A Fairy Tale by Gadira

Chapter 1

Written for Círdan´s "fairy tale" challenge.

Warning: Extreme gloominess and weirdness.

Read Chapter 1

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It had been night. A cold, windy night of a long forgotten time, in that place of darkness where the stars of Varda did not twinkle in the sky, but stared unfeelingly from the distance at the world of suffering, grief and unforgiving death to which they did not belong . It had been night, and the survivors of lost battles were trying to rest while they could, striving to plunge their misery in an uneasy sleep.

It had been night once, when a fey woman pressed her newborn child to her trembling breast, far from the safety of the campfires, and, alone in the midst of the blood-reeking land, defied earth and skies, friends and enemies, by whispering in his tiny ears that tale he would much later find hidden in his dreams, as something that perhaps never took place.

A tale of the world.

Once upon a time, she began, while she stroked his smooth face and studied it with sparkling eyes that seemed suddenly lit as if filled with a strange love, once upon a time, the Great Father had existed in the Void, alone. He had created fair and powerful children, and a wondrous place full of valleys and seas, of mountains and plains, which he called Arda. Then, he had created also many different kinds of beings; such as animals, that could run fast but not speak; Elves who were beautiful and did not die, and crafty Dwarves, valiant Édain and ugly Orcs. They were all invited to dwell near the powerful first children of the Great Father, the Valar, and lived happily together singing and working and enjoying the beauty of that world that had been given to them. Nobody knew hate; each loved the others as he did himself, and all cherished their wives as the most precious gift of their life, never leaving them alone without love. Nobody had heard the word envy, and, even if all kindreds learned from the bright and intelligent Elves, and they from the Valar, none ever wanted to have more than what the Great Father gave to them in the beginning, and never felt the need. For there really was none at all, as they lived in bliss, and so, the day in which the most gifted of all Elves made three jewels that began to stir unknown passions in everyone who beheld their glow, he gladly gave them to the mightiest of all in Arda to embellish his crown, and Melkor became the fairest of the Valar.

And they still lived happily, for years and years, forever....

As the poor woman talked and talked her heart out, her voice became stronger, and her eyes brighter, and she caressed each word as they came to her dry lips. The baby had been asleep since she began, but she, too far gone, did not notice this for a long time until a harsh breeze chilled her lungs, and her joy turned again into bitterness as she found herself sitting far from the encampment, an orphan child held in her arms.

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A few minutes later, the distraught woman was back in the encampment, where she handed the baby to the kind and strong Elven nís who fed him since he was born, but then she withdrew as always too; without a word. While she walked again past the fires, her body shivered uncontrollably, and the tears she had believed to be lost began to flow down her cheeks for just once more, before the lights died in the distance and she entered the shadows to become forever lost among them.

She would never return to their world.

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