Vannae stared down at her pleading daughter, wincing at the cool eyes staring back up at her. She turned to face Morinvala, and sighed, kneading her hands together in her lap.
“You are honest and truthful, I cannot hide it no more. Do you recall what I have spoke to you about our family history?”
“Well, there is more that you do not know,” Vannae paused. “The Valar accepted our decision, yet denied us. They were ashamed, and decided, under false pretentious. Decieved by their own blindness they layed a warning upon us, cursing us, just as they had cursed Fëanor and all the others. My father was sent to meet with the Valar; he was told that every 100 years Tilion would change his shape into the fiercest ally of Morgoth, a Dragon. Illuvator proclaimed that any Moriquendi who looked upon this Dragon Moon would perish thereafter, and with whom he lived with. We have heard tales of lesser family’s who had been murdered following a Dragon night.”
“But…why? Why are we cursed so horribly? What is it that we have done wrong?”
Vannae struggled smile, “We did not see the light of the Trees; They and the other Elves have never taken our decision lightly. And for those who made that decision has passed this curse down through each generation until the last of the Moriquendi is no more.”
Vannae’s strained voice echoed through the silent halls. Morinvala swallowed hard, memories of happiness fled her, leaving her filled with dread and despair. She stood up silently and left the room. She crossed the hall searching for her father. She entered his Study which stood empty. Morinvala glanced towards the disinteresting work that laid scattered across Salessa’s escritoire. She curled up in his Kingly chair, tears forming at her eyes. She had cursed her family; she had sealed their fates.
The light shone into her room once more, Morinvala’s breath came out in ragged gasps as she drew closer to her window. Her trembling hand swept away the curtain; she screamed and stepped back. The Dragon Moon was alive; its illuminated wings flapped against the wind, the sound of it filled her room. Her window swung open, the Dragon’s snout breathed red flames that filled her room. She screamed again and threw her arms around her, the blistering heat scorching against her skin.
“I’m sorry!” she cried helplessly, “I didn’t mean it!”
Morinvala felt the searing pain upon bare flesh; the noise of cracklling skin filled the scorched air. Pain. So much Pain. Then, it stopped. The pain was gone, everything was gone. She looked around her bewildered; a sudden light fell around her, not cast by that of flame, but of something more beautiful. Morinvala’s hand flew to her eyes, shielding them, in a quick glance into the bright light, her keen eyes picked ouy two tree-like figures. She gasped in shock, it was the Two Trees. The ones her ancestors would not look upon. A voice startled her; it did not come from the sir, but in her mind. A voice full of magnificience and of great power.
“Morinvala, plareë Vannae sar Saleesa, Nabrõ sar Kleîn ‘ia Moriquendi, lûsa vevui neés.” (Morinvala, daughter of Vannae and Saleesa, King and Queen of the Moriquendi, I welcome you.)
“Neés slðve lûsa xeälis.” (You speak my tongue.)
“Traé lûsa placiënt. Lûsa trobrack Illuvator, sar neés, tei brãisont wevmein.” (Yes, I do. I am named Illuvator. And you are someone of great importance.)
“How so?” She asked curiously.
The voice did not reply, but she still felt its prescence.
Morinvala eyed the trees greedily, “Where am I?”
“You are at the mound of Ezellohar, that is named also Corollairë. I have taken you here, in the Past, to be the first of your people to look upon the Light of the Trees before Ungoliant destroyed them.”
More silence, anger rose up in Morinvala, “How could have punished us so? We wanted to live in peace, amongst the quiet trees of Yavanna. Yet, you punish us for not moving on, but staying where we loved.”
“Morgoth. I have no power over the decisions made by the Valar. But it was Morgoth who decieved their hearts, whispering lies. Out of the Elves, the Moriquendi were more hated by him. There love of thing’s around him drew him into a blinding hatred. As a shadow he was formed and slipped into the Chambers of the Valar, whispering deciete to them. They came together with one thought, to achieve what they had in their hearts, the will of Morgoth.”
“The Valar were wrong, they were willed into another doing.”
“Yes, but, it was too late before they realised what had happened. They could not take back what they had said, and now live in anguish over what has happened.”
Morinvala glanced at the tree’s and asked once more, “Why is it that Im here?”
“You must stay alive, live tonight. You are here, in the Past, before the Tree’s were destroyed by Ungoliant. The power’s within you need to be awakened, for your unborn daugter will need them, and shall save Middle-earth, when you perish.”
Morinvala stood startled and confused, the voice continued.
“The power’s you need as well, for you need to defend yourself and to protect your body from any harm, before you concieve your firstborn.”
“I do not understand,” she whispered.
Morinvala felt the voice smile, “You will learn in time. Now, step upon the mound and touch the Tree’s.”
Morinvala stood silently in awe; the Tree’s became brighter, but inviting. Morinvala stepped forward upon the golden mound, her hands reaching out to the leaves. Her fingers stroked the velvet limbs, a surge of power swept through her, leaving her breathless and eerily calm. Illuvator spoke to her once more as she stepped away from the mound, refreshed and awake.
“The power of the Trees fills your blood, awakening your powers and your senses. Now, heed what I have said, protect yourself, the fate of Middle-earth depends on it.”
The voice faded, panic began to rise in Morinvala’s throat. “Wait! Do not leave, I beg of you, spare my family upon the eve of dusk.”
There was silence, then He answered, “I cannot spare them, only you can save them. The power you now hold is enough.”
Tears formed at the young Elf’s eyes, she watched as the light of the Tree’s diminished and faded into darkness. Above her a softer light formed, piercing through the lonely darkness. It swept around her like a cool evening breeze, and she found herself sitting in her father’s seat once again. The silence of the house filled her senses, darkness fell through the stained glass window that was set upon the far wall. A sudden realisation hit her, night had fallen, death was waiting.
Author’s Note: I have made up about the Family History, please dont badger me about it, Im trying my best not to have the Moriquendi’s be ‘evil’. But to show what others think of them from the Moriquendi’s point of view. Also, the Moriquendi was made by me, yet again…blah blah blah, you know what I mean.