Bloody silmarils, book I by Dilly

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Chapter 6 : The natives

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It was well past midnight when King Turgon jumped out his four-poster bed to knock on the closest door.

"Penlodh! Wake up!"

He had to wait several minutes before Penlodh came to the door wearing a night shirt and night cap and holding a candle.

"What happened, my King?"

"Excuse me, my good Elf, but if I take liberties in waking you at this unholy hour, it's because the Sindar have started singing again just below the tower! It's impossible to ignore!" 

The two elves went out to the balcony.  Ten floors below, a group of blond musicians were in the middle of playing and singing, interspersed with laughter.

"Can't they sing somewhere else?! Also what even is that instrument?"

"I believe it might be a violin, my Lord."

"Argh, and that language... I'll never get used to it!"

 

* * *

300 years before in Mithrim

 

"Here are the indigenous people of this country, the grey Elves of Beleriand, also called the Sindar," Turgon noted before the aboriginal ambassador.

"Demat!" Responded the Sindar.

"What a strange language," Turgon wondered aloud.  "Penlodh, you're an Elf of science... In your opinion, what are they trying to tell us?" 

"Sindarin is a Celtic language," explained the Noldo, "if I'm right about the roots from the language of the Teleri in Valinor, I think we can reasonably conclude that it meant something like 'salutations' or 'hello'." 

"Very well. But what does Celtic mean? " Asked Turgon.

"I don't know, it's a term I remember from books we were given by the Valar.  But I'm not sure of the exact definition.  I think it might be a generic term someone came up with randomly.  That said, I've never been able to trace the etymology." 

"Another divine mystery.  Sometimes I get the impression they hide certain things from us on purpose." 

 

* * *

 

"Like when they said that Quenya is a Finno-Ugric language," grumbled the smith Rog, head of the House of the Hammer of Wrath.  

"But then what does Finno-Ugric mean?" asked Glorfindel.

Dressed all in white from head to toe, he shone in Rog's somber red forge like a great daisy.

"I don't know. I asked Penlodh, however.

"You are a curious Elf."

"But he said he didn't know. That's what it's called, that's all. It's what the Valar said."

"Have you ever noticed that when scholars don't know something, or they don't want anyone to contradict them, they always say it came from the Valar?" 

"If you want my opinion, it's a very good excuse."

"But practical, for the most part."

 

* * *

 

"And that there, the flute with some kind of large pocket?" asked Turgon from his balcony.

"Bagpipes, Majesty," replied Penlodh.

 

 

 

Telerin Song

 

'Tis not the Elf takes to the sea
'Tis the sea takes to the Elf
I heed the ocean's call
A Tuesday I recall

I traded out my boots
And my old winter coat
For shoes fit for a boat
And cape of ocean blue

I left behind the drips
Who told me to take care
The sea is full of shit
From the fish living there

When the wind starts to blow
So too must I go
Once the wind changes course
We really must be off

'Tis not the Elf takes to the sea
'Tis the sea takes to the Elf
I heed the ocean's call
And she's screaming
Screw it all

I'm seasick all the time
Upon the angry waves
I threw up after nine
And also after eight

I've been bruised all over
And slept amidst the damp
It costs to be a rover
But there's pleasure to be had

When the wind starts to blow
So too must I go
Once the wind changes course
We really must be off
Ohohohohoh hisséo!

'Tis not the Elf takes to the sea
'Tis the sea takes to the Elf
I heed the ocean's call
I'm telerin after all

I'd sail around the world
Just to see each port
If only all the world
Would let me have my sport

I'd fly to the four winds
And fuck the harbor whores
And the oceans would sing
My name forevermore
My name forevermore

When the wind starts to blow
So too must I go
Once the wind changes course
We really must be off
Ohohohohoh hisséo!

'Tis not the Elf takes to the sea
'Tis the sea takes to the Elf
I heed the ocean's call
My boat is in its thrall

My noble ship is proud
Such beauty and such might
The three most famous masts
Look like a bird in flight

Olwë, Annaël
Cirdan et Riguidel
Adorn no piece of junk
Or aught that's not made well

When the wind starts to blow
So too must I go
Once the wind changes course
We really must be off

'Tis not the Elf takes to the sea
'Tis the sea takes to the Elf
I heed the ocean's call
A Friday I recall

Mother don't you cry
Your son's not a failure
Father don't you cry
Your son is a sailor

See your little child
He sails the seven seas
It's naught to make you smile
But it's my destiny

 

 

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Chapter End Notes

1 - ""Demat" is a breton word meaning "Hello". Breton language is a Celtic language that has strong resemblance with Welsh - and therefore Sindarin. Bretagne/Brittany is a maritime country in France, and Bretons are said to like drinking (like Thranduil). So the Sindar/Teleri being like Bretons is a private joke to French readers. Bagpipes are a typical Breton musical instrument.

2 - Originally the song is by the french singer Renaud :

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25g0AohErlg