As who loses a star by Lumeriel

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As who loses a star

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“I hold in my hand all the rage, all the desperation and pain of one who lost the great love of her life.”

 

Souls of Cinder, Kalendeer

 

 

 

 

 

I remember the first time heat burned my body. I remember the slow, conscientious work of the tools that carved eternal marks on my yet-smooth skin. I remember the first time that Master held me in his arms, above his head, so that the light of the flames danced on me, drawing illegible symbols.

 

 

My conception was long and slow. Many times the Master went over the most insignificant details again and again. I remember when he finally took me to his house and deposited me on a soft cushion, covered in dark velvet.

 

 

"Why did it take you so much?" Asked Master's wife and he smiled without stopping looking at me.

 

"This one is special, dear."

 

Special.  I was special.

 

 

At first, the Master kept me in a special room, away from all eyes. I did not care: every day, he came to visit me and although he never touched me, he would sit in front of me and look at me with pride. I felt happy just because he looked at me. The Master was the most beautiful creature in the world and his eyes were filled with the same light that fueled the fire - his eyes were filled with fire.

 

 

 

 

He did not allow anyone to see me. Not even his children or his female were allowed to break into our sanctuary. Thus, my life passed silently in my bed of velvet and gold.

 

 

One day, however, the Master brought someone to the sanctuary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

At first I did not understand what was happening. An unknown voice whispered something that I could not distinguish and a new sound came to me.

 

Laugh. My Master laughed.

 

I had never heard him laugh and I felt warmth inside me when I realized that this someone made him happier than me.

 

I sensed that they were approaching my refuge and I waited, anxious.

 

 

"What do you want to show me, Curvo?" The other male asked then, with a tone that sounded like when the youngest of the Master's children wanted others to pay attention to him.

 

"It's a surprise, little brother," replied the Master, always with laughter purring in his voice and opened my bedroom.

 

 

Light blinded me a moment.

 

 

"It’s beautiful."

 

 

The voice expressed so much admiration that I forgot about jealousy and then, he was leaning over me. For an infinite second, we observe each other in silence. And then, he did something no one did before: he slid his fingers down my body.

 

From top to bottom.

 

And back.

 

 

A shudder ran through me and I felt I could sing only with the touch of his hand.

 

 

The Master came forward and interlaced his fingers with those of the youngest, forcing him away from me.

 

 

"Do you like it?" He asked, turning him over so that he would focus on him.

 

"A lot," the other nodded, and his blue eyes returned to me, as if he had found the perfect companion for him. "Does she have a name?"

 

"No," the Master denied and took him by the chin with a possessive gesture.

 

"That's wrong, Curvo. She needs a name," my admirer shook his head as he tangled his fingers behind the back of the Master's neck.

 

"She, boy?" The Master scoffed. "How do you know that it is a she?"

 

"Because something so beautiful can only be a she." He shrugged with a grace I had not see before even in the Master's eldest.

 

"So, I don’t look beautiful to you?" The Master growled and his companion laughed before leaning down to brush his lips with his own.

 

"You are perfect," he declared and my Master let out a sound that seemed like pain to me at the moment when their mouths joined in a fierce, desperate fight.

 

 

Watching them, I felt how the fire burned my engraved skin again. The Master freed himself from his partner's embrace for a moment and extended a hand to lock me in the darkness again.

 

 

"When I give her a name, maybe I'll give her to you," I heard Master promise before they walked away again.

 

 

 

The Master did not bring his companion back to visit me. Neither did he return in a long time.

 

 

I remained alone, remembering his promise and dreaming of those fingers’ touch on my body.

 

 

An unknown restlessness had settled inside me: before I saw him, I believed that my only goal was to be beautiful; but now, remembering the way he looked at me, I understood that there must be something else for me. I could sing in his hands.

 

 

 

I lost count of the time I spent in my refuge, oblivious to everything, forgotten by the Master, until one day they came.

 

 

I heard screams, rumble, cries, threats and then only silence remained.

 

 

I did not understand what was happening; but I suspected that maybe it was time to leave my sanctuary and see the light.

 

 

 

Then the children of the Master came and collected everything. I was placed in a car next to others similar to me, all wrapped in velvet mantles. Some came and took my companions; but nobody chose me. I started to believe that something was wrong with me.

 

Only the Master discovered me once and observed me in a strange way. I thought he would get me out of there, that I could accompany him and sing for him, and - maybe - go back to seeing the beautiful man with eyes like sapphires. However, after a moment, the Master covered me again with my cloak and walked away from me. I thought I noticed that he was wiping his eyes: it was the last time I saw him.

 

 

 

 

 

I was transported to the ships with others of lower rank and they gave me a place among the Master's belongings; but he did not look at me again. Maybe he was ashamed of me.

 

 

When we disembarked in the new lands, I heard from my refuge how the Master and his son were arguing, and then the sky was dyed red.

 

 

 

Fire.

 

 

 

I have always feared fire. From it are my first memories; but I always dreamed that death could come from it.

 

 

Hidden in my velvet and silk tent, I refused to listen and to see what was happening.

 

 

After that day, everything happened very fast. As I had always been in the darkness of my sanctuary, I was not surprised that it was as dark outside; but around me I heard rumors of a light that existed and was stolen by one they called the Dark Enemy. I heard with sadness that the Master had died, his body consumed by the fire of his soul ... and my pain mingled with the terror that flames provoked me.

 

 

I also heard that the firstborn had been captured by the Dark Enemy and I felt the despair of all those who passed around me.

 

 

One day, suddenly, a very pleasant sound was heard. Around my hiding place, the people ran, throwing praises to the heavens that filled with light; but expressions of fear mixed with the blessings: someone had arrived and I was not sure if we wanted them here.

 

 

 

After many days in which I only heard snatches of conversations, they came to the room where I languished and began to remove everything. Finally, they reached the door of my refuge and opened it. For a few minutes I did not recognize the face that was watching me with severe sadness: a wide cut crossed from the cheek, crossing the lips to the chin; all the upper part of the right ear was missing and three parallel cuts went from the temple to the neck on the other side. Only the eyes remained the same and it was in those eyes of silver and fire that I recognized Nelyafinwë, the eldest son of my Master.

 

 

He did not touch me as he watched me with growing interest.

 

 

 

"You are worthy of a king," he mused at last, and that was how I knew my destiny.

 

 

 

 

 

I was led with great pomp from my dark chamber to a lighted room. They covered my body with a leather garment adorned with gems and decorated me with a white gold chain.

 

 

When the time came, they took me lying on a red velvet pillow to a huge living room.

 

 

 

"Allow me, High King Finwë Nolofinwë", took the word Nelyafinwë, "offer you a gift that you will value, in memory of my father."

 

 

They took me to the king and left me at his feet. He approached me and took me with firm hands. He slid the leather garment off my body and then I felt it again: his fingers running down the center line of my anatomy, tracing the symbols they once drew on another earth. I shuddered: his touch was cold and when I looked at him, I did not find in him that calm joy with which he admired me once. My precious companion had disappeared.

 

 

 

"She has no name," the King declared, holding his fingers in the middle of my body.

"It's up to you to name her, my king and uncle," Nelyafinwë declared.

 

 

He watched me again, without the heat never reaching his eyes.

 

"I'll think of something, I suppose," he said scornfully and handed me to one of his companions.

 

 

I was taken out of the party and driven into the darkness once more.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to mourn for my destiny: I was born for great things, not to mold myself in the gloom of a damp alcove! My destiny was to be the companion of a warrior and sing with him while we toppled our enemies!

 

 

Then, when the music stopped, I heard the steps that came to me.

 

The King brought me back to light, he observed me in silence and finally - finally!  - I saw life returning to his blue eyes in the form of tears.

 

He held me against his bare chest as he cried, murmuring My Master’s name as if it were a prayer.

 

When the sun was rising above his kingdom, he gave me a name.

 

 

 

From that moment, I did not return to the shadows. Every day, my partner took me out of my bed, caressed me with perfumed oils and took me with him to protect his kingdom.

 

We were powerful: our enemies feared us. I learned to recognize the cries of terror of those creatures that we fought when my lord threw himself upon them like an eagle on its prey.

 

I sang.  He made me sing with his touch and I was proud of him.

 

I loved him. I had been created to be by his side and we were together for all eternity.

 

I was his partner in battle and at parties. Before going to rest, he stretched me out on his bed and caressed me with tenderness and longing, murmuring to me the same words he once whispered to my Master. Deep down, I was jealous: he loved me because I came from someone who was dearest; but I did not complain. That little bit of love he gave me was enough for me to sing. I would have sung for him even if he had never loved me.

 

 

 

 

 

Over the years, the cold of his hands was seeping into my body, until there was no trace of the fire that once gave me life. When we looked at each other, we saw in the other the reflection of ourselves and we stopped being a couple to become one.

 

I stopped fearing the fire because the day came when it was extinguished in my vicinity. My King joked about my powers and his friends watched me, amazed.

 

 

"You have given it the power of Helcaraxë, father," said his older son, whose smile nothing could erase.

 

"It will help if we should ever face balrogs, Fingon," laughed my King and I shuddered with happiness.

 

 

The balrogs were the devils of fire that killed the Master; but with me by his side, my King had nothing to fear.

 

 

Nothing.

 

 

 

 

Fire broke out during the night. The warning cries took him out of bed and he ran half naked to the balcony, leaving me behind, where I could not protect him. Scared, I watched the glow tint the sky and paint his white skin with bloody drawings. Fear seized me ... because that was the fire I saw in my nightmares.

 

 

 

While the winter lasted, fire and lava ravaged our lands and terrible armies chased us. My King and I fought until the fatigue forced us to return to the fortresses. We went everywhere, counting the survivors, drinking in the air the news of our friends and relatives ... and the news were terrible.

 

 

 

With each new loss that they communicated to him, the more I saw despair grow in my King. Then, one dawn, before the wind changed, I saw him put on his armor without anyone's help.

 

He turned to me and took me in his arms with the tenderness of a lover.

 

 

"Forgive me, precious, for taking you on a trip that we will return not to," he murmured with his lips glued to my skin.

 

I wanted to be able to tell him that it was fine, that I was proud to serve him, to belong to him; but I knew that no matter how wise and powerful he was, my King was not able to listen to my voice.

 

 

 

 

We ride to the Gates of the Black Hell. He called the Enemy; he called him a coward and a slave driver; presidio meat ... and the Enemy came.

 

 

 

At that moment I knew we would not win this battle.

 

 

I did not turn away from him when he fell the first time. I clung to his hand even as I bit into the flesh of the Enemy and savored his blood. I did not turn away when he fell a second time, nor the third ... or when he stumbled and fell backwards on the ground.

 

I clung to him, shouting my silent song while the Enemy crushed him with his impure foot. The creaking of the armor shattered something inside me and I sent all my strength to him, my King, my love ...

 

With an effort, he lifted me up and together, we wounded once again the Dark Enemy of the World.

 

 

When Morgoth recoiled, howling with pain and rage, I was thrown away, out of reach. From the place where I fell, useless and silent, I saw the monster lift his body and break it, screaming at the dark skies that Fingolfin, High King of the Noldor, was dead.

 

I watched, desperate as he turned to the wolves that howled hungrily, longing to devour my master's white flesh. Then, the eagle descended from the heavens. When the big bird took his body away from the field, I fell into darkness.

 

 

 

I was awakened by the touch of disgusting hands and saw the face of one of those slaves on me.

 

 

How dare it touch me? I belonged to a King! The most powerful of kings! With a roar of anger, I released my song once more and the cold that he gave me was unleashed.

 

Ecstatic, I watched the idiots fleeing, screaming, to freeze before reaching the door.

 

 

 

"What is happening?", demanded a golden voice.

 

"Damned!" One of the beasts howled, crawling on its ice legs. "We cannot touch it. It has the ice of the mountains. "

 

 

The stranger with the golden voice approached me, the red cloak billowing around him like living flames. He looked at me with his huge snake eyes and smiled.

 

 

"The ice of the Helcaraxë, rather" he commented. "These Noldor -they never cease to amaze me. I'll take her. Such a valuable thing cannot be touched by anyone."

 

 

He did not react when I released my power in his body. Only his smile changed as he led me to his rooms. He wrapped me in silks and leather covered with silver, and deposited me in a chest of gold. Before closing what would be my grave, he looked at me with a wider smile.

 

 

"You're lovely. It's a pity you're as ... stubborn as your owner."

 

He ran a finger down my body and pushed it away with a painful hiss.

 

"You will not let anyone else touch you, will you?" He scoffed. "Your owner is not coming back, precious. You will stay here forever, without being able to sing anymore. "

 

 

And while closing the chest, he could not see me smile ... because even now, while I sleep in the shadows of the Enemy's fortress, I feel the caress of my King and I know he will return, and together we will defeat the Dark Enemy of the World forever, and everyone will hear my victory song, the love and ice song of Ringil.