Write a Review

Silent Flower of Song: Book One: Setting the Chessboard

Decisions and Rescues

Chapter 2
Despite her thoughts, she was not alone. She was not forgotten by any means. The Valar knew all things, and they heard her, for her mute screams for help reached Nienna's ears and made them bleed with sorrow.
They raged among themselves at the torturing of a firstborn, one of their children. They watched and waited, while Nienna shed tears for her and the Valar debated what to do. Would they rescue her? Who was she?
They searched Arda for any trace of her kin and finally found them. She was of the Noldor, one of the elves of the elven kingdom of Gondolin. There was her heritage, but her family is long lost. She is truly alone- a single, orphaned waif that has drifted on the battering waves of the sea of time, clinging to nothing but the driftwood from a sunken boat whose name has disappeared under the waves, forgotten in time.
Elflings are rare now, in Arda, and are cherished jealously by the elves wherever they are to be found.
The Valar made their decision. The firstborn had become complacent as of late, distant and colder from the lack of young ones to care for and bond over together. This one, they decided, was to be the tie of the three remaining elven kingdoms. She would teach them to love again, to open up and see the music in life that they have forgotten over time; the once-clear notes faded and blurred in their ears amidst the cacophony of discordant chaos that has risen to the forefront of their thoughts.
And they would teach her to live again. The elves would help her to heal, both in body and mind. Her soul was unsullied because of the shield of light, and they would coax her to learn to release it again and become a beacon of light in the dark places.
The Valar murmured and nodded in agreement. Rarely did they directly interfere with the affairs of Middle Earth, but this was different. This was for the welfare of their children. Yes, with her coming the three kingdoms will be shaken as they never have before. Their little gift that would cause the flowers to bloom with her silent song.


She was listening, as was her custom, to the dark fire that was flickering in the torch on the wall in front of her torture table. When she was not in a healing trance to help her body to heal quicker from her injuries, she was staring emotionlessly at the wall in front of her and listening to the songs that only she could hear.
All elves can hear the songs, but her years of solitude have allowed her to be able to even more keenly than any other. Therefore, some of them are so faint, but she can hear them effortlessly, because she has embraced them as a part of herself. It is the only thing that defines her. It is her special uniqueness that separates her from the dark, mindless rabble of beings that live here.
The song of the torch has changed today. No longer does it sputter angrily of death and darkness. No, instead it quails. It wails of brightness, of light, of hope, of freedom, and of change. It hisses and sputters, dying down and quailing to moan about the light that it can only mimic, twisted from natural fire into a dark fire that cannot do anything but destroy.
She listens. She has never heard this before. The light inside her is flickering. It is rising and shining and dancing in hope and glee. Her eyes slowly are beginning to clear with the renewed activity in her inner light.
The orcs are wary. They cannot hear what she does, but they feel the difference in the air. The pending sign of change and doom for their darkness. They are afraid, but do not know what is happening. They scuttle about from fear of something that they do not know.
All of a sudden, there is light. It floods the caverns, blinding them in its intenseness. The orcs screech and shriek in confusion and pain, the light scorching them like acid and making them trample each other to get away from the light. A golden-armored figure swaggers through the caves, unafraid and laughing at the pitiful orcs that cower and tremble.
He has not come for them, however. He has come for his little one. He has come for their child. Tulkas finds his goal easily, reaching out and scooping her up. The table cracks at his touch and the bonds snap. The little elfling is asleep, the light within her soothing her and healing her in response to the bright light that has revived it.
She sleeps on, unconscious in her healing trance, and Tulkas makes his way out of the deeps of Angband, carrying her tiny form in his arms and bounding out into the light. He makes for the river Bruinen.
He sets her down by the river side and brushes a matted lock of hair off of her face. "Be safe, Eruanna." He whispered to her gently, "for you are the binding tie for the elves." He murmured, and then bounded away, back to his home of Valinor.
She stirs slightly in response to his whispers but remains asleep, until the new day dawns bright and clear over her small, thin form.
She is so dirty, covered with filth and grime made of damp dirt from deep within the earth and mixing with blood and spittle to form a thick mud that covers her. Blood has stained her hair and made it into a tangled, black mess. The rusty, metallic scent of blood clings to her. She is nothing but bones, barely covered with skin and even that is like transparent parchment.
Her eyes flutter as she opens them and blinks at the bright, almost blinding light that assaults her senses for the first time that she can remember. She opened her dry, cracked lips and winced at the feeling of her aches and bruises. A soundless sigh escapes her lips as she sits up wearily, ignoring the sharp, stabbing pains in her body with practiced, casual indifference.
She is confused, until memory rushes to the forefront of her mind. There was a light, and she fell asleep, and she was half-conscious as she was being carried- the little elleth suddenly remembered the words that had floated through her dreams.
"Be safe, Eruanna. For you are the binding tie for the elves." She frowned as she contemplated the possible meaning behind the words. Was Eruanna her name? Who had saved her?
Her mind crashed to an exhausted halt there, and she stumbled to her feet clumsily. Then she noticed the river beside her. It was clear and clean, bubbling and gurgling its way down the riverbed.
Her mouth opened slightly, amazed at the sounds that flooded her ears. The river was singing, it's voice laughing merrily like the sound of a happily gurgling baby. She listened to it for the first time, soothing her mind and causing tears to well in her eyes. It was so beautiful. She cried in her freedom, stumbling over to the river.
It's bubbling merriment invited her to drink and be happy, and she obliged happily. Flopping on her stomach despite the pain, she drank deeply from the stream, filling up her empty stomach. It is clean and pure, and for the first time she can remember her stomach is finally filled with liquid.
It does not completely sate the pinch of hunger, but she pays it no attention. She has been ignoring it for years. What difference does it make now? She is free. But she has no idea where to go. She cannot stay here, even her childish mind knows that.
Eruanna is not completely afraid, for she cannot suffer more than she has already. Staggering to her feet, for it is already noon, she stumbles forwards, feeling the water in her stomach slosh with the unexpected movement. Nausea consumes her throat, but thankfully the water stays, her body being unwilling to give up the precious liquid that it has stored.
Her body is slowly regaining a more rosy hue that it had been before, but she is still sickly, pale and emaciated. She drags her weary, battered body as far as she can until she collapses from the unusual amount of activity and strain on her weary limbs.
Tears streak down her cheeks helplessly, and her mouth opens in a wordless plea. Wracked with pain and aching, she lies on the ground, unable to move for the stiffness of her body. Scabs open and bleed slightly as she moved, earning another soundless shout of pain that tried to wrench it's way through her unresponsive vocal cords.
She fell into a healing coma, eyes closing in weariness and suffering, a pitiful way to rest after receiving one's freedom. But the Valar have not forgotten her yet. They have already put her in the way of help, and it will come soon.

Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.