The second song by Morcondil

The second song

Read The second song

In the beginning we were born of the same note in the Song, a single pitch that soared high over the other voices of our kind. We were a pealing bell: a strain of melody suffused with pure emotion. And we hung, suspended together inside that note, for delicious ages where I knew not where you stopped and I started.

But the will of Ilúvatar was that our note should split and become separate. I came into Being alone, without you. You were beside me but no longer in me; I was no longer in you. You were there and not there, and we were two when we had been one. We no longer sang the same note. Our voices were complementary but not united.

Separate, we were no longer Us. You became Nessa, and I was Nienna. Two notes, two diverging melodies.

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In the Spring of Arda, we dwelled with our kind upon Almaren. Together, you and I wrought beautiful and good things according to the will of Ilúvatar. And when we tired of our toils, we lay in the soft heather beside the lake. I bent my head to kiss your mouth and then taste the sweetness between your legs.

Your cries were more beautiful than any bird of Yavanna’s creation.

We loved long and often beneath the Lamplight, delighting in the fresh World and the newness of our bodies. And when the Enemy broke what we had built, I wept among the ruins even as you comforted me.

“Dance, Nienna!” you said. “Dance and do not let your spirit be saddened.” You showed me how to dance. You, Nessa, with unbound hair and nimble feet. You were beautiful and unrestrained, and your laughter was sweet as your kisses.

I am not a dancer, but for you I made the attempt. When I stumbled over my clumsy feet, I fell and wept again. But I kissed you through the tears and made love to you again and again by that lakeshore.

We remade together what the Enemy destroyed, and it was beautiful. But you wished I would linger in sorrow less often, and you did not try to hide this from me.

Our parts in the Song had already diverged.

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I remember the last time we kissed. I remember the brightness of your eyes and the tenderness of your mouth. I remember your lips on my breast, then lower lower lower. And I remember the way your fingers clutched my hair when it was my turn to taste.

When it was over I wept at the beauty of it all: exquisite and painful. This time you did not comfort me, but instead turned away with a disappointed sigh.

“Nothing is ever right with you, Nienna,” you said. “Always, there is something amiss.”

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Our struggle against the Enemy waged on, but you and I no longer restored what had been broken together. Now you preferred to work alongside your sister, and without you I was left alone with Námo. My sorrow and my tears still wrought beauty, and I wished to show you what I had done. But you withdrew from me until I could no longer find your spirit.

Still I renewed my efforts to create a more glorious Arda, though slowly the Enemy began to prevail.

Then came Tulkas the laugher, who drove out the Darkness and restored Ilúvatar’s vision. Mighty and fearless was he, and all our kin revered him.

And you...you chose to be his spouse, Nessa. To him you gave your kisses and your smiles. I watched you dance while he laughed, and I knew that you had at last found joy. You were forever beyond my reach.

I wept at this knowledge and was not comforted.

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The Enemy returned, as he must always do. The Lamps were snuffed out and Arda was in darkness. We set to work again, and this time we built a fortress away from the Enemy’s sight.

Valinor we built, and mountains and quiet pools and vast fields. We built our city in grandeur, and there Yavanna planted the seeds of our new Light.

“Let Nessa dance upon the soil, that these saplings may grow with joy,” said Tulkas to the assembly. 

“No,” said Yavanna, “let Nienna weep over them.”

I wept, and the Trees sprouted beneath my tears. They flourished and flowered, growing tall above my head. I sat bathed in their mingled Light and knew I was beautiful.

I think you knew that I was beautiful, too.

Did you miss me then, as I have always missed you?