07-14-2017, 01:37 AM
He did not find peace in hiding behind papers where he could feign kingly duty to. He felt desperate to claw away the grief and pain, and he knew that if none can hear him at that time he can perhaps simply hide and play a song. It was rare to find it in himself to sing these days though he knew when overcome with grief he always sang the same tune.
Creeping out his study, he headed to his chambers and plucked his lyre from where it gathered dust as he carefully wiped it clean and plucked away at the strings, testing to see if it was tuned. His movements were automatic as he sought comfort deep into his mind.
He parted his lips and sang softly, voice filled with grief, "The elves have burdens the men don’t have
Bitter remembrance stains all jubilation with tears.
Shadow and terror abound in our long, lamentable history
Our children will cross the sea." The Elvenking took a trembling breath at the thought of any child of his fading or dying, he swallowed thickly, he did not understand why he sang the translated version of the song but he did. If anyone heard him, he did not know how to react.
"The great singing wood will fall into new silence
The sweetest summer does not seem beautiful.
Our days, having departed will go beyond eyes
That watched the young green trees." He recalled how much his sister hated the translated touch saying that the rhymes were wrong and how it had lost the deeper touch of the favoured in it. He agreed with her, so why did he sing it now. A tear slipped down his cheek without his knowledge as he continued to pluck away at the harp's strings.
"Remembrance of summer seems now friend and enemy
Farewell, farewell and farewell fall like blossoms from my lips.
Farewell and farewell from the dear gates of Firithdae.".Ending the song, he had not realised he had wept til he had placed a hand upon his cheek to discover it wet.
He let out a grief stricken cry before he fell to his knees, beating his fist upon the cold stone floor, asking why he still lived when his family had nearly gone from him and all he had felt was heartache and pain. He cursed his father but begged forgiveness for his failures as well. he pleaded for his family to give him release from the night terrors that plagued his dreams, showing their deaths repeatedly until he no longer can continue his façade of a calm ruler. He wept bitterly as he felt his years upon his shoulders, he was weary and he wished to bear no more pain yet it was a curse he had borne for too long an age that he had learned to accept it as his own normalcy.
Creeping out his study, he headed to his chambers and plucked his lyre from where it gathered dust as he carefully wiped it clean and plucked away at the strings, testing to see if it was tuned. His movements were automatic as he sought comfort deep into his mind.
He parted his lips and sang softly, voice filled with grief, "The elves have burdens the men don’t have
Bitter remembrance stains all jubilation with tears.
Shadow and terror abound in our long, lamentable history
Our children will cross the sea." The Elvenking took a trembling breath at the thought of any child of his fading or dying, he swallowed thickly, he did not understand why he sang the translated version of the song but he did. If anyone heard him, he did not know how to react.
"The great singing wood will fall into new silence
The sweetest summer does not seem beautiful.
Our days, having departed will go beyond eyes
That watched the young green trees." He recalled how much his sister hated the translated touch saying that the rhymes were wrong and how it had lost the deeper touch of the favoured in it. He agreed with her, so why did he sing it now. A tear slipped down his cheek without his knowledge as he continued to pluck away at the harp's strings.
"Remembrance of summer seems now friend and enemy
Farewell, farewell and farewell fall like blossoms from my lips.
Farewell and farewell from the dear gates of Firithdae.".Ending the song, he had not realised he had wept til he had placed a hand upon his cheek to discover it wet.
He let out a grief stricken cry before he fell to his knees, beating his fist upon the cold stone floor, asking why he still lived when his family had nearly gone from him and all he had felt was heartache and pain. He cursed his father but begged forgiveness for his failures as well. he pleaded for his family to give him release from the night terrors that plagued his dreams, showing their deaths repeatedly until he no longer can continue his façade of a calm ruler. He wept bitterly as he felt his years upon his shoulders, he was weary and he wished to bear no more pain yet it was a curse he had borne for too long an age that he had learned to accept it as his own normalcy.