Renewing The Song by Naltariel

Lamentation of the Betrayer

Chapter 2: Lamentation of the Betrayer

We who were living are now dying,
With a little patience…

The world was fading. It began from the day the accursed Morgoth stepped into his beautiful realm, and climaxed in the War of the Wrath. But the ruin of the War was naught compared to the destruction by the foolish and ruthless hands of the Second born who were, as was planned by the All-Father, now shaping Middle Earth. The land he loved so deeply was waning, screaming its agony in voice that he alone could hear. The sun was no longer bright as she was used to be, nor the silver light of the moon. Forests and trees cried out in helpless fury, as they were being burned and cut down mercilessly. Creatures were diminishing one by one, save for species who were bred for Men’s self-serving purposes. However, they too, were corrupted and altered, slowly loosing their original nature.

Daeron, the greatest minstrel of Arda, wept. As a Firstborn he was bound to the Earth until the end of Time. As a Sindar, he could not leave this land to join his kin in Amman, the haven for Eldar who were tired of this marred realm. He loved his birth land, Middle-earth, too much. He mourned for the desolation in despair, for he could do nothing to redress it. The Quendi were no longer the initiators, they were but watchers now. Aged and weary, yet undying. 

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He saw the immortal descendents of his beloved sailed to the blissful West one by one, leaving this changing land behind. He saw the last daughter of the Eldar, Arwen choose the same path as her ancestor, embracing death for the sake of her lover. What was love that one would forsake everything for her? 

For love is as strong as death, its ardour unyielding as the grave.

‘It is true. But Valar know, I too, possess such love, which was not any less that of Beren, the mortal. Did she know that I loved her so? Did she know I did not wish her to fall into the dreadful Death of the mortals?’

But in the end, he knew that her seemingly foolish choice, to stay with her beloved in life and death, was wiser than his. He remembered her when she returned from Mandos, to live a short life with the one she loved most by her side. Her Elven nature had gone; she was but a mortal maiden, without Elven glow nor airy feet. Yet, her beauty was most blinding as ever and her dance was most joyful. Though she could dance no more, yet each movement she had made would not be forgotten, proving the power of impermanence. Having live meaninglessly for ages, he understood the lesson better than he wanted to. She had lived to the fullest, never wasted any precious moment, and now she was resting in an unknown place that had been shaped by Eru Himself as His gift for the mortals.

And who was he now? A watcher, like Húrin under the cruel punishment of Morgoth, passive and powerless. A stranger in land that used to be his kin’s. A betrayer of his loved one. A mute minstrel, from whom  the most beautiful songs arose.

A lover, whose broken heart needed healing. 

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Chapter End Notes

First italic is from TS Eliot, the Waste Land, second is from NIV Bible Song of Songs 8 : 6