It was raining, this day, a thin, teary rain, drapes and curtains of
silver, flapping in the wind. It was a windy day, that day, a frail breeze
blew, cool as maiden's fingers. This day, the sky muffled cries under its
heavy cloak of grey, and rain fell, washing the defiled streets, and
thousands of pinkish rivulets came flowing to the sea.
As soon as the bird-woman had fallen, mist came up from the sea, wrapped
itself around the city, deep and opaque shroud, and it became deaf and
blind. Flames grew silently, and stained the sky red.
Then died. The wind became grey and black, black as soot and grey as ashes.
They walked. Two children staggering blindly ; nay, two adults, with old
eyes, dead and empty eyes ; lost and haggard ; with faces pale and thin ;
distraught with pain ; and blood-stained hands.
Two brethren, alone in the mist, hand clutching hand as if to break one
another's, so as to never lose each other. Everything was wrong, so wrong,
once more the world had been turned upside down, and nothing really
mattered, because they were born in a world where pain did not exist, where
no one slew anyone, et yet they had blood on their hands, rivers of blood,
it was wrong, none of this should have ever happened, and yet it had,
nothing made sense nothing made sense nothing made sense
They walked, blind, hand in hand, looking at things that did not exist
since nothing made sense, so tired exhausted, bound and chained they should
not have sworn. They never knew how they had found themselves there, drunk
A child sat on the water, surrounded by foam, as a king of a yonder isle
amidst the seas ; a misty crown was on his brow, and his eyes were as
The youngest of the brethren knelt before the apparition, and sang for it,
with soft and deep voice, soft and moving, shifting, enthralling, deep as
the sea. It surrounded the fairy-child, who could not be real - but nothing
made sense nothing made sense ; and then, so as to capture the frail image,
he gave it a name, so as to tame it, and never to see it dissolved in the
thin air, this beautiful child with raven locks and stormy eyes. And he
named him after the heavenly blaze of its pupils, and the foam of his
The youngest of the brethren held out his hands, long, white hands, and
bloodied also - nothing made sense nothing made sense -, and the apparition
took them, stood up, and walked, clutching with all its strength those
long, white and crimson hands, a child made out of flesh and blood, who,
ere his feet left the waters, turned his head, glancing towards the curtain
of shining water.
The eldest of the brethren walked forth, feet in the water, and bounds of
foam to chain his ankles, unto the waterfall ; then walked through, pulling
apart the drapes of silver and adamant.
The cave was dark and damp ; large drops were scattered across its vault ;
each of them shone star-like upon the arch of inky stone.
And each of these sparkles was reflected upon the fairy-child, unreal in
his frail beauty, so alike his brother's, - as if those children were
endless reflections of each other, made to enthral criminals -, sitting in
the middle of the cave ; on his dark and shining hair ; on his skin, pale
like distant Isil ; on his grey eyes, where a star-like light already
The eldest of the brethren knelt, and their eyes met ; heavenly light was
kindled ; white fire blazed like a yonder star. Then, to capture the
apparition, and never to let it be lost in woods, skies or seas, to tame it
and never lose it, never see it dissolved in the thin air, he gave the
child, strange lord under stone and water, strange child, indefinable,
ineffable, elusive child, a name. And he named him after the star-like
blaze of his pupils, and heavenly vault of his shelter.
Then, the eldest of the brethren held out his hand, a long, white hand, and
bloodied also - nothing made sense nothing made sense - and the apparition
took it, stood up, and, clutching this long, white and crimson hand, let
itself be let out, in the light, a child made out of flesh and blood.
At last, two brothers met two brothers, and the eldest held the little ones
in their arms, and hugged them tight, with all their strength, since they
were all they had found for their endless losses ; and the children allowed
themselves to be captured, and pressed their identical faces and tender
hands against that warm flesh, still wet from their people's blood. Since
they had nothing, born orphans.
And then went into the mist, as one flies from a nightmare.
Since nothing made sense nothing made sense nothing made sense that day
when Sirion burned afar.
Nothing made sense.