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 with absurdity.

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 stars.

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 throne.

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 shone.

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.

A dream...

Since nothing made sense nothing made sense nothing made sense that day when Sirion burned afar.

Nothing made sense.