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Tá Mishnach gorg da Achoáin: Oràm an gmeàc Lhaànceànhain

"Droígain gí hícgs go pleàfoín domh, tdroíga gí shíeannain go líerain òil, tdroíga gí bpangcain forechain thírach, í àsashain gmeórch an tdroígain gí cuíc. Meàrra plía an sín nen escàllain-nloígc dhòua an plían, í athlas, ní lhusain strelleàs droíggadh domhain caònn Phaíf go thrugh aàl. Meàr dòu, ghafhorch – dta, reànna òaira, í-narch ghuplían an aoinn odachain sí, Lhaànceànha cgí Fhaaluir. Marg go difànn mo bhí bergcòa odachain eóan, besra huíl. Hòul go muscail sín roíchais odair còa od lá fhínn odair ghababhnain uílair mhan? Hòul go muscail sín còa od lá mhedía à tdroígain uílair mhan? Hòul chóinn odair go dhuíf abháill ceàrth ní bpeòrra da gCroàtain ó ní loggeàs da Fhaaluir mhír? Ó hòul go dhuífain aàl ní nuór uámhair òugcain níc Phlíann mhír? Droígain gí mhuàdh cgínn go muàdain mhíor, tdroíga gí ruíann an fhairesh go àsashain. Í-narch uá, tdroíga gí hírach còa eàbhnoín shíenn, í go muscail sín an tdroígain gí còearta murnuíg à bhí." ~ cGassagùm sas Dhroíggain

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        Medía Lankìnya fled to the Kue Mountains after she heard the news that King Shafhalóa was gone. She worried and witnessed the bitter taste of judgement upon the river elves, the elves she had loved. Taking refuge in the Kue Mountains, Medía Lankìnya hid within to keep her pregnancy of Iskàul hidden and secret. She wanted to take pleasure in the riches she had acquired; however, she was dismayed to learn that her riches were gone.
        Someone has found my treasure, she thought with intrigue and wonder. I am alone now. I have nothing now, and I have wrongfully wielded the Blue Scepter. What will become of me now? For the first time, Medía Lankìnya felt the bitterness of her deceit, and yet, her remorse was not heard in this arden. "Perhaps, my answers lie beyond the Horizon," she hoped aloud.
        Medía Lankìnya spent the duration of her pregnancy in the Kue Mountains. She wanted her son to be innocent and pure, so she prayed and prayed for the salvation of her son, even though it could mean the end of hers. I have done much wrong in this arden, and though I cannot be forgiven by the gods here, I pray my son will find glory in this realm of turmoil.
        Hiding herself in a secret antechamber in the Kue Mountains, Medía Lankìnya remained hidden from society with the hospitality of the dwarfs in the Mountains. Her sadness was profound, and she felt the burden of her soul and the loss of her treasures. As each day passed, sadness weighed upon her even more. The dwarfs and the grandeur of the dwarven god, Khiim Kharios, magnificently constructed the antechamber she had called home, the place where she would seek solitude. She took comfort being alienated by her sister, the one she had hoped to trick at one time. My sadness is profound, Medía sighed. I will hide my face from the omnivivacious light of my sister.
        Wandering through the antechambers and viaducts of the Kue Mountains each day, Medía Lankìnya hoped that the dwarfs would give her back her treasures. "My riches. Have you found them?" She would ask the dwarfs.
        "We have not found any riches and we have not found the Blue Scepter," the dwarfs would reply each time.
        The underground inner city of the Kue Mountains was a large place and her riches could be anywhere. Each large hall and large corridor was constructed carefully by the ingenuity of the dwarfs.
        Meandering into an unexplored portion of the Kue Mountains one-day, Medía Lankìnya became lost in the underground city. Hours of colors! Where am I? She tried to conjure up a spell to find her location.
        Without warning, a bright light illuminated the long, dark corridor in front of her. "Lankìnya, where do you go?" The voice bellowed tenderly.
        "Who are you?" She worried and cringed. She attempted to fold her wings in front of her face to hide her ever-falling tears. "Are you here to harm me too?"
        "Drop your wings. I am not here to hurt you," the voice encouraged. "Sadness does indeed proceed Goodfortune." The voice was soothing and comforting, and the bright light brought peace to her distraught spirit.
        Lankìnya continued shedding tears. She felt the burden of her soul. "I am a ruin, and my colors are doomed." She remorsed with great sadness. "I have betrayed my sister and the Realm of Arden."
        "Tears of evil fall, tears of glory rise, tears of joy give hope and tears of pain provoke fear. The sea opens in two places, and there, tears fall in the blue water that was formed by the scepter. Two seas there are my dear, and one opening for you, Lankìnya of Vaaluir. What becomes of your destiny is entirely yours, beloved. Would you be forgiven of your debt with the birth of your son? Would you yet be forgiven by the bounty of your tears? Would your soul find comfort in the flames of Croàta or in the clouds of Vaaluir? Or, would your soul find content in the ever-winding path into the Horizon? Tears of lust covet another, tears of agony provoke death; however, tears of laughter are good medicine and tears of mercy give forgiveness."
        Medía Lankìnya fell prostrate to the bright light and she knew who was speaking to her. She wept aloud and her weeping was heard in the mountains. "I have created a grievous abomination in this arden," she confessed. "I have done all of these, but one. The Horizon is shut anywise," she faltered.
        "I know, my dear, and no one in this arden can give you what you want or desire," the voice admonished graciously. "You must leave this realm after the birth of your son. The choice is yours and you must choose wisely; the one opening in the sea is yours. Your son must remain here under the protection on the Gleam of an Elevated Sunbeam. All your tears have added up but there is another one who sheds tears for you." The voice consoled her with care.
        "I know what I must do," Lankìnya wept. The bounty of her soul was depleted and heavy with grievous burdens. The wrong she had bestowed upon Arden was too much for her now. She had divided the waters, the races, cursed the river elves, the heavens and the elemental point of fire. Her disloyalty would render the Realm of Arden in a constant state of turmoil for generations to come. The tower of decision has awakened.
        "It is come to pass as it must," the voice finished with clarity. "The tower of decision, Tír Ashleàng, is yet erected, but the new tower, Tír Gach, will come." The bright light embraced Lankìnya, and it is not known what became of her thereafter -- if she fell into Croàta or if she remained with the elves. Her son was born as promised, and the gentle tears that would be shed from Vaaluir would not forget her or her domain.


The bright light carried Lankìnya of Vaaluir off to a safe place, so she could have her son. When Iskàul was born in the blue waters of Lutta, the last remnant of Lankìnya was seen in the water god of Lutta. He would be great and the youngest god in the Realm of Arden. His goodness towards water would demonstrate his purity and innocence. Water should obey his command and warriors would be granted a safe place in the deep, blue sea of Lutta.

As for Lankìnya of Vaaluir, it is not known if she stayed with the elves or if she went to Croàta. The creation of the Blue River came to pass, and the bounty of the waters would test the purity of time in Arden. Her son, Iskàul, would bear the key to the doorway in the Blue River and the heart of Lutta. None should pass without his admittance.

        The dark corridor in the Kue Mountains grew silent and the bright shaft of light dimmed, revealing a small bag, filled with Gheàmho Geùmmí berries, a sweet, orange fruit from the Sùva Trees in the East. An eerie silence emerged, and soon, two mountain dwarfs wandered in the dark tunnel. "I heard shrieking, Tannin" one dwarf said.
        "Someone has trespassed into the secret chamber of Khiim Kharios," the other dwarf growled. He held up his torch, awaiting the source of the unspoken weeping. "Maybe it was a banshee. They haunt these caverns, y' know."
        "Look at this, Tannin." Dladda, the second dwarf, lowered his torch to the ground. Looking down, there was a bag of Gheàmho Geùmmí berries and a trail of them leading down the corridor. Dladda shouted with delight! He started picking up the berries and eating them. "Maybe it is a gift from Khiim Kharios."
        "You fool," Tannin raged. "Shut up, or you will provoke his wrath. You know we should not travel farther than this point. Idiot, you probably scared off the banshee with your hoot," he berated.
        Dladda picked up the bag of berries and continued following the trail of berries in the corridor. He tugged on the beard of Tannin. "C'mon, grunt. Let's go look."
        Following the trail of berries, the two dwarfs stopped at the grand entrance of the Secret Chamber of Khiim Kharios. The trail of berries stopped at two large stone doors. They were closed. The doors were at least twelve inches thick and nine feet high. There were engravings on the doors, inscribed with dwarfish runes. Around the runes, the edges of the doors were engraved with delicate artwork and murals.
        "What do you think it means?" Dladda wondered to Tannin.
        "It says 'Stay Out' fool. Can't you read?" Tannin growled, shaking his head.
        Reaching into the bag of berries, Dladda gobbled down a few more of the delicious berries. While eating his fill, there was a roaring sound, and a voice from within the vault spoke out in a rumble. Dladda bit his finger accidentally, hearing the roar. "Ouch! For dhellagais' sake.
        "Who are you? Why have you come here?" The voice queried.
        "Well, we found a trail," Dladda mentioned in a stutter. He was not afraid but intimidated.
        "Stifle the clammer, Dladda. I'll handle this." Tannin berated. "Listen here." Tannin barked. "This chamber is off limits. I'll have your hide for trespassing down here."
        A faint scoff was heard from within. Soon, the two massive doors of Khiim Kharios opened wide. Standing inside the chamber was a massive dragon. It was guarding the grandest of treasure vaults ever in this arden. The source of the roar and the voice was Parreàs-Ashaàr, the ancient dragon. "You mean, you'll have my hide?" He laughed. "This ought to be something," he laughed. He stood up on his hind legs, raising his long neck. He lowered his head and narrowed his eyes at the two dwarfs. "What do you have there in your hand, dwarf?"
        The two dwarfs quivered and stuttered. "Nothing of interest to a dragon."
        Parreàs-Ashaàr raised his head again and breathed smoky steam from his nostrils, intimidating the two dwarfs even more. "Do you boys like fire? I'm hungry. So, tell me or I'll eat you and take it anyway."
        The two dwarfs turned around to flee, but Parreàs Ashaàr swung his tail around the dwarfs blocking the entrance into the Treasure Vault. "You would not like dwarf meat, sir. We are too sour."
        The dragon laughed merrily, shaking his head. "Do you think I would give myself a bellyache eating the likes of you, if there be liking of dwarfs, that is. If you try my patience, then I will eat you, bellyache or not. I just want the berries in that bag. I smell them and they are my favorite kind."
        Tannin recoiled from his fright and slapped Dladda on the head. "Well, give him the berries then, grunt, or be dragon fodder."
        Dladda reached down to pick up the bag of berries he dropped. Picking them up, he hesitated and wondered. "Wait a minute. I am not as blind as I am dumb, dragon. How in Arden did you get in this place when the doors were locked?"
        Parreàs-Ashaàr laughed. "Toss me a berry from the bag, dwarf."
        Dladda did just that. He reached in the bag and withdrew a ripe, orange berry. "Here," he said and threw it.
        The dragon caught the berry in his mouth. "I'm magical, shorty. All dragons are made of magic." He paused a minute, swallowing the delicious fruit. "Why are you two here?" He lowered his head down towards the two dwarfs suspiciously.
        "Um, we are here, ayuh, because we heard a woman shrieking." They admitted, looking around innocently. "That's it."
        "Ah. Yes. You heard it as well, then," the dragon replied.
        "Who was crying? We suspected it was a nasty banshee, wailing by one of the chambers again." Tannin wondered.
        Parreàs-Ashaàr raised his head again. "Toss me another delicious berry."
        Dladda did.
        "You dwarfs brought the banshees here yourself with your mischief. Your yearning for wealth in these mountains have grieved the both-spíróidain, the mountain spirits, but that is not what you heard. No, dhelleùggain. What you heard was the sound of tears falling."
        Both dwarfs looked bewildered and shrugged their shoulders. What does it mean? They wondered. Since when do Tears make sounds?
        The dragon shook his head with invariability. He sighed, for the dwarfs were not an educated race. "The woman you heard weeping was the woman who raised the tower of decision in this arden."
        The dwarfs flinched and shook with a certain fear. For they knew what the tower of decision was. They were dwarfs, who built wondrous things in this arden. "What has become of her?" The dwarfs asked.
        Pointing a clawed finger at the bag of berries, Parreàs-Ashaàr signaled to Dladda for another berry.
        "Oh, very well, here," Dladda grunted. He tossed another berry to the dragon.
        The dragon caught the berry and swallowed it. Then, the dragon reached around the vast treasure of gold, silver and gems, sifting meticulously through the treasure of the vault. Finally, the dragon grasped onto a small bag. "Here it is." He acclaimed. He held the bag out and opened it to the dwarfs. A blue light emanated faintly from within.
        "It is not a myth," Tannin admitted convincingly. "It is the Blue rod of Àuleàr after all." His eyes lit up with greed.
        The dragon spoke in a patriarchal tone. "No. It is not a myth. She forged it with the essence of Kuírbha. It is evil!"
        "Seàm síc. What treachery has befallen this woman?" Dladda quarreled.
        "The rod is evil, but she herself is not. She was taken in by the shadowy Kuírbha, the scribe of King Exiv." The dragon breathed a burst of fire through his nostrils with anger. It shook up the dwarfs. "It is not known where she went from here. It is believed she may have left this realm to seek forgiveness or penance."
        The two dwarfs listened to the dragon and beheld the vastness of the treasure in the vault, but the contents of the bag filled them with the most greed. They were taken in by the craftsmanship of the scepter. "Can we have that rod?"
        The dragon bellowed in laughter. "Has the absence of the Srías clouded your minds? You should have had my hide by now. You have hid away too long in the deep places of this arden."
        A false innocence filled the faces of the two dwarfs. "We won't use it. We just want to keep it safe."
        "How many berries do you have left in your bag, dwarf?"
        Dladda opened the bag of berries and realized that there were no berries left to give Parreàs-Ashaàr. He showed the dragon.
        The dragon took notice to the empty sack, narrowed his eyes at the dwarfs and withdrew his head back in a posture to breathe fire down on the dwarfs. The dwarfs tried to escape, but they were trapped inside the vault with the dragon. The dwarfs knelt down and tucked their heads into their arms.
        Looking down at the ground, the dwarfs heard the sound of fire whooshing near them. They felt the flame burst tinge their hair and heat their armor. "We are doomed, Tannin." Dladda stammered.
        There was moment of silence and then the dragon spoke. "Pardon me," he sniffled.
        The dwarfs looked up slowly at the dragon, but they remained knelt down with their arms tucked around their heads. Was that a sneeze? They wondered. "You are welcome. Though, we are not pointy-eared elves, dear dragon, um, glory be to you?" ^

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