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Thíra Dhóua da Sha-Ímheáorcain an Phlían
Public Domain
Artist: Public Domain © 2004
King Shafhalóa, first King of Cátern, had a vision of the two towers beyond the Free Sea and the coming of the deadly Fire Era and the evil King Iluviuks.
He saw the falling of the elfin kingdoms and the cloak of shadow and fire consuming them.
The author of the Book of the Morning penned down the original Cáterneásh translation of the prophecy below.


« Story inspired by: Crystal Bogdan »

Tá Mishnach Gorg da Achoáin: Orám Rhuínn
Enduring the Crucible of Fire.


"[1] Á beá ní-fáuthaid odh Nheíthra-hÍlufain, gmeórchaid óig mheágbhíar. Ilubhí roídh an iá lhuíssa eábnoídh. Higgoínágh n’Luth cóa an rí í go ghalíernain láe ha, í-narch ber - melleóchadh hilubhí athlas an reáchas da háulainágh. Cóa bleácain an gcátern, go mbeá dacríemhaith mháiragh á hÍlufa-Óuicg beshíra áal pleáfadh ní odach, stír an mhaira-lóu, uámheáth gcí gceárthnain, uí coímheád dómh belnuír í argíláe sín an hÁshaárain, rí thaóumhnaimhóug a nóg. Sólaim s’áuphuá á aluín gcaláshí óig! Tref-surr óig sra fhennáigh odair man! Tref surr óig sra sháiseálagh odair, í naóg sruóseáchainó suras marg! Beá go huítharaith í ghafhorch - dta, na-fór áal cóa go óisheámh í go óishaómh! Uínloíach óig, mhaórgbhíar croáchaith, ó mhírbhíar áupuáid odashach í mber. Uámheáth a nóg, ha plefícadh gcuállain ní odach an dtír gcí mhoírlogh. Tírn ám staóch, í líemh an rí, o cátern, sra hIósamháin odair go fáelain an hárgílainn steách an sreíg. Áal-go-Hoícs an ngráigh ám hEcsíemh ber - coímheádain odach gcí dtreácach bin-haal s’mhoír da hÍlufa-Óuicg beshír."



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        It came to pass that the dark cloud of doom befell Arden. The rise of Medía Lankìnya caused unrest in the East, and Vaaluir was blackened as sackcloth. The Srías did not shine and the wings of Argul hid the omnivivacious light of the Queen. In the West, King Ruòl of Dunsha rose to power and took up arms against the elves in the East. He forgot the ways of Peace and the ways of his liege, King Exiv. His hatred of the East burned within his soul. The only satisfaction the King of Dunsha wanted, was the obliteration of the East. Unbeknownst to those in the East, but Medía Lankìnya conspired with the King of Dunsha, and anger filled his soul. Raising an army of men to rally the elves, he only wished to expand the kingdom of Exiv, who wielded the Collective Thought. Greed became his ally, and the test of time would lie on the shoulders of Medía Lankìnya, the River Guardian. She would create a "stumbling block" against the harmony of the elves in Eàshcain with hopes that she would be granted forgiveness for her deeds. Little did she think about her deeds, for they would consume her and trouble her soul even more. She only hoped that her sister would watch and reconcile her place in Vaaluir.
        I must find redemption, she worried. Perhaps, if I demonstrate the powers of the Blue Water, I will be saved, though the time of Water has not come to pass. The power of the elves is the key. They must be tested! She sat on her throne, putting her hope in the elves of the East. "Sadness proceeds Goodfortune," she acclaimed.
        In her right hand, Lankìnya wielded Phaíf, the scepter of the water gods. It symbolized her power and her might. It was adorned with the gems of the Blue River and the top of the scepter was crafted with the Àuleàr, the gem of thought. The throne of Lankìnya was centered on the Isle of Dreígga, in the Sea of Judgement. The river elves payed homage to her there and proclaimed her name with pride.
        Then, King Shafhaloá of Cátern saw the mood of the clouds and the power of Lankìnya. He saw the power of the river and the elves that protected the water. He knew war would fall upon him and the kingdom of elves. He sought aid with Lord Ellàphnoír in Yaívtag and Queen Sasìcseàgh of the Ice Lands against Lankìnya and the powers of men. Together, they united as one and chanted a song of blessing.

*Ghalíemh an òi, mhedía à sha da Luígh, go trugcain marg. Brían osh, o àulailàgh, í líeran na nheíthra-noíragga an hoían àupuáin athlas. Osh plían an gcalàshaigh à oíagh na Sheàmh àal-go-Nhuách gceàrthnain ní Fhaaluír.

O Sheàmh an Gra! Àudelgàch oshann dteàbhair!

Delgàch òshan ní hoíagh, Isàs an gCristarísh, àm dTeàbbair à ò-an lòu, man Reànna í Coímheàdain sí. Coímheàd oshan, o feànnain an gra da tDeàshacàinhain, cgí Laànceànha an cGloàmulàunn sí, go bhuállachain mhedíagh níc Bothainàgh. Uáheàgga Noreàsh an ghubhíbnain an òig balifagh à dtaleàr solaim-ghàpuánain, lím mo Làulain an Rí cgí dTeàbhairàgh an Lòu. Forèch oshann dtaleàragh cgí dTeàbhair an mo shaànn à uámhair.


        The elves sang out their spell of blessing to the Queen, and their voices echoed throughout this arden. Isàs heard their call and enchanted the tides of the clouds. A bellowing roll of thunder shook this arden, and the horses of Vaaluir galloped out of the heavens with a rush of thunder of Desikìnya. The whole arden heard the sound of thunder, echo everywhere, and then, the elves cried out and sang to Vaaluir. It was as if the end of life was at hand in this arden.


"Aòmh còa go ceàrtain ní Fhoínn Mheàtha í Bheshíra! Aleáragh Ardònain còa saíbhain an síehan nhu!"


        King Shafhalóa looked sky high and he was filled with delight. His countenance was gladdened at the sight of the storm of Isàs, racing through this realm of Arden. "The horses of heaven have come to my aid in this dreary hour. Glory be!" As the clouds of omnivivacious light dimmed, hope came and the horse legion of Isàs Cristarís descended as wheels of fire. Then, the elves sang again, as the storm stirred over the East.


"Aòmh còa go ceàrtain ní Fhoínn Mheàtha í Bheshíra! Aleáragh Ardònain còa saíbhain an síehan nhu!"


        "Alas, has the end come? Will the Concordant Summit stand upon the Holy Altar, which is not erected? " The elves wondered and meditated on their immortality. "This too shall pass. Shekìnya guards the Gleam of the Elevated Sunbeam. Destruction has not fallen. Glory be!"
        Lankìnya saw the delight in King Shafhalóa of the east and cast a spell of sadness upon him and all near him should fall under his sadness. Lankìnya was angered by the sound of the storm coming over her Blue River. Soon, the elves in Cátern were plagued by an unkind sadness from Shafhalóa, and Lankìnya gathered the Men of the Dunsha along the Blue River at Thoris Port for battle. "Cátern will be mine, and at last I will have my bounty and I will test them with the fires of Croàta, the eternal death. Curses on the Fire of Life - dTreàcach - and the maiden Isàs."
        At Glih Alkgagk, King Exiv was unaware of the tragedy of the elves and of his own people in the Twelve Kingdoms of Men, who plotted to take the East. The Collective Thought broke off from Dunsha, and men rallied against the power of the elves. Queen Saa'skàuty remained hidden behind the wings of Argul and Lankìnya wielded the scepter of Paíf in her right hand. There was an absence of the gods and the immortals in Vaaluir, but the horse legion of Isàs Cristarís, maiden of the storm, came to the aid of the elves, even though the Collective Thought of King Exiv did not reach the elves in their time of need.

        Fire fell upon the East, and Shafhalóa was inflicted with the Plague of Tears. His strong countenance was turned and gloom filled his face. Tears escaped him and his mood of melancholy inflicted those around him.
        "Good, let them lose the bounty of their souls to me," Lankìnya plotted. "I will have their water for my own and I will store this with my riches in the Kue Mountains. Dust to gold, dust to silver, gold and silver to wealth but Water to Eternity! Sadness will proceed Goodfortune, and I will be forgiven of my debt! The end will come and the Holy Altar will be erected in time! My son will stand upon it at last!"
      Again the elves sang out.


"Aòmh còa go ceàrtain ní Fhoínn Mheàtha í Bheshíra! Aleáragh Ardònain còa saíbhain an síehan nhu!"


        Lankìnya heard their spell this time and she was filled with a great fear. Who is god, but King Exiv? Does he not dwell at Glih Alkgagk, the monolith of the King, where the Srías is centered? Who is god, which dwells in a Sacred Temple? Who is Immortal as the Yeímpara but Krav, the Quill Bearer? Shall he open the horizon, which is shut? Who is god, which silences all of Ardòna like sleep over nature? Is it not Ví? I fear this god unspeakable for he has no name! Lankìnya hid her face with her wingspan, but she held the scepter of Paíf up high. The strange incantation of the elves brought her fear of the unknown, and Croàta opened wide, as the elves sang.
        Soon, Blue light emanated from the crystals on the head of Paíf, and the lightning of Kuírbha charmed and electrified the scepter as a fiery wrath. Plasma light streaked down upon the scepter and gave it life. As the scepter was forged, the very fire of Kuírbha stirred upon Lankìnya and she was with child. Lankìnya uncovered her face, hidden by her wings. She was awed and filled with wonder at this miracle. "The Scribe of King Exiv approves of my war? At last, I will repay my debt! My son will be born at last, for the god of time has given me his seed."
        A whirlwind appeared in Vaaluir and Kuírbha appeared with a flaming arrival. He called down to her. "Your crystals have caught my fire. They have magnified my powers to give you a mighty son. Your son shall be called Iskàul , for he will ensure your debt is paid off."
        She looked up to the fiery, looking sky, and bowed before the god of time. Her debt was reckoned, and she was free. Soon, wraiths of lightning united amongst the darkened clouds of Vaaluir. The horse legion of Isàs had not come over her yet. "Let them come. Kuírbha has dispatched his wraiths to fight at my side." The fiery sky reminded her that the horse legion unleashed by Isàs Cristarís was about to befall her as a tide, but Lankìnya was free of her burdens and ready to fight for the possession of Vaaluir and the fall of Queen Saa'skàuty, her sister.
        Then, King Shafhalóa worried and feared the power of Lankìnya. His Plague of Tears consumed him, and the power of the elves could not heal him. Upon a bed of sickness, and near death, the King warned the elves in the East. [see Kue Heading for Shaf's Portent] "And when you endure the crucible of fire, do not lose hope. Fire burns and water heals. The banners of water will be risen high, but the fire will fight it and the power of the elves. Beware you remaining, for when you see the shadow and the fire of his cloak fall on you, make haste, flee from your dwelling, take cover under night and fly like the dragon, soaring high. Do not turn back for your tunic. Do not return for your sword, and leave your treasure behind, for if you do, you will be saved and rescued. Do not fret on what you will eat and where you will go. Flee swiftly before destruction falls on you. Pray hard and look high, you remaining, for your salvation comes on swift wings. They will cover you and protect you from the dark cloak of his fire."
        The elves gathered at Vall, the stronghold of the elves, and bowed to the sick King of Cátern. Their fate was yet to be determined. Lankìnya assumed great power from the lightning of the wraiths. Would the fire of Desikinya avail the elves in this hour? "Glory be great King! Do not lose hope, great King of the elves, for his Holy Altar will be erected in due time! Shekìnya will protect the Gleam of an Elevated Sunbeam."

^

*I have seen the bounty and the land of the river, which divides. Let us bind together oh elfkind and stand in this hour of trial. We open our eyes and our ears to the clouds and the dwelling of the queen. Great Queen! Send us a storm! Send us Isàs , maiden of the storm and protector of horses. Protect us great daughter of Desikìnya from the trickery of Lankìnya, the one who stores riches in the mountains. Muster a rivaling tempest and a turning tide with the majesty of your horses. Give us the tide of the horse legion.

The light has gone out!
Excerpts from "Book of the Morning"
Account of Àuguíl
Account of Sheàcìnha
Account of Cràumhòcallain
Account of Droíga
Account of Rhuín
Account of Mharabhàunt
Account of Eírach
The Lost Account of Lankìnya
Account of cGasandràcseán
Account of Bhiánuim
§ Thank you for not nicking my material §

Oakbrook 17-102
Eric R. Chatham
Webelf at Arden
Medina County, Ohio
Copyright © 2003