The Family of my Mother - The First Smile of Ramyanen
The stars were above him, and reaching spires of grass encircled his vision. The air was warm and comforting, and it smelled sweet and young. Already he could hear the sounds of others, to whom speech was still new, yet freely they let their voices fly. Soon the glade would be filled with a music that none had heard until it reached their ears, and many were glad, for they knew that it was good. Yet, he smiled not.
As he walked about the glade, the others whom he awoke with, for there were many, would hail him and ask for his words. He did not have any; not for any lacking of lip or tongue, but because the fey that guided them had not yet touched him. Unperturbed, they showered words upon him, and named him La'oma, the Voiceless, and Tirno, the Watcher, for he saw much without blinking, and Galadamada, Tree-handed, for he was tall and lithe and his limbs were long, and the sound of it delighted them. Many other sounds they made besides; sometimes alone, but more often with each other, when they learned they could combine different sounds to make new ones. And though he listened long to his kin speak and sing, and though he thought the sounds were beautiful, and his heart was lifted, he smiled not.
They wondered, now, if they were the only ones who could sing, and they began to explore the glade and the trees around it, and they sang hopeful songs and brave songs, and songs of discovery and songs of returning home. Birds there were, who sang with them, though other creatures did not, but surprised they were to hear another song, sung as if in response to their own. High it was, and fair, and with many voices. Then they marveled to see a host of others approach, others like them, being led by Three, who bore wisdom in their eyes. One, who's host was the greater number, remained silent, as the leader of the lesser host and the middle host spoke. The lesser host, though more wondrous to behold than all the rest, refused to accept the singers, and looked on. Thus the middle host, who was the third, welcomed them. Songs rose up, cheerful songs of newfound friends and kin, and new words they learned and sang, words they had not heard before and pleased their ears. The quiet one, whom his kin had named La'oma, released his fey and sang, for his heart was glad: a note like a tree that had leaned over to inspect an acorn fallen from its branch, like a great beast was calling to the stars. Many ears were surprised to hear it, and he was praised for his sound, for it was the first they had heard and they loved it as they did all the rest, but he smiled not.
All of them together took on a journey, led by the Fair One and encouraged by him, and for more Elves it was they sought. Their company was full and rich, and they traded words and wisdom and song and discoveries, for all the world was new and each step brought a new rock or root or shape of grass, or leaf or bush, or scent or sight. Some discussed, and some created. Some spoke new words, and others incorporated them into the songs that were already sung. But for the quiet one, there was no comfort. True, he was glad to be among others, though it galled him at times. And he felt it was right that there was song and music and voices, but nothing kissed his ear the way it did the rest. So, he approached the one who led his host, who was Enel of the Third Clan, and he spoke:
"We are finding many things," he said, his voice tremulous but tender, "but I see not that which delights me. Dost thou know where I may find it?"
Enel shook his head, but offered his advice: "All that we have seen, we have put into song. Listen to the songs, and perhaps thou shalt find what thou seekest."
"But I have heard them all."
In time they moved through the forest and into the rolling plains. The sky cleared of trees, and the stars reached out from horizon to horizon above them, a great dome speckled with shimmering diamonds. Songs of grandeur and beauty beyond compare were sung in reverence and solemnity, and many bowed down to see such a hallowed display, for all Elves love the stars, and many wept, for there were yet no words to describe their beauty. The quiet one saw the stars, but they held not the answers, and so he approached the Second Clan, who was led by Tata the Knowledgable, and he spoke:
"We have learned many things," he said, and he held himself with reverence and quiet observation, "but I have not found that which delights me. Hast thou found it?"
Tata shook his head, and said, "We have many words. Perhaps if thou learnest them all, one of them shall be the one thou seekest."
"But I have learned them all."
The one leader of the Elves, the one who drove them forward to search, still pressed them on. The others were satisfied with waiting, wishing to explore each new land they found, whilst others spoke of returning home, but he urged them on, and they all followed. Search though they did, ever did they fail to find what they were looking for. At length, the fair one urged them all to seek new Elves who had awoken, for their number of twelve of twelve, he said, was incomplete, and yet more there would be for him to bring into his small clan. The quiet one felt a kinship of the heart, for he saw that they were both seeking and not finding, and so he approached the First Elf of the First Clan, whose name was Imin, and he spoke:
"Thou and I seekest, yet we do not find," he said, his low voice was melodic and humble, for he sought wisdom, "Thou hast spoken that a greater host would delight thee, yet I knowest not what would delight me. Dost thou know?"
And the wise Elf turned to look at the quiet one, and shook his golden head, "If thy heart know what it seekest, thou must seek it. If it knowest not, though must seek."
"I have not sought all," he said, and he was with wisdom.
Their journeys failed, for there were no more Elves to awaken. At last the three Leaders yielded, and their path turned to home. With a distance still between them, many eyes espied a great body of water, the lake of Cuiviénen. Some rushed forward, glad to be by its side again, to be home, whilst others climbed the highest hills so they could see it from end to end, and make new songs of it, for they had not seen such water until now. The quiet one strode forward, his long legs begetting a swift journey, and even as his bare feet sank into the soft sand, he felt a stirring in his heart. Kneeling down, he placed hand into the cool water, and drew it across. The tiny waves formed by his palm rolled out and faded into ripples, crashing with mewling gurgles into the rest. Edying currents chased his fingers after slipping between them, only to soon surrender and wander amiss, vanishing into the shallows. Droplets fell from his fingertips, drip-dripping back whence they came, rejoining the greater waters below. The cacophony of light drips and dark rushes, the cold but complete embrace, the lover's-touch as it caressed his flesh. No music he had heard could compare to it, no other thing he had touched felt the same. His heart unlocked, and his fey was released, as was his voice. He stood and stepped into the water, and called out over the lake in his bellowing tenor, "I am Ramyanen!"
And he smiled.
