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Interlude to Thus Cwæth
Ælfwine Wídlast (Thus Spake Ælfwine Wídlast),
the Lament of Ælfwine
April 5, 2011
(Mouse-over the Quenya Elvish for the English translation.)
Black hung the shadows upon the narrow stretch of sand beside the
culminating of the rocks and earth and elm-trees, whose lofty boughs
cast shades of their own upon the shelter of the rocky incline, where a
man lay; an expression of pain and endless weariness was upon his face,
and he was still as though he slept, but when a figure murky in the
dappling shadows came swiftly up he moved, and heaving a great sigh he
sat up, exposing his face to a sudden beam of moonlight.
The slender figure behind him uttered a short phrase
in a language beautiful and ancient, but obviously familiar to the man,
despite its immortal tones: “Ye man ta, muina Ælfwine? Man-ie, i
vorima naire–yesta in atta? A, ni milya I ara, i naikele tyel!
Yéva Vali lar?"
The man gave a half-grunt. “Naikele na tyel! Yéva ta, na? Nai ar lá! ar usenda, naire-ninya."
Naimi sat beside him and tenderly said, “Ni ista, i
hwinde in naikele, Ælfwine, muinaverno-ninya. Ni ista, ar ni
milya i tyel ta. ”
“Yéva ta, na,,”
repeated Ælfwine, and sighed again; then switched to the tongue
of Luthany: “But it shall not, I think. Why then may I not leave?”
“Meril sayeth, the Faring Forth to unite our races must be the only journey forth, or to fail forever.”
“Yea!” cried the man, “well I know she sayeth; and I
have too drunk limpë, joy and sorrow now; but I have a graying
head, Naimi, and it may lie bleached in the fires and lie within the
earth ere I, an old man, should see my shore.”
His wife looked at him with sorrow and with pity, but said nothing.
Ælfwine suddenly rose to his feet.
“Where, then, Heorrenda, for the time of parting? Like Tuor I leave, and
the sea calls.”