Post by ciaran on Jul 15, 2010 14:54:17 GMT -5
Sometimes if one has the patience to sit very still, can the faces of the past in all the smallest moments of happiness be seen. A pure mirror image of joy that remains untainted by the stretching blur of immortality. The world seems to quiet, grow still and the only sound is blood swooshing through your veins, air rushing from your lungs and the strength of your pounding heart as you then realize that like softly glowing fireflies on iridescent wings do good thoughts flee from the shadow of bat wings traversing into memory.
There was always the violin, it's beauty the only gift of better times she'd held onto. It dated back to before the coming of men, when the great Telari sung and created instruments of music that would rob anyone of their will to move, if just to listen to the snippets of song. The curse that forever lay on her lineage was felt in her heart, even at the time of her birth when the rashness of Feanor was not fresh but still a darkness on all who were Noldor. It belonged to her mother, she remembered that much and a flute, her fathers. But it was her brother who claimed that lofty sound, one she'd not heard in years. On a hill overlooking Mirkwood was she perched atop a flat faced stone, the mossy blanket soft and springy beneath her bare hands, scars countless in knots and twisted looks for only Varda to see. A small stand of trees were clustered behind her, where her mare rested and a fire glowed dimly. A harsh caw reached her tapered ears, a weight rested on her shoulder and a raven's sharp beak alongside her cheek. Stroking the feathery chest did she whisper softly and the avian lord swept back up into the twilight darkness. Alone again, just the relic of memory, strings waiting to be touched and bow wanting to be lifted. A sigh moved from somewhere deep, heavy and full of emotion.
"Alright my dear, I sha'll oblige.”
The violin rested in the crook of her neck and atop her shoulder with cheek pressed slightly. Bow was raised. There was no real answer as to how it began, but it was unstoppable once started. A trickle of music pealed forth a whining chorus of touched strings teased into submission to produce the chords of a song that was written and performed from the soul. Fingertips stroked and her provoked voice was raised. Threaded like silver through rough stone, gold glistening in the bottom of a murky riverbed and gems that shimmered from the depths of dwarvish mines was her lilt so pure. A melodic tone of soprano beauty passed her lips,
"You will slip away, ere over the sea
On a wave of despair, forever away
If you should look upon my face, you'll slip, slip. "
"No love further will you find pounding
Betrayal you've brought with dagger bloody
But though you be death, I want you, want you. "
"Release me from this torment of yearning
My heart I beg you return
The sea keeps churning, a storm coming
To sweep me away my love, my love. "
"From the top of the highest peak I'll cry
My body flung down from the heights
An eagle sha'll carry me onward, to follow the smoke of your pyre.
My body and heart burn with you, burn with you always. "
The song ended. It was more a lament to loss and the cruel years that stretched ever onward. The last echo of voice and strummed tune hung in a balance before only the symphony of night could be heard to follow and soothe. Unchecked tears had left their marks on her pale cheeks. Dripping from that delicate chin upon her lap and resting viol. A sudden breath was sucked in, as Ciaren then righted herself. This was no time for crying, it was no use wishing that loneliness would flee when your ostracize yourself, turning into something feral and untouched. Rising slowly, did she brush every fleeting emotion and care, loves lost, and freedoms gained away. Turning her face upward towards the streaming moonlight, did she place her focus on the cold reality of now.
There was always the violin, it's beauty the only gift of better times she'd held onto. It dated back to before the coming of men, when the great Telari sung and created instruments of music that would rob anyone of their will to move, if just to listen to the snippets of song. The curse that forever lay on her lineage was felt in her heart, even at the time of her birth when the rashness of Feanor was not fresh but still a darkness on all who were Noldor. It belonged to her mother, she remembered that much and a flute, her fathers. But it was her brother who claimed that lofty sound, one she'd not heard in years. On a hill overlooking Mirkwood was she perched atop a flat faced stone, the mossy blanket soft and springy beneath her bare hands, scars countless in knots and twisted looks for only Varda to see. A small stand of trees were clustered behind her, where her mare rested and a fire glowed dimly. A harsh caw reached her tapered ears, a weight rested on her shoulder and a raven's sharp beak alongside her cheek. Stroking the feathery chest did she whisper softly and the avian lord swept back up into the twilight darkness. Alone again, just the relic of memory, strings waiting to be touched and bow wanting to be lifted. A sigh moved from somewhere deep, heavy and full of emotion.
"Alright my dear, I sha'll oblige.”
The violin rested in the crook of her neck and atop her shoulder with cheek pressed slightly. Bow was raised. There was no real answer as to how it began, but it was unstoppable once started. A trickle of music pealed forth a whining chorus of touched strings teased into submission to produce the chords of a song that was written and performed from the soul. Fingertips stroked and her provoked voice was raised. Threaded like silver through rough stone, gold glistening in the bottom of a murky riverbed and gems that shimmered from the depths of dwarvish mines was her lilt so pure. A melodic tone of soprano beauty passed her lips,
"You will slip away, ere over the sea
On a wave of despair, forever away
If you should look upon my face, you'll slip, slip. "
"No love further will you find pounding
Betrayal you've brought with dagger bloody
But though you be death, I want you, want you. "
"Release me from this torment of yearning
My heart I beg you return
The sea keeps churning, a storm coming
To sweep me away my love, my love. "
"From the top of the highest peak I'll cry
My body flung down from the heights
An eagle sha'll carry me onward, to follow the smoke of your pyre.
My body and heart burn with you, burn with you always. "
The song ended. It was more a lament to loss and the cruel years that stretched ever onward. The last echo of voice and strummed tune hung in a balance before only the symphony of night could be heard to follow and soothe. Unchecked tears had left their marks on her pale cheeks. Dripping from that delicate chin upon her lap and resting viol. A sudden breath was sucked in, as Ciaren then righted herself. This was no time for crying, it was no use wishing that loneliness would flee when your ostracize yourself, turning into something feral and untouched. Rising slowly, did she brush every fleeting emotion and care, loves lost, and freedoms gained away. Turning her face upward towards the streaming moonlight, did she place her focus on the cold reality of now.