Morwath Vision in Nagrad
Morwath’s Vision
“My lady, what brings you to my door?” asks the young oriental man, dressed in a simple brown cloth Kimono tied with an off-white obi.
“I am an emissary; forgive my appearance, Iki sama, I am no Sylvan elf.” The beautiful female removes her hood better to be seen. Her raven-black hair falls below her shoulders and her deep, dark eyes take on a more dangerous look. Her straight nose, high cheek bones and strong jaw line deliver a powerful symmetry which cannot be ignored. She smiles sweetly, revealing perfect, sharp, white teeth.
“Then who are you and why are you here?” Demands the oriental man, leaning forward slightly but remaining sat on the floor, legs-crossed. The elf walks slowly and silently across the polished hard wood floor, kneels and bows deeply from the waist. Returning to an upright position she expertly begins the tea ceremony, delicately lifting the long-necked tea pot arranged on the low wooden table that divides the two.
“I am Inwe, daughter born out of the love of Fringol and Ulva. I am sister to Eolorand, who wrote this book.” From inside her green robe she retrieves a large black book.
“I apologise, I am not schooled in the lore of elves and have heard little of your relatives. Perhaps you would be better talking to Essulim or Lucielle?” The man appears ready to leave but is intrigued by how well the elf in front of him is conducting the ceremony.
“No need to apologise, sama; I would not have expected you to know my folk. However, do you know yours?”
“What do you mean? My parents died in Alon before I had a chance to know them.”
“Yes, I know. Your life is full of sorrow; but I am here to bring you news that may assist and perhaps, if you will allow, to show you things that I believe will be of great interest to you.” She bows low again taking the heat out of the situation and chooses her words carefully, “I know the elves you mention well – great leaders, valiant and true to their folk. Are they true to you, sama? Do they recognise your valour and what you have accomplished for them? Are they willing to share their power with one of your folk on equal terms?”
“What are you getting at?” the man’s tone is level but there is an obvious anger threatening to bubble to the surface.
“Why are you not at the Council?”
“What Council?”
“The Council of Aarda where the mighty Essulim of the Vikriain has called together such lords as: Shono Na of this very Monastery; Ythanos, son of Eomere; Haemrandir of Numenorea; Gloun of Hama’Las; Grobdûr of Fangor Rodrus and the lady Lucielle of the Sylvan Lands. They are called together to discuss the Great Mage’s artefacts and how they should be apportioned. Why has not the mighty lord, first to bear all the Elemental Rings since Lastar himself, been invited? Is your voice not to be heard?”
“How do you know of this council; if, indeed it exists?” the irritation is obvious.
“Oh it exists. They meet in Minas Aarda as we speak no doubt discussing what to do with the Crown you so graciously surrendered to the Sylvan Elves and perhaps the Gem.”
“What do you know of the Gem?” His tone is more conspiratorial.
“Only what I have read” she taps the book lightly with a long manicured finger nail, “and what was passed to me by my folk – my father fought alongside Lastar Sarnim.”
“What is in that book?”
“Much lore my lord. My brother studied the ancient arts carefully and was led by our Lady in a voyage of great discovery. This book is the unmentioned appendix to the Codicil; that which Curial would counsel most strongly against you reading. From this and many other things, sama, you have been kept apart – in the dark if you will. But it is from the darkness that man has come in great triumph. You have used the shadows to great affect in the past, use them again now. This book and my Lady will show you how.” She offers him her tea.
“I have what I set out to achieve – my destiny is fulfilled. I am the Ring Bearer. Why would I need this book?” His interest has been pricked, his eyes are more animated now moving from the elf to the book and back to the elf, ignoring the offered cup.
“Will they allow you to keep these artefacts? They know that you have a greater purpose than merely being their instrument – wielding the Rings as they command, whilst they secretly fear you. You should be a King in your own right – they know that.” She retrieves the cup sips some tea delicately and, turning the cup, offers it once again with a slight bow, “Why should a mere Castellan be held in greater esteem than the one mighty enough to have discovered the Rings and now bear them?”
“That is true. However, I am sure that Eomere would see things differently…”
“He may,” interrupts the elf, “but does his son? It is Ythanos, not Eomere who is at the Council. The elves and the dwarves know only too well the power that you wield; do you not think that they are jealous?” He takes the cup, sips slowly drinking in more than tea, his mind clearly examining all possibilities.
“Who are you Lady?”
“As I have said, I am Inwe, although my name is inconsequential. I am a descendant of the oldest and purest of all elven races. I am here to ensure justice is done now and that justice is restored to the land - once law abiding and true. I am asking you to take up your true quest and fulfil your destiny and not to be a vassal of other jealous and power hungry lords. Seize the moment, you can ensure the land is law abiding once more, that is it ruled for the common good, without anarchy and chaos. You will demand that all the races are treated equally regardless of creed and rightly punish those disobeying the law.” She lifts the pot to refill his now empty cup.