted clouded his very mind. But he never gave in, never taken without consent, never tore away a young innocent flesh, unless she so wanted it. Even as he gazed upon his almond eye beauty now, his sleepy fluttering lids dusted in starlight and gold, he couldn't deny the simmer of the wolf, the bulge he felt whenever he held her near.  The warm scent of summer rains in a bloom that scented the air from her long midnight locks. She was young, innocent, a barely blossomed rose still clinging to her dewy glaze and earthly scent. Her lips the colour of the rarest garnet, puffy, moist and filled with longing, a longing he would see, but she was always fearful to admit as she gazed upon the huntsman when she thought he wasn't paying much attention. But Beren was hyper aware, trained and skilled to sense the energies, shifting in the air just as he was now as he finally made his way to the bottom of the spiraling wooden staircase, like a vein leading into the bleeding sinful heart of the tavern below. His dark gaze scanned the room, not recognizing one dirt ridden face to the next, and them seemingly not recognizing him.  Too preoccupied with one milky white breast to the next. Muffled groans and smeared rouge lips, with glistening, glamouring eyes held to the vixens, vipers of the establishment. Beren felt like a fool for seeking shelter in such a place. His angelic beauty, his eve in the garden of eden, placed in one valley of shadows to the next, the very pits of sin and brimstone and the reveal of the worst of men. The blue haze of dawn poured in from the dark curtain windows shrouding their wicked deeds and the crevice of the entrance way beneath the door a few feet away as Beren peppered a look of boredom, dominance on his rough, bristled chiseled face as a masking defense, and clung to his beauty buried beneath the clouding of sheets he held firmly in his arms.  He could feel her body, shiver, tremble like a frightened dove hearing, feeling the warm bodies all around them as he coiled the tips of his fingers into her petite frame in his arms, to comfort and soothe her in her fret fearing she may whimper above the chaotic noises of the surrounding others, but he had no choice but to unhinge one of his large protective hands and push past the wooden doors leading to the outside and as he did, he could see, feel the cream of her succulent little fingers curl like kitty claws into the shallow of his chest.               "Shhh, my delicate fawn, we are almost safe." His voice, even in moments of utter despair, cast over her frightened mind and the quivering of her ample flesh as she buried her tiny button nose, pointy tips of her ears into his engulfing frame as he stepped out the door. The burn of the smoke shrouded the huntsman vision, making dawn appear like a stained-glass tapestry before his very eyes, painted strokes of bruised blues and apricots yawning over the frosted mountains, guardians of the surrounding lands that always held to a winter's kiss as he paused, stilled in its beauty.  He could never deny how his heart beat in the echo of the misty mountains as the smoke, misted spirits poured into the surrounding valleys and lands below. It was kept his sanity, peace when the world around him held to none. It was his place of worship, the mountains the keepers of his chambered secrets and the darkest parts of his heart. As he stilled, Tinuviel nervously curled her dainty fingers around the sheets, her soft watery velvet eyes, wide and full of fright, peering at Beren from below. "Beren??" Her voice, delicate like shattered glass but filled with alarm in thoughts perhaps he changed his mind. Perhaps he felt she was far too much to risk. Beren stared into her fawning doe eyes and dared curl his large hand over her small one, squeezing it ever so lightly, feeling her fear, worry and could see the threat of tears piercing sharply in her tabernacle eyes, ones he could never harm, or turn away from even if it meant his very own life.  "We are going to the mountains. We are going to make a home there, my beauty. Do not fret. I have helped taken from you the sanctuary of your home. Allow me to at least grant you another" A child-like smile graced the corner of her lips and glinted like fireflies in her young elvens eyes as she whimpered and nodded in response, then burrowed herself under the protection of the sheets once again. Even from beneath the warm clouding of sheets, she could smell the earthy, rich embracing air. The scent of morning blooms awakening under the hearty golden star as she yawned over the misty mountains Beren focused his vision upon the interwoven quilted valleys, streams and hugging lands that made up the landscape before them. Deep crimsons, periwinkles and burnt golds and rainbow fields of wild flowers that surrounded the shadowing of the INN. Such beauty, purity with a nugget of coal simmering in its mist. No. It was not Doriath, with her starry ivory flowers, or waterfalls that echoed and poured into the wells at the center of their village. Where every morning you were greeted by a hummingbird, bluebird or the nightingales that called her elven village their home too. But it was of Kementari, Queen of Middle Earth, where her birthing hands far reached beyond the soil below. Sprouting tree's, bushes and a shelter that would soon become a home for her and her love. Two different species, let alone battling kin's both delved in the heart, love of the forest and with each heavy step Beren took towards the stables, Tinuviel could feel the growing lightness, pulsing of her heart as the mountains called to their souls.            Travelling Home.... To Be Cont.    0 Comments

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12/17/2023 02:28 PM  Luthien-GrownUpYuleWIsh In the time of Yule- Lady Luthien stood in front of the window of the lowly Inn where she and Beren were staying. It had aged well past its youth and the walls wreaked in the many sins, smoke and grime that could never be washed away. Old wallpaper that showed the fainted outlines of brush painted flowers from a skilled hand that, although barely there, still held their beauty between each line, and as she gazed from the window to the wallpaper, she could not help but to let her fingertip follow the grove of each brush stroke and wondered what the artist had on their mind. It had been snowing for more than two moons now, as the normally sharp, saber-toothed-edge mountains that remained clear even after a storm did not hold any resemblance to what they once were. Which troubled the residence that bravely decided to stay and bear this winter as they did the others before. Shutters in the neighboring houses and brick buildings across the dirt road had their shades and blinds closed throughout the duration of winter in what they hoped would shield their loved ones from the whistling winds that could sweep upon them causing a deadly cold Luthien, despite her sensitivity to the cooler months, loved the coming of winter along the misty mountains and into the hills and valleys of her home in Doriath. Every surface imaginable looked like a mirror of time once lost. Or a picture taken by the eyes of the Valar and kept for a poetic eye. But in reality, it was simply frozen, resting under the season's nesting hand, awaiting spring to blossom through the rich earthy soil and darkening slick blades of blue grass that gasped under its jaded, sleep-inducing hand. Each snowflake that fell held its own size, shape and even pearlized colour if you looked closely enough. But this year was different from the rest for Lady Luthien and although she knew they were magical, enchanting even for her they were like memories of a fragmented mind each one a face, heart of all those she missed and loved. Beren lay in bed, watching quietly from the distance as his princess pondered her thoughts in deep reflection, although she tried to remain playfully and stuck her tongue against the glass, giggling when it almost stuck to the cold surface. But her smile never touched the shine in her eyes, and he knew he must do something—anything—still feeling responsible for the desecration of her village, given that it was he that had mapped out all the strengths and weaknesses of her lands. Much had been shared between the two on many nights as they lay in bed. But even more was yet to be spoken of, and he feared if they did, it may cause a rift and draw a fine line, causing their love to end. Beren was lost in his own thoughts. The camps still plagued him in his own mind, and as many times as he wondered what he could have done differently, he was at a loss and felt as if he too was no more than a puzzle piece, a game in a lineage that lost their minds. He remembers even as a child, when the elders gathered to devise a plan to put a stop to the growing Orc population, that it was the oldest of his village who Beren always sensed had a hatred for the elvens that went far beyond the issue of the Orcs using them as breeding tools. Rumors circulated around him, and he kept to himself in his older years. Not many saw him unless a meeting was called, or he needed supplies for his home. It was the women of the village that spoke of a tryst he had in a forest on one autumn evening. He, too, met an elven who enchanted him from the moment he met her. But she did not love him, and he felt toyed with by his emotions during the time they spent together. He was married then, and his fair wife caught wind of her husband's absence and where he was. So she followed him beyond the brushing, beyond a watchful eye, and caught them making love behind an old oak. She confronted her husband and chased the young elven lass away, and when she returned to the village, she took her belongings and their children, and that was the last he would see of her. From that day on, whenever a meeting was held, his remarks and opinions were as sharp as a blade. He had no tolerance for the elvens and would not listen to opposing advice, shooting each one down until no one dared challenge him again He did not like Lord Beren even then, for when he first told the others about his plans to eliminate the elvens at once, it was Beren who spoke up and shouted no because he too had seen the elven lasses. Their beauty and gentleness in the lakes miles from their homes. How could this be right?" he thought. As he looked at each one like a fresh blossoming flower come spring. But the old man barked back at once, with Beren's father placing his hand over his son's lips to stop any more blunders or defiance from slipping. "You young laddie, "He scowled and squinted his grossly lined eyes. "You better watch your lips and that fevered tongue! Or I may have a mind to remove it as you sleep!" Beren remembers that day vividly, and it has played in his mind ever since. But what could he have done? One young child to stand up to all the elders? But when he looked at his beauty staring out the window, trying her best to be playful and not let him see the tears, he was sure she was wiping them away. He wished he had done something more; perhaps so many innocent lives on both sides would have been saved instead of their souls veining and pouring into all the valleys and seams. He could no longer still and flipped the coin he had been musing in his fingers for the entire time and he rose to his feet tossing it onto the bed and snaked his long strong arms around her lithe frame squeezing all her silent broken pieces back to life. The scent of her lovely dark tresses, and the nearness of her luminous flesh almost overtook him with thoughts of simply placing her onto the bed and doing what he longed to do but has of yet "My beauty…" He hummed into the gentle point of her elvish ear, and the vibration of his sandy lips left her almost feeling lightheaded as she melted against his masculine frame. At first, they just stood there in silence, uttering thoughts that did not surpass their own lips. Both feel the loss of their homes and the loved ones they grew up with and regrets not being able to change the tide in some way other than seeing past their shattered lineage Beren thought back to his youth again, but this time it was a happier time. It was when all in their village gathered in town Square and brought ornaments, pieces of broken jewelry, and glimmering things and decorated the grand tree's in brilliance to honour the season, the love they all shared to the other and welcome in Yule. When they arrived at the inn, they had not traveled much. But he was sure the kitchen below had flour, salt and a few supplies so they could make the same ornaments from his childhood. Suddenly he was enthralled with a burst of excitement and spun Luthien around in his arms as she giggled, confused and slapped away his arms. "What are you up to, Beren?" Her voice once again chimed in that delicate voice he loved. " Your eyes are shimmering like the stars freshly placed upon the ebony canvas above! What is on your mind, my mortal love? Do tell, or I think curiosity will plague my poor brain." He spoke to her of his childhood and the times he shared with his mother during Yule. Beren never truly spoke of her at all, and as he did, she could see his eyes begin to water as she leaned in and cupped his scruffy cheek and pressed her soft lips over his own. When she pulled away, it was as if the hands of time swallowed the darkness all around, and they were once more the innocent children gazing at each other like a childhood crush and lost in a winter wonderland. Moments before, a somber tone in the parlor of the tavern below erupted in the silliest of giggles and slaps upon the other's arms as Beren and Luthien made their way into the kitchen, ignoring them all. The servants were startled, spilled into the walls, frightened, in wonderment and thought the two were mad as they fiddled with pots and pans until they found what they were looking for. They did not want to make these in their room. Both had sense enough for this and decided they would stay in the kitchen as Beren, gazing up at Luthien curled his long fingers under the hemming belonging to a table cloth and gave it one hard tugging away! Yelping, Luthien's small hands covered her lips as items spilled carelessly over the wooden flooring below, and the staff cursed Beren with their eyes as he shrugged with a mischievous smile placed upon his lips and spoke humorously, "Oh, come on everyone! Haven't we all tried to impress and thrill our loved ones?" As Beren and Luthien began to make their ornaments, the others gathered around as Beren explained the tradition he wanted to recreate, and each of them, even the most hardened of faces, softened and joined the two in the making and baking of varying shapes Luthien felt as if her heart was going to explode out of her chest from the ache and love she felt at this moment as she looked at Beren with flour dotting his cheeks and an overgrown beard, and she knew, just as she knew the million other times she had fallen in love with him all over again. She grew quiet for the next hour or more and worked on just one for a very long time, and when she was done, she wrapped it up in a cloth, not wanting Beren to see it just yet until they decorated the trees the next ev when the storm would pass on. The snow storm had finally dissipated and as the evening shrouded the crystal blue sky, an array of apricots, magenta, and blue splashed across the mountainside. Stars began to yawn and chatter away as the villages, along with Beren and Luthien filled the time square and the sounds of laughter, giggles, and the squishing of snow wafted in the air. The young lasses spilled over the clean, crisp ivory snow, making Maia's as the boys formed snowballs and played a bout. The Inn was bumbling in happiness and the purity of the season, relinquishing any sin that belonged just moments before. Many brought baked goods, warm apple spice and hot chocolates for the smaller ones, who loved the sweet, creamy drink. Luthien just watched in wonderment as tears of joy, sadness for her loved ones welled in her eyes. It was the first time she had ever been away from home, and with so much uncertainty, fear of what was done and what was to come was peppered in her mind. But Beren, as he always seemed to know, crept up behind her and playfully gobbled her swan-like neck until she burst into a fit of giggles. She pretended to be mad, narrowed her eyes and circled the huntsman Beren as if she were a pouncing kitten, and he were a ball of yarn and he snickered at once and tackled her into the snow right away. "Get off of me!" Her laughter chimed heavenly in the air, and some of the villagers laughed at the two young lovers, almost for the first time. Even those who still thought their relationship was forbidden couldn't deny the love these two have found. The sun was about to set as the shadows poured low into the valley, and Beren pulled his beauty up and into his arms. "It's time, Luthien. You are the very last to put up your ornament. Take my hair, my princess." He grinned and bowed chivalrously as she carefully stepped through the ruffled piles of snow, and as they reached the front of the grand oak, she slipped her small fingers into her pockets and finally revealed to Beren what she had made. "It's in the shape of a star, Beren." Her voice was soft, almost breaking, and she would not meet his gaze. "I made it in remembrance of the stars Varda placed, leading the elves safely and lightening their way. I have been thinking about that story for a while now. The displacement and sorrow that they must have felt. But they had each other. Through it all, they had love, and that too shines just as brightly, and I am sure it helped them find their way." Luthien paused for a moment and strummed her fingers along one piece that gleamed as if it held its own light. "And this love, "she held it up to him, is from my crown when it was ripped off my head savagely but thankfully in Doriath. When I fell to the ground, I saw it almost calling to me, and before your men could see, I grabbed it and hid it away the entire time. If you remember, each jewel that was in my crown was said to be the tears of each Valar that my Naneth gave to me the day of my coming out." When she was done and trying to catch her breath, Beren pulled her into his arms at once, for it was the first time she had ever released her sadness before him other then the moments he heard when she slept. "Shhh, my sweet girl. It's beautiful, a work of art, but we can not settle that star on the branches, I am afraid." He pulled away and held her shoulders still as her shimmering almond eyes spoke louder than the words that screeched out of her mouth. "No??? Why Beren? Oh, but why? Please?" He started to snicker as she interrupted in the middle of his thoughts, as she so often did: "Shhhhhhhh. "He said it again and placed his long, skilled finger over her puffy, frozen pink lips. "No beloved. You misunderstood. It will go on the tree but at the very top. It belongs there to honour the lost, fallen, or those who wandered and became lost. Varda's star will grace our tree now and for the rest of our days. You have done well, Princess Luthien, and we all will find Our rightful way again. NOW." Beren knelt down and encouraged her up and held her ankles as she wobbled and placed the star at the top of the tree. And as she finished, he slowly, carefully slid her over his chest and caressed her tear stained cheeks as he whispered I love you and kissed her for the very first time in front of the villagers. Before that day he had acted as if she was his slave, servant and not his love or equal at all. But he no longer cared and wanted to hold her in public and what better time then Yule to do so.... Luthien's Crown- Excerpt From Her Story- The importance of the crown itself is what fretted upon her most of all, and none of the others but the Valar and descents of such knew its true worth or the meaning of each carefully placed stone. The silvery braiding was woven by the very fingers of Varda herself and each crystal was said to be a tear from each of the Valar as they wept seeing the children of illuvatar suffer at the evils of Melkor and the droplet that dipped in the center was the origin, making of the very first star.   0 Comments

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