OOC- This is a story about Nenloth merely 20 years ago- It’s a little random as stories go but I like the concept and it inspired my recent drawing ^.^
Story-
The seas are quiet on this night. The skies are clear and the moon shines like a beacon of hope to all of those within the harbour.
Two elf maidens lounge by a small stream within a partially walled garden. The walls are aged and in some places the stone has fallen to the ground, leaving large gaps within the surface of the wall and piles of rocks lay here and there.
Bright red flowers grow in abundance within this garden. Statues of elves, of past warriors and scholars alike, stand amongst the bushes- all but one near flawless.
The younger of the two maidens looks to the worn statue at the bottom of the garden, the features of the statue look as though they have deliberately been worn down; chisel marks are evident, here and there.
At the base of the statue is a name, not worn away like the face. It reads, ‘Nárello’ and beneath the name, a poem, most of these words have been chiselled away like the face of the statue.
The maiden, Nenloth, frowns.
‘Take this…’ The elder of the two, hands a small white-golden box to Nenloth.
Nenloth looks to the box with curiosity. The older maiden, Antaine, motions for the box to be opened and she smiles expectantly.
The box is delicate in appearance and over the surface of the object, small leafy vines have been carved into it, the vines look as though they would sway within some gentle wind, the leaves are so intricate and so real in their form that one could swear that they would, at any moment, begin to sway aswell.
Nenloth looks up to the statue at the bottom of the garden again. Even with the beautifully crafted box within her hands, her eyes are still drawn to that statue. Antaine notices Nenloth’s fascination with it and frowns.
‘What is in the box?’ Nenloth asks and then looks away from that disturbing statue and to Antaine.
‘Open and you will know…’
Nenloth gently lifts open the small box. Inside is a white gold necklace, small blue stones no larger than the end of her nails are inlaid into the chain and at the bottom, a white gem, shining- almost opalescent within the moonlight. Gasping, Nenloth stares down to the necklace.
‘I have never before seen something this beautiful… It is…’ She begins.
‘An heirloom, worn by a relative known to be Alco. I know nothing of her, only that this necklace is very very old. A testament to the craftsmanship of your ancestors.’ Antaine smiles placing her hand on the lid of the box and to Nenloth’s dismay, she closes the lid and moves an elegant finger over the catch.
‘Can I not wear it?’ Nenloth protests. Moving a finger to open the small box.
‘No… It comes with a dark past,’ Antaine states, with some level of finality, placing an elegant hand over the top of the box to bar Nenloth from opening it.
Nenloth pouts somewhat. ‘And you think that my wearing this will somehow cause some kind of awful thing to occur?’ She smiles mockingly.
‘No… No child.’ Antaine, lifts her hand from the box and squeasing the elf maiden’s shoulder. ‘Neume..’
Antaine looks to Nenloth, pausing , then looking to the statue at the bottom of the garden, her gaze lingers for a moment. ‘ The maiden whom had worn that necklace…’ She rubs her temple, ‘deeds have been committed and sometimes we cannot be proud of those whom have given life to us, to our forefathers and foremothers.
‘And she is one whom we should perhaps be least proud of.’ She stops there, saying no more. Nenloth or Neume , as is her given name, understands; she knows of what deeds her grandmother speaks.
‘Why then should I have this necklace?’ She asks, frowning at the beautiful box within the palm of her hands.
‘I am going to leave on the next ship…’ Antaine says, almost solemnly.
Nenloth drops the box to the ground and it makes a loud matellatic clanging sound as it hits the stone floor. Nenloth’s features seem as though stricken, her mouth hangs open for a moment before she realises herself.
Antaine, Nenloth’s Grandmother leans down to pick up the box, frowning. She places the box next to herself and then she turns to her granddaughter. Moments pass where she simply looks to her granddaughter’s beautiful black hair, her pale milk-white skin and dark grey eyes that shine with the exuberance of youth.
Reaching out, Antaine touches Nenloth’s hair, affectionately she runs her hands over Nenloth’s long black locks. ‘You have such beautiful hair…’ She comments, smiling with warmth.
‘Anammë…’ Nenloth says, hoarsely, her features show that she is stricken.
‘I do not wish to take the necklace with me and it is of such beauty that…’
‘I do not care for it! I would not wish for a thousand beautiful necklaces… I cannot be without you anammë, please…’ Nenloth begs, her heart aches within her and the world seems as though to no longer exist, only her grief exists now; already she mourns for her grandmother.
‘Silly child… You will see me again soon enough, when you join us…’ Antaine moves a hand to her Granddaughter’s chin, taking it and turning Nenloth’s face toward herself. She muses again at Nenloth’s fine features. ‘Years, even decades, they can seem when you are young, to be long and perhaps even limited but with time the expansive years seem as though one lifetime among many that you will have.’ She pauses for a moment, taking the box again and then passing it to her Granddaughter.
Hesitantly, Nenloth takes the box, looking down to it and then trying to pull away from her grandmother’s grip. ‘Don’t go…’ She asks, her cheeks now wet with tears.
‘The call has proven too great for me to ignore...’ Antaine frowns, her eyes also begin to water. ‘Look at the pair of us… Crying as though newborns.’ She smiles to herself, taking a kerchief from a small fold within her dress and then she reaches to wipe the tears from Nenloth’s face.
‘Stay…’ Nenloth pleads. ‘Do not leave me alone with Angoldor…’
‘Stop it child…’ Antaine scolds. ‘He is your brother.’
‘I hate him…’ Nenloth replies, pouting and then crossing her arms over her chest.
‘He is your brother…’ Antaine sighs loudly. ‘This rivalry of yours… It must stop.’ She shakes her head and satisfied that Nenloth’s face is dry she lets her hand fall into her lap. ‘I suppose it is your Mother’s fault, she had you so late and he was already 14 yen when you were conceived… The expanse of time was bound to cause some form of boundary to form between you.’ She sighs again, smiling to her stubborn granddaughter. ‘It was to be expected.’
‘It’s not to do with the years between us.’ Nenloth protests. ‘He thinks that he is always right, he acts as though he is my father…’ Nenloth scoffs.
‘Hush child… Let not one of our last meetings be tarnished with words that do not lean toward the pursuit of happiness.’ Antaine smiles, leaning forward and kissing her granddaughter on the cheek.
‘If that I could join you… I do feel the call as well…’ Nenloth sighs, ‘but I feel within my very being that I must be here… That there is something I must achieve.’ Nenloth sighs, ‘I am sure of it.’
‘Then you must follow your instincts Neume. I trust in your judgement.’ Antaine smiles warmly.
‘I will miss you… Once I am finished with what I must do… When I know what it is that I must do…’ Nenloth-Neume frowns, furrowing her brow. ‘I will be on the next ship afterward… I love you Anammë’ Nenloth looks up to her Grandmother, hope within her youthful eyes.
‘I will wait at the next harbour for you, the first face that you will see in those lands shall be mine …’
Antaine smiles lovingly to her granddaughter. Moving a hand to brush a stray black hair from Nenloth’s face. ‘I will think of you every day that the sun rises and I will smile every time a bell chimes.’
‘Why when bells chime?’ Nenloth screws up her face, confused.
‘Your singing voice, like the chiming of bells fair granddaughter,’ Antaine laughs. She regards Nenloth once more. So young, and now flowering as though the very spring of her life has begun… She muses at how her Granddaughter has grown, only now reaching 20 in the years man, not an infant any longer but still a child.
‘You only think that because you have to.’ Nenloth protests.
‘Perhaps I am biased… I do not think on it.’ Antaine replies. Sighing she then looks up to the stars. ‘I must finish packing up my belongings… I will see you in the morning and then we will talk more before I leave ..’
Nenloth frowns as her grandmother stands to leave, watching her weave her way through the tall bushes and long stemmed flowers as she exits the garden.
‘I will be alone…’ She says silently within the almost darkness. She looks again to the ruined statue at the end of the garden. Remembering when the statues had been hauled across the land and then brought to the harbour.
How strange it had been to see scaled versions of many now dead ancestors, each remembered in flawless stone and how strange that they should now be left in this garden, with the weather to wear away at them until no-one remembers and until no-one is left to remember.
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That Night Nenloth watches the stars, holding the necklace and wishing that she could leave with her Grandmother, sailing west and into the undying lands.
**** Any names mentioned other than Angoldor and Nenloth are names used for the sake of my own charcter's story and they do not exist within game
