Some Words from the Mor-galad
Stories > Authors > He that Walks Unseen's tales
A black bird passed by my window and dropped a golden envelope. The
envelope had some inscriptions written in a tongue that was hideous
and unreadable yet surprisingly understandable. The statement on
the envelope read this way:
"A message of old has been delivered by fate. Read it and pass it on for he who arose in might must be heard".
This is the text that I found written backwards on a strange vegetable linen within the envelope:
No one understands me. What am I? Only Eru knows. Why was I created? I
do not know. Why am I blamed for all that is wrong in Arda and
beyond? Is Eru perfect? Am I perfect? Am I his son or
his daughter or both? If Eru is perfect and I am his son or daughter,
then I too am perfect. If Eru is perfect and I am not, then, how could
I emerge from perfection?
I take him to be my father or mother. In order to make Eru proud I
created my own version of the Ethereal Music. This was taken as treason
and as a disruption of the universal symphony. Doesn't a parent
want the best for his children? Doesn't a parent want his or her
children to live a better life?
Eru should be proud of my creations. Eru should also know that I love
what has been created. If I did not love what was created long
ago, then I would not love myself and I would cease to exist because my
very individuality would be cancelled by self-hatred and denial. Sadly,
Eru doesn't realize I am but a victim of a creative experiment, a test
to bring matter into the void that I call Mor-Galad, the very place
where I live or die since I was expelled from the place where light and
darkness go in opposite directions.
The cry for help
Oh! I have so many names and I cannot answer your call. At least not yet. I am trapped and only you can save me, Ambar!