March of the Mumakling
See Chapter 1 here.
See Chapter 2 here.
See Chapter 3 here.
See Chapter 4 here.
See Chapter 5 here.
See Chapter 6 here.
Chapter 7. A Grey Mist Dissolved: Bingo Bolger-Baggins
[All the usual disclaimers apply. Some of the characters and places mentioned herein are based on those of J.R.R. Tolkien, though I hardly think he'd want them back when I'm finished with them, and as Bingo reminds me, he wasn't even wanted in the first place. Many images here are inspired by Jackson/Walsh/Boyen's film adaptation of LotR. This journal at times contains same-sex pairings, multiple-sex pairings, and whatever gender combinations suit the storyline, and slides between earnest romance and ironic raunch, ironic romance and earnest raunch, at the touch of a toggle switch. There's no money in this, so don't even think it. I bet every kid would like to get paid for playing dolls, but life's tough. Credit lavendertook, if you will, because the following text and pictures are nobody else's damn fault, but my own.]
I feel quite refreshed from our respite and the roseberries we found there. It seems Saffron does as well, if her pace is any measure of it. The air is much cooler here. As I mentioned before, the seasons in Eldamar are such that they vary from vale to vale.
The light from Galathilion pouring through Calacirya, the great cleft in the Pelori, and the gentle light of Celeborn from across the bay in Tol Eressea, together with the light above from Arien's vessel combine in such a way that their effects vary across the land.
From day to day, how their light combines changes. And then at dawn and dusk, the trees--how do I describe it--it's as though they send forth puffs of light, and wax and wane before they dim in deference to Tilion's ascent.
The way the light mingles today, and the way shadows fall there from may not recur in the exact same way for many years. There are Eldar who have mapped all the variables and keep calendars foretelling on what day a light pattern will recur.
There are Elven artists who have been working on sets of paintings for thousands of years, only working on a particular picture when the proper light conditions recur. Patience. From them, I've learned I know not the meaning of the word. And then, of cours . . . wait, something isn't right. *shudders* I feel it.
I know this feeling, but I haven't felt it for many years. And not on this side of the Sundering Sea. It's through those trees, a little to the west of our path.
A great ill will and, and pride beyond measure! *breathes deeply* I will not be frightened. Not here in this land.
There it is! Look at that towering house of a most exotic build! I feel like I did when we returned to the Shire. When we approached Bag End. It's as if . . .
. . . the grey mist settled here. Could that vengeful Istari be hiding there renewed in that house?
*takes a deep breath* Then what I said before must be said again!
GO AT ONCE AND NEVER RETURN!!!!
GO BY THE SPEEDIEST WAY!!!
Ride out on the oliphaunt you rode in on, deceiver!
*sighs* There. It's lessening, I feel it. Whatever it was, it's leaving now.
Yet I feel in my heart that whatever it has done will be hard to mend. It will take much time and work, even here.
I did not think I would find such a force of ill will in Eldamar, yet the tales of old tell of such things. There's a reason we recount them.
And now, wherever Saffron is leading me, it is beyond this place. And there are the towering peaks of the Pelori! Aren't they wonderful? Lead on, Saffron, lead on!
Click on any picture for enbiggenment.
To be continued . . .