Roquen Riveon swiftly moved through the silent streets of Tekor. He pulled his cloak tightly around him as the wind grew colder. Why Uryas summoned him, he did not know. He turned down a side street. The elf saw Uryas’s small carpenter’s shop and headed towards it. He pounded on the door and waited. A chill ran down his spine. Not a chill caused by the cold, but by darkness. Roquen sensed the wraiths as they crept through the shadows beyond the village wall.
The door opened and an elderly elf motioned for him to come in. His long silver hair shimmered in the light of the fireplace. “Mornië fana fanyarë fëanàro luin.” Roquen said to Uryas. “Darkness veils the sky, Master of the Blue Flame. I am curious as to why you have called me away from my duties.”
“Come, Rochben,” Uryas said. Roquen cringed at the sound of his true name. “We have matters to discuss about your ‘duties.'” Roquen followed the elderly elf into a side room. They sat at a table by a fireplace. Roquen pulled back the hood of his cloak and ran a hand through his long brown hair.
“Why am I here?” Roquen asked.
“Why did you leave your post?” asked Uryas. “Why have you left the Mountain of Curunir?”
“To bring to pass the will of the council.” Roquen’s face softened. “To start a family.”
“Has he been born then?”
“He is four years old.” Roquen bowed his head. “We just had his Yénonótië.” He paused. “And I want to go back to them.”
Uryas frowned. “You know that is forbidden,” he said softly. “You have forsaken your duties as guardian of the Blue Flame. The punishment is banishment from the role of guardian and from seen your family.”
“But it was the will of the council!” Roquen snapped. He slammed a fist on the table. “You yourself told me that I would raise the Chosen One.”
“Even if you tried to go back, it would be too late,” a deep voice stated. The flames upon the hearth blazed blue. A large spark leapt from the inferno. Uryas extended a hand and the spark morphed into the shape of a hawk. Its plumage was not feather, but flame.
“Why is it too late, Argos.”
The blue phoenix cocked its head. “I know all the Council of Ketara envisioned five thousand years ago. I know their thoughts and their will,” said the magical creature. “Your unseen departure from Ketona devastated your wife. She will leave your son with a friend and seek you out. Before you can reunite, she will be hunted down by agents of the Wraith-lord.”
Roquen’s head dropped. “I would do anything to prove your words wrong,” he whispered. “But the burning in my heart testifies of their truth. And when the magic testifies so strong, I cannot deny it.”
“Do not grieve, Rochben,” Uryas said softly.
Roquen stood and walked into the neighboring room and fell upon a large couch. The image of his wife filled his mind. Her long dark hair, her soft voice, and her glistening eyes were all clear in his mind. Roquen saw his wife stumbling through the forest. Fiery eyes dark shadows surrounded her. He then saw her crying out in pain. The tears stung his eyes. He wiped them away but they kept flowing. “Ela!” He cried out between sobs. “Tìndomerèl talantie!” Roquen continued on in unintelligible elvish.
“What is he saying,” he heard Uryas ask.
“It is a lament for his wife,” answered Argos. “He says, ‘Behold! The daughter of twilight has fallen.”
Roquen felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked and sway Uryas crouched next the couch. “Be well, Knight of the dark mountain.” Roquen found some comfort in the elder’s words. Uryas soon left and Argos vanished as quickly as he came. For hours he tried to sleep to no avail. The elf sat up and looked around the dark house. The fire sat as dying embers. He rose and gathered his belongings and went to the window. As he stared into the starless sky, the name land of Nilar came do mind. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Why Nilar, he thought.
The image of a young elven maiden entered his mind’s eye. Go to Nilar and bring her to Kotar. The urge to find the young maiden was powerful. His heart began to burn. Is it the call of the magic? Roquen turned to the door. Without hesitation, he stepped out into the cold of Telk and began his journey to Nilar.
* * *
Uryas awoke suddenly. He sat up in his bed to see Argos perched on the foot of his bed. “Rochben has left for Nilar. It has begun.”
More to come in this mystical tale of one’s quest to restore the lost elven magic.