And again - Light & Dark 7.2
Jan. 18th, 2004 11:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessA story of ages past... actually at some point I may turn this into a full fic on it's own, if I ever get an excuse to write a stroy that took place several centuries ago anyway. Or maybe without an excuse...
“I am Sitharensor, scion of House Eternal Fire and Guardian of its light and honour. I proclaim my house strong and worthy, and let all who doubt hear my tale.
“Many years have passed since the fae of the isles, the very heart of faerie power, were threatened by a cold menace from across the sea. ‘Twas scant years after the 7th Pure Royal Exodus of Kings and the land felt the loss of her shining children like a wound to her heart. In this time of joy and sorrow, the north men came. With iron and anger they did come to this land, enslaving and driving our kin before them. Our hearts burned as our mortal vassals were forced to appease the raiders with the wealth they had toiled for. Our minds raged as the mortal kings were forced to cede more and more land to the iron men, to the winter men.
“But our outrage for our human kin was nothing for the searing hate when the northmen’s own immortal kin crossed the sea. Tall and mighty they were, strong in arm and weapons, girded with a warrior’s life and a soldier’s training. They were cold, cold and implacable as the winter, and near as cruel. Their honour would not allow for mercy, their greed would give no quarter to the gentle guardians of this land. Brothers of rock and snow, they knew not the warmth and joy they so casually tore asunder. Across the land, the fae fell back. Holy caern after caern fell, glens were despoiled with blood, great halls torn down. It seemed that the whole of the land would freeze under the invaders touch. With so many of the shining children, the sidhe nobility, gone it seemed hope itself would freeze.
“Even the High King knew despair. A king of the Seelie he was, and heavy did the death in his lands weigh on his heart. But he could not let Avalon fall.
“His heralds ran forth, messages faster than the wind and stronger than the storm, they called to every corner of the realm. ‘Come!’ he cried, ‘come ye all to Avalon! Come ye all of the blood, for never shall an invader step foot on this sacred soil ere it is watered in the blood of those who hold it in their hearts! They will not have the soul of the land, not while I draw breath and my people know honour!’ And so, the fae came from all corners to Avalon, willing to abandon all their holy sites, that they might protect the holiest of all.
“But Lord Tetheril the Saviour, ancestor of my line, and grandfather of my self, did not heed the call, though it weighed heavily on his heart. He sent the best and brightest of his warrior to the King’s call, keeping only his direct kin, who, like him, could not answer. For they were of House Eternal Fire. They were loyal to the king, but the land held their fealty before all others. They could not let the northmen quench the eternal flame. They could not, it would destroy them more surely than ever the northmen’s axes could.
“He rode forth, not to Avalon, but to the eastern sea he had sworn to protect. A full quarter of the armies of the northmen rode to meet him, each eager for the honour and gold of the eternal flame. Alone stood the sidhe of Eternal Fire. A scant dozen of them against a field of hundreds, they stood alone, unbroken, unbent.
“’Twas not the northmen who launched the charge. The sidhe of Eternal Fire, lit by the light of their souls, were the ones to strike the first blow, unflinching even into the jaws of death. And it was death they brought.
“Never had the northmen faced the sidhe. Never had they known what power, what passion, what beauty existed in the world! Never had the faced the divine power of the sidhe before, power to smite even the greatest giant, power to lay regiments of Trolls low before them! The sidhe charged and the northmen fell back as the very land itself turned in outrage to the Lord’s call.
“It was not enough. Though each sidhe brought down a dozen of their lesser enemies, it was not enough. The sidhe began to die, though the very sky rained blood and screamed its pain at such loss! Aie, such pain the land must have felt at each passing!
“And in the land’s scream was silence. For the battle had stopped. Weary, but unrelenting, the remaining sidhe raised their swords in defiant challenge to the despoilers, who fell back, unable to meet the gaze of the lords of the fae. One fae came forth from the throng, one Troll to account for the holy blood his ravagers had spilt. He came forth to face Lord Tetheril and found the Saviour ready with a blade in hand, no trace of surrender on his brow. No trace of defeat in his eyes that stared through to the Troll’s very soul, laying bare his inferiority before the lands’ avatars.
“Under that gaze... the Troll knelt. In a voice like the awe of mountains he proclaimed to his army ‘I am Aesrick, first among you. I am your lord. And I bow before these beings. Never before has their been creatures as blessed as these. Never before was their a being so clearly chosen by the gods! See their beauty! See their glory! See their power that can allow so few to stand against so many! Feel their might! I cannot raise my axe against such as this, to do so would be to raise my axe to the gods themselves! I cannot do it. I will not do it.’
The horde stood in stunned silence, all eyes turned towards the shining nobles who stood unafraid in the face of death. On each awe inspiring face was written the simple truth - the sidhe were the rulers of the fae, the greatest of the fae, the first among all of us. Slowly, but fervently, the army fell to their knees, unable to do else before that wondrous truth. Unable to do else before their true lords.
And so I proclaim my house and my worth. House Eternal Fire, who brought the northmen to heel.”
Sitharensor’s voice died slowly as he bowed to his father, then to Ilatheril’s father, before standing down next to Ilatheril. The hall lay in silence as the gentle images of a glorious age faded.
“I am Sitharensor, scion of House Eternal Fire and Guardian of its light and honour. I proclaim my house strong and worthy, and let all who doubt hear my tale.
“Many years have passed since the fae of the isles, the very heart of faerie power, were threatened by a cold menace from across the sea. ‘Twas scant years after the 7th Pure Royal Exodus of Kings and the land felt the loss of her shining children like a wound to her heart. In this time of joy and sorrow, the north men came. With iron and anger they did come to this land, enslaving and driving our kin before them. Our hearts burned as our mortal vassals were forced to appease the raiders with the wealth they had toiled for. Our minds raged as the mortal kings were forced to cede more and more land to the iron men, to the winter men.
“But our outrage for our human kin was nothing for the searing hate when the northmen’s own immortal kin crossed the sea. Tall and mighty they were, strong in arm and weapons, girded with a warrior’s life and a soldier’s training. They were cold, cold and implacable as the winter, and near as cruel. Their honour would not allow for mercy, their greed would give no quarter to the gentle guardians of this land. Brothers of rock and snow, they knew not the warmth and joy they so casually tore asunder. Across the land, the fae fell back. Holy caern after caern fell, glens were despoiled with blood, great halls torn down. It seemed that the whole of the land would freeze under the invaders touch. With so many of the shining children, the sidhe nobility, gone it seemed hope itself would freeze.
“Even the High King knew despair. A king of the Seelie he was, and heavy did the death in his lands weigh on his heart. But he could not let Avalon fall.
“His heralds ran forth, messages faster than the wind and stronger than the storm, they called to every corner of the realm. ‘Come!’ he cried, ‘come ye all to Avalon! Come ye all of the blood, for never shall an invader step foot on this sacred soil ere it is watered in the blood of those who hold it in their hearts! They will not have the soul of the land, not while I draw breath and my people know honour!’ And so, the fae came from all corners to Avalon, willing to abandon all their holy sites, that they might protect the holiest of all.
“But Lord Tetheril the Saviour, ancestor of my line, and grandfather of my self, did not heed the call, though it weighed heavily on his heart. He sent the best and brightest of his warrior to the King’s call, keeping only his direct kin, who, like him, could not answer. For they were of House Eternal Fire. They were loyal to the king, but the land held their fealty before all others. They could not let the northmen quench the eternal flame. They could not, it would destroy them more surely than ever the northmen’s axes could.
“He rode forth, not to Avalon, but to the eastern sea he had sworn to protect. A full quarter of the armies of the northmen rode to meet him, each eager for the honour and gold of the eternal flame. Alone stood the sidhe of Eternal Fire. A scant dozen of them against a field of hundreds, they stood alone, unbroken, unbent.
“’Twas not the northmen who launched the charge. The sidhe of Eternal Fire, lit by the light of their souls, were the ones to strike the first blow, unflinching even into the jaws of death. And it was death they brought.
“Never had the northmen faced the sidhe. Never had they known what power, what passion, what beauty existed in the world! Never had the faced the divine power of the sidhe before, power to smite even the greatest giant, power to lay regiments of Trolls low before them! The sidhe charged and the northmen fell back as the very land itself turned in outrage to the Lord’s call.
“It was not enough. Though each sidhe brought down a dozen of their lesser enemies, it was not enough. The sidhe began to die, though the very sky rained blood and screamed its pain at such loss! Aie, such pain the land must have felt at each passing!
“And in the land’s scream was silence. For the battle had stopped. Weary, but unrelenting, the remaining sidhe raised their swords in defiant challenge to the despoilers, who fell back, unable to meet the gaze of the lords of the fae. One fae came forth from the throng, one Troll to account for the holy blood his ravagers had spilt. He came forth to face Lord Tetheril and found the Saviour ready with a blade in hand, no trace of surrender on his brow. No trace of defeat in his eyes that stared through to the Troll’s very soul, laying bare his inferiority before the lands’ avatars.
“Under that gaze... the Troll knelt. In a voice like the awe of mountains he proclaimed to his army ‘I am Aesrick, first among you. I am your lord. And I bow before these beings. Never before has their been creatures as blessed as these. Never before was their a being so clearly chosen by the gods! See their beauty! See their glory! See their power that can allow so few to stand against so many! Feel their might! I cannot raise my axe against such as this, to do so would be to raise my axe to the gods themselves! I cannot do it. I will not do it.’
The horde stood in stunned silence, all eyes turned towards the shining nobles who stood unafraid in the face of death. On each awe inspiring face was written the simple truth - the sidhe were the rulers of the fae, the greatest of the fae, the first among all of us. Slowly, but fervently, the army fell to their knees, unable to do else before that wondrous truth. Unable to do else before their true lords.
And so I proclaim my house and my worth. House Eternal Fire, who brought the northmen to heel.”
Sitharensor’s voice died slowly as he bowed to his father, then to Ilatheril’s father, before standing down next to Ilatheril. The hall lay in silence as the gentle images of a glorious age faded.