《West of Arda》Losengriol

6、Chapter six

　　First I spun the silver threads, which Vair? said was most precious. Then I moved onto the golden threads. At first glance, they appeared to be the kind that Noldorin nobles often wore in their hair and wrought into crowns and ringlets. But Vair?’s threads were far lighter and pliable. It took me days to pick out all the gold yarns. Or even weeks. I could not remember.

　　After a few weeks, or maybe months of labour, I started to sort out the rest of the colours. Each long thread slipped by my hands and split into even thinner filaments. The room was unlit, but I could still see. It was so quiet.

　　One day I thought I should ask Vair? if I really needed to sort out every single thread in this room. But the Valier was nowhere to be seen. After a few rounds of protests and inquiries, one of her ladies was asked to speak to me. It was Miriel Perind?. I have never seen her alive but was still shocked by how pale and translucent she was.

　　In the infuriating and elusive way only a spirit could, she told me that Lady Vair? would see me, once I completed the sorting as she had ordered.

　　The hall was so dark and quiet. Time was barred from entering. There were spirits around, but they rarely appeared. I started to wander the hallways and the alcoves. They were lined with Vair?’s tapestries. They were like music, a passage from a lore book. Initially the rhythm and cadence were unfamiliar and strange. As I looked at them longer and longer, I started to understand the tune.

　　It was not a happy tune.

　　There were days I thought it was alright to be here. The music of Ainurs was full of grief. It was replayed over and over again to the point of exhaustion. I was glad to be outside of it. There were also days I cried. There were happier times. Now they were out of my grasp.

　　Every so often, I would still sit down and wind the threads for Vair? and her handmaidens. I also had my theory as how those silver threads came to be. She said that they were brought to her by the spirits. But only slain or dead elves came to Mandos. Maybe those were from their f?a, extorted by the god of death and his Weaver wife so they could document the music for Ill?vatar.

　　The music kept replaying. Round and round they blurred into one. I cannot remember how long I had been here or how I ended up here. I had to think hard to recall the times in Tirion. With resentment I thought, it was less likely they sent me here to learn, rather, I was meant to forget.

　　After I spent hours sorting the seemingly endless silver threads, I wandered around in a daze. The darkness of the corridors was soothing, because I did not need to squint at the threads and the sharp spindles.

　　I had bled earlier from pricking my finger accidentally with the tip of the silver spindle. I let droplets of blood hit the floor and then decided to at least try sucking the wound.

　　Suddenly, something in the dark tripped me over as I was putting my finger between my lips. I screamed, but no sound came out.

　　Then I fell into deeper darkness.

　　When I finally woke up, there was a pounding headache threatening to burst out of my head. I groaned softly and cradled my head, hoping to lessen the pain.

　　Then the light suddenly came on.

　　At the far corner of the room, there was a pile of white marble. As my eyes started to focus, I realised that it was not marble, but rather a man, fully naked, being chained to the dark iron stand.

　　This was new. The Hall of Spirits was gloomy and depressing but most of the spirits here wandered as they pleased. This particular one, for some reason, had to be bound.

　　My curiosity peaked. Spirits were very difficult to approach. They preferred to keep to themselves in solitude. I knew from eavesdropping and spying that Mandos routinely received slain elves from across the Great Sea. A few times I tried to approach one for observation, but they got away almost immediately.

　　This one, being bound, could not flutter away easily from me.

　　As I edged closer and closer cautiously, I suddenly felt his gaze upon me.

　　It was then did I realise that he was strikingly beautiful. I did mistake his torso and limbs for white marble earlier, but they were almost translucent when looking from closer. Long, dark hair cascaded down beyond his shoulder, waist and hip, flowed around like pool of molten coal by his feet.

　　His eyes were the colour of pure amethyst. At first glance, they were a shade of deep ultramarine. The blue soon gave way to a rich, almost regal purple violet. At the edge of his pupils, there were flecks of gold scattered onto a backdrop of delicate quinacridone rose.

　　There was power in his eyes.

　　“Come closer.”

　　The voice came although his lips barely moved. He spoke in an unfamiliar accent, a lilting yet smooth cadence to his quenya. He was not of Eldar.

　　I hesitated. This one, unlike other spirits, might not be safe to approach.

　　After a moment, he smiled. His lips were the colour of summer rose, curving upwards elegantly. “I wish you no harm.” He lifted one arm against the heavy, rattling chain. “Child of Eru, let me look at you closely.”

　　I stared at the heavy black chains and the pale, delicate wrists they bound tightly. I doubt he could do me harm if I did not get too close. With caution, I closely moved to a step’s distance away from him.

　　Pale star light streamed onto the bound man. He looked as if he should reside amongst the silver stars but somehow accidentally fell from the heaven. He looked at me closely.

　　“You are not a spirit.”

　　“No, I am not.”

　　“Only spirits are permitted in the Hall of Námo F?anturi.” He tilted his head and looked at me quizzically.

　　“Well, I was sent here to learn from the Aratars.” I felt myself stutter at the beginning, but words came out easily after. “But so far, what I had been doing was trying to wind up Vair?’s threads for her. They would only teach me after I have done her task.”

　　“Really.”

　　He paused, then smiled again in amusement. “Did you know that Vair?’s yarns were enchanted? She used them to spin fabric of time. Only when time comes to end, will the thread cease to grow.”

　　It took me several moments to understand his words.

　　Vair?’s threads grow with time. Only when time ends will they stop growing. Then how was I supposed to ever finish sorting them?

　　Panic started to rise in my throat. Cold sweats like beads rolling down my forehead. I cannot stay here forever! I had made a promise to someone, long ago…that I would show him things I learnt. But where was that? And who was the person that I promised?

　　Tears streaming down my cheeks. How I resented crying! There had to be other ways.

　　Suddenly an idea struck my heart.

　　This man, whoever his name was, had power. “Would you teach me then?” I climbed closer, until I was completely under his gaze. There could be no worse fate than being trapped here. “You knew the secret craft, didn’t you?”

　　He smiled.

　　“Come closer still, child.” His voice, while soft and beautiful, now had a sense of commanding to it. As if he knew the power had suddenly shifted and now I was ensnared.

　　But I was always ensnared. It did not matter. The music had a bad beginning. I would claw my way out.

　　I obeyed. Inch by inch I moved closer to him until his breath fell onto the top of my head. His voice was enthralling. “So you desired to learn of my craft.” He whispered. Darkness pooled around us, then the space was lit by a shimmering green-ish blue light.

　　I could only nod stiffly.

　　“So here was the promise.” He suddenly bent his head. His lips were very cold, as icy as the snow range that barred the limit of the world. The kiss he placed was on my left eye. It burnt for days on end.

　　But I was content, for I knew I could learn what was promised and then denied.