The Hildor by Odinsbard

Canto I

                The Hildor

(Author's note, to avoid possible confusion:
The term 'Hildor' is an elvish word, given to the race of Men pertaining to their place of origin according to the Ardaen Mythology. In this piece, 'the Hildor' is here the main character's moniker, indicating him as a 'representative' of Mankind, while his actual 'name' is not reveal'd until much later in the story, being not of importance to the narrative overall. Thus, when one reads here  'the Hildor', and  'the Youth', let him remember in the majority of cases (as one can tell by the given context) it is addressing said character.)

There was a youth who hunted oft in th' woods,
With bow in hand and sword upon his side —
Better than anyone he knew those ways,
'Twas something that he prided in himself.
            A day there was when game was very scarce
As walk'd he from the winding fallow trail,
And many hours he'd been walking bored
With eyes upon the leaves of shimm'ring green
Above his head, who whisper'd 'mongst themselves,
In words he even thought he understood at times
(Though Druid's gifts were not a subject which
He could have claim'd to be well-vers'd in);
Today he did not hear much of what they spoke,
For if he did he might have turn'd back home.
There was no meanness brewing in the Wood
Yet something strange was certain going on,
And as he wander'd from the beaten path
He heard a haunting voice clashing with chants
Against the peaceful rush of Manwë's Wind,
Aromas rising from the Western Eaves
Of his belovëd forest — 'No one wends
This way, o who could be who doth?
Trav'lers rarely pass but through the Eastern
Paths, and I thought that Westward they were loath
To make, as straight it goes but t'wards the Sea,
The beaches laying 'fore the tree-line far
Reaching North and South. I say, what weirdness!'
            Just then he silent stood, as the screeching
Of birds he'd never never known within that wood
He heard above his amazed head. 'By Gods —'
He breath'd as witness'd he a wond'rous sight:
A pair of Eagles great were soaring high
In circles o'er him. 'What are you doing
Here, within the Forest evergrowing
With wonders?! Th' Eagles are but fabled pride
In stories told by Elder men, and Bards
Of kingly courts from which they seldome part…'
The Eagles flew then t'wards the Western Eaves;
Anár, the Vessel of the fie'ry Sun,
Play'd upon their shining coats of gold and iv'ry,
And dazzled by their brightness stumbled forth
The hunting boy to follow neath th' immense
Shadows cast upon the vegetation.

As wander'd he into the Western Folds
His eyes but rarely left the Sacred Birds;
The chanting which he heard before was gaining
Volume, he heard it's magic pulsing through
The humid air of Summer. Morning pass'd
And now he saw that Vása rais'd her sails
To fully light the corners wide of great
Arda — hours now had pass'd since first he
Did spy those Sacred Birds that reel'd on high.
'We must be coming close up to the shores
Of Balar's eastern coasts, ne'er touch'd by war
Or roaming man, forbidden by the Lord
Of Earth… To turn around it is to late,
My curiousity must satiated be
That now it's been awoken!'
                                                Trudging on
He sudden stumbled from the reaching trees
To fall upon his face within a green
Clearing. Standing to his feet, bewilder'd
And slightly hurt in pride, he then beheld
The voice who's chanting travel'd o'er the Wind —
Although his face it wasn't that was seen;
His back was turn'd against the Hildor young
With lengthy arms out-spread, raised to the Sky
And thrusting with the rhythm of his spell.
It was no language that the Hildor knew:
More beautiful than aught he'd heard before
It was, and th' words with which the wild-man spoke
Were certain some enchanting words divine;
Though the boy had never yet been present
To such mysterious activity,
He ne'er before within this span of life
The Gods of yore had short bestow'd on him
More natural felt, or more at ease than when
He came unto that hallow'd place, where few
But Elves had walk'd before — and even those
Had rarely come unto that place, for long
They've known it's ancient sacred purposes.

The figure did not move, nor did he pay
The smallest nod or any heed to show
That he did know the presence of the youth.
            The boy then took his time to look around,
For he had never been so far to th' West
To pass the border of the Forest's trees,
Yet the Lord of Earth was waning in those days —
And his reign amongst the southern Men did grow
Weaker with ev'ry day that pass'd, for he,
The Lord himself, did never dwell within
Those lower realms of Arda — in the North
His lavish kingdom was (which some call'd cruel,
Rather than the beauty he'd have all believe).
He never came to thus sojourn amongst
The ones he held beneath his blacken'd thumb,
But had his harshest minions take the land
Within their keeping; farther yet though to
The south this was, and this was why the Youth
Had come to be so very fond of th' wood,
And though his family still dwelt in Toun
And he did stay there much of the time, he
Was wont to travel to the Forest wide —
Which Silvan Elves had 'Taur-im-Duinath'
Call'd for many years before the Hildor
From th' East had travel'd, seeking better life.

Yet little was the time he had to check
The scene about him — swiftly the Wisard
Turn'd to face the Youth who stood bewilder'd —
For now the Hildor saw the Voice straight on,
And quite a wild countenance had he:
His hair was curly, long and dark like shades
Of groves mysterious and Twilight-filled;
His eyes were deep and fallow as the Earth
With light *profound* enough to make the strong
Falter before their awe-inspiring gaze —
His shirt was thin and colour'd as the Pearl
That fisherman do scoop up from the Sea,
Yet stain'd it was in places small with wine;
His pants were wove with many mystic signs
Which th' Hildorin had never seen before.
A flute he held within one hand, a disc
Within the other's grip, 'pon which was carved
A star with points that met in places five —
Despite his somewhat rugged apparel,
A jewel'd crown did sit upon his head,
And though his face seem'd stern at first, the Youth
Then notic'd that a smile small was 'pon
His face, and gentler there his presence seem'd.

'What would a Wisard with a mundane man?'
Surprisèd with himself the Youth there found
He'd words to say, and bold words at that!
'We would but things ye'd not yet understand,
Yet soon enough such remedy we'll make —
The destiny that's given by the hands
Of Valour unto thee; we must awake
Your Mind! The Wine of Gods I'd give to thee,
And then the Truths ye know not, thou wilt see…'
'I do agree, that I must be awoke!'
'Ah! good humour'd sure I be, yet jesting
This surely isn't — hearken Hildorin!
We are ancient friends of Elf and Man,
And 'pon this day initiation will begin — '
 — 'But tell me who you are, if friend you be!'
            Such was the discourse that went 'twixt the two,
And th' Wisard saw the disbelief that sat
Within the Hildor's eye, and thus he knew
'Twould be a bit before their task began.
'By many names, my friend, I have been known —
In many forms by all I have been seen!
I am the Gelion that swiftly flows
In lands afar your Fathers have forgot,
I am the Fala's rolling green, I am
The ancient gloam that lingers still within
The forest small which Elves name Nan Elmoth,
I am the countless mountain ranges high
Surrounding secret vales of Northland; what
Is there that I am not? a question more
As this is likely better ask'd; I am
The Light which shines no longer in the Realm
Of Blessèd Gods — So many names have I!
One might even say I am the soul of Arda.
But unto thee a guide of care, and overwhelm'd
Thou wilt not be as long as I am here.
Yet if a name ye must give thus to me,
Geluin will suffice, and Teacher will I be.'

'And what a strange encounter this has been!
I did not know that drunken men upon
The beaches liked to dwell — yet from such dreams
I'd surely hasten, the Lord of Earth forbids —'
'NO —' the Wisard yell'd sharp, and quick, his face
Then turning anxious 'pon the startled youth —
'The one which thou hast name'd to be the Lord
Of Earth is but a fraud: a Vala grace-
Bereft in days of old. Ye can't afford
To cast aside the teachings I would give:
Enlightenment is but the Ritual
Of waking up the Truth that dwells inside —
The challenge is to put those Truths to action,
And all the evil lies ye've known aside!'
            At this the Hildor certain was appall'd,
For none had ever spoken so to him
Of blasphemies against the one name'd Lord —
He'd had the feeling long ago that what
They taught his people had been twisted lies,
And always had he felt a nagging nudge
To disregard the 'teachings' of the Sentries
Who claim'd the legends of the Gods untrue;
For they were fill'd with tones of strength and light
Rather than fear and smashing laws which taught
Th' awkward tales of Arda's oppressing king.
With such confusèd thoughts in mind, he turn'd
To face the Wisard once again, 'What brings
A man so young as I to such a place?
What worth am I that Knowledge should be learn'd
By me, which Grace with-holds from other men?'
To this the Wisard laughing answer'd,
'O do not seem a fool before me, friend —
I know ye better than ye'd like to guess!
I'll tell thee that the Hands Divine have bless'd
Thy family and th' ways ye wend about
The Forest here, which thou dost love so much —
Can ye not feel the presence of the Gods
E'en now? Their Spirits stout and steadfast here
Within the trees themselves, within the smiling Sun
That rides above us high in Vilya clear,
The waters of the Cape of Balar — hear
Them crashing 'gainst the shore! their glinting far
Upon th' horisens o'er the hills, 'tis Ulmë Great
That even swims about these shores.
A Wisard am I of many wisdoms,
And I shall open doors of Arda's Soul
That ne'er afore have shown themselves before
The Eye of Hildor. Time is here to choose
The Path of Righteousness, or of the Foul…'
            The Hildor look'd to th' West, and saw the Seas
Of Ulmë Mighty pulsing in the light of Noon —
He felt a strength which never had he felt before;
Like Peace of Mind with th' restlessness that comes
With Truth. He drew his sword from out it's sheath,
And bowing down upon his knee he spake —
'Teach me of the Valar's Wisdom, Wisard,
And help me find the Strength you claim to know
Within me.'

                        'Secrets of the trembling leaf
And rushing stream will now be learn'd by thee,
Along with Vása's light, and Rána's glow….'