Ruivo of Imladris
Apr 23, 2018 16:49:13 GMT -5
Post by RUIVO on Apr 23, 2018 16:49:13 GMT -5
.The Facade.
Character Name: Ruivo
Father-name: Ruivo (Quenyan for Wildfire)
Mother-name: Famaráto (Telerin for Son of the craft)
Age: 7896 Sun Years
Date of Birth: 1400 Year of the Trees
Race: Noldor/Teleri Elf
Residence: Currently Imladris, though came into the world at Alqualondë, and spent his formative years raised in Tirion, then later Formenos. Residing many places in between; his paths in Middle Earth have taken him from Hilthlum, to Aglond, to Nargothrond, to Tasarinan, to Sirion, to Lindon, to Evendim, to Eregion, and a short time in Lorien, and eventually the stronghold in the North.
Profession: Smith of Imladris / Warrior
Appearance: He has flame-red hair which he was named for, and wears cropped for he has no vanity within him, and no time to waste in braiding and tending as some other elves might. He is tall and lithe, being born of the Noldor in Valinor he grew to 7'2" in stature; with a rounded face, an eye of ice blue, and freckles which dot his far skin.
His face bears many scars which he does nothing to hide. Most prominent is his right eye; milky white, which was pierced by a Telerin arrow during the Kinslaying at Alqualondë. The rest of the scars upon his face were gained over years, given to him Dagor-nuin-Giliath; the Dagor Aglareb, and Dagor Bragollach. Of particular pain to him yet is the scar which crosses his face, for it was given unexpected by the cursed blade of a barrow-wight. Ever seeking penance for his earlier misdeeds in life, Ruivo has refused what elvish medicine might alleviate his pain even as he resides in the halls of Lord Elrond, who could be called the greatest healer in the land.
As a result of the many lands he has dwelled therein, Ruivo speaks and understands Quenyan, Telerin, and most commonly used in these days in the northern realms, Sindarin and Westron.
Personality:
Ruivo is guilt ridden. Letting each wound; each piece of himself be chipped away through relentless wars and battles. These wounds he finds the only solace in his life; that he too should bear visible marring for the early deeds he has committed. His guilt drives him to use his wisdom and sword-skill to defend the elvenrealms and their inhabitants in steadfast loyalty, rather than let himself perish as he might wish, he will use whatever strength he has to defend innocent against Morgoth's corruption and atrocities; particularly Sauron who still dwells and strengthens in Arda to this day.
He has a temper, which burns as hot as his hair though he keeps it hidden, letting it simmer beneath the surface and remaining cool-faced when the flint is struck. Rarely does Ruivo allow this temper to flourish outwardly in these days. He never raise's his voice, and speaks softly always; save in battle cry against his enemies, or defense of whatever person or place he is currently set on protecting.
Ruivo is shrewd in his judgment of others, able to understand and judge a situation quickly and to uses this understanding to his own advantage. It is merely this which has allowed him survive so many years. Though a gift he has always held, he ignored it in his early years and as a result made decisions which would would haunt him always.
Though he is elfkind, and Telerin blood, he has no love for singing, and no song has parted his lips since the day Telperion and Laurelin were destroyed. Music reminds him of his kin and brings him grief. He has no time for formal grieving though, nor lonliness, and every time he feels a twinge of it he will find himself something better to do.
Though Ruivo is aware of the fact that he has (or had) kin still dwelling in Beleriand and Arda, he has never sought them out, though one of the lineage of Tirion has become clear to him. Though he has never spoken of it to her, he knows he has a distant cousin in a certain firey-haired young elf-maid, who spent some years back and forth between the realms of Imladris and Mirkwood, and he has kept a watchful eye upon her for years.
Of what has become of his Telerin family, Ruivo has no heart to hope.
.The Blood.
Parents:
Paternal Grandfather: Molindo (Quenyan for Laborer)
Paternal Grandmother: Culdië (Quenyan for Flame Colored One)
Maternal Grandfather: Marillináto (Telerin for Crystal Hearted}
Maternal Grandmother: Spanaríel (Telerin for Cloud Wreathed)
Uncle: Gladaráto (Telerin for One Who Laughs)
Father: Ñaltanáro- Noldor of Tiron (Quenyan for Fire Radiance)
Mother: Fallinel- Falmari of Alqualondë (Telerin for Foam Singer) Married name: Marillë (Quenyan for Pearl)
Siblings:
Sister: Ilsë (Quenyan for Silver One)
History:
Years of the Trees
Early life in Alqualondë, Tirion, Formenos
It was in the days under stars in which the smith of Tirion, Ñaltanáro, met Marillë, a pearl diver on the shores of the sea, and speaking not the same language at first, by the time they learned to converse truly they were already bonded. Soon wed, giving forth one son, and one daughter. Ruivo of flame red hair, and Ilsë of silver.
The elflings were born and raised upon both languages, Quenya, and Telerin. In their youth they swam in the seas, diving for pearls with their Emme. They ran upon the docks where the Swanships were being constructed by masterful hands; and one of the most skilled craftsman was his grandfather himself; Marillináto the shipwright.
It was when Ruivo was one hundred years old, having want to learn the trade of his forebears, the great smiths of Tirion, Ñaltanáro relocated his family to the city of his youth, and Ruivo felt at home. Many years he would apprentice beneath some of the greatest craftsmen, though his skill was never one to reach their when it came to gem-smithing, he grew well in his work with weaponry.
A Noldor in his heart, like his father, Tirion was where he wished to stay, and as he came of age and older, his mother and sister yet longed to return back to the shores of the sea at Alqualondë, and it was then his father returned, leaving Ruivo alone in Tirion with the rest of his kin.
Ruivo saw in Tirion the completion of the Silmarils. He saw the glimmer of the trees in those beautiful gems, and he along with many of his kin followed Fëanor into his exile in Formenos when the time came. They dwelled there for fifty years, and it was then that Melkor followed, slew Finwë, and captured the Silmarils before fleeing to Middle Earth, while Ungoliant destroyed the two trees of the Valar.
The First Kinslaying
The Sons of Fëanor rose up, for they would not lose their Silmarils, and Ruivo among their forces left Formemos for Alqualondë. Strong was Ruivo's devotion, and so unbelieving that his own kin would not entreat his people to the use of the Swanships to chase after Melkor, who was now named Morgoth, Ruivo took part in the act that would haunt his footsteps for the rest of his days. The first Kinslaying; it was in anger and jealously he struck, and his heart was seized by the malice that Morgoth had manipulated the Noldorin with; his anger at the Valar for not intervening, and the gentle tug of greed that the sight of the gems had placed on him.
He was well armed with a sword of his own make, and his feet ran upon the docks of Alqualondë as they had in his youth; though this time his footsteps were printed in red.
It was not until his sword had pierced through the back of one of the Telerin elves, and the elf fell before him revealing his face; that Ruivo began to realize what he had done, for it was the face of his grandfather, Marillináto, lifeless before him. Ruivo's anger washed away to grief as he saw his mother rush forward off the ship she had been boarding, calling him by his Telerin name. His sister following. He had no time to answer for they were both cut down on the spot before his eyes. In shock. Famaráto. It was the last he heard his name.
Ruiovo stood as if in a dream; the bloodshed around him, and the voices turned and screams turned to din in his ears. His last sight of his remaining family was that of his grandmother and an elf who could have only been his mother's brother whom he had not seen for many years, standing upon the stern of the small ship which was already sailing away into the distance.
It was then that he heard his Noldorin name. Ruivo. A voice he recognized. Ñaltanáro, his Father. He turned to face him and saw him standing upon the city wall; defending wife's kin, and pain struck. Ruivo was pierced in the eye by his father's arrow, and staggering fell. Ñaltanáro had not the heart to finish the deed of killing his own son, and Ruivo was swept up some time later by one of his Noldorin kinsman and dragged upon the Swanship which would take him east. When he awoke again they were reaching the western shores of Beleriand, and his wound was mostly healed, but he had no more vision in his right eye.
Arda Under Stars
Fëanor and the Noldor landed on the shores of Drengist, and Ruivo, wounded as he was, was led from the ships. He recalls looking back to see the flames piled high; his heart aching for the loss of his family, and for what was left of his Grandfather's work to be burned at Losgar. He learned of the death of Fëanor's youngest son, Amras, as he burned in his sleep upon the ship, and was grieved for yet another loss of innocent life.
Having nowhere else to turn, Ruivo continued to follow Fëanor and his sons into Hithlum to camp on the northern shores of Lake Mithrim, and this was where Morgoth descended upon them with his forces to fight the Battle Under Stars, Dagor-nuin-Giliath. Though the orcs outnumbered them by multitudes, the Noldor had yet the Light of Valinor within them, giving them great strength to defeat the enemy.
Suffering yet from his wound, Ruivo still had to fight for his life through pain, and traveled with Celegorm's forces until they reached Eithel Sirion overlooking the great grassy plain of Ard-galen, and they surrounded the orcs upon the fen and slaying all but the few who manged to escape. Ruivo here had been cut down again for his blind side left him at disadvantage to the enemy, and as the gash in his side was healing he waited at Eithel Sirion while a smaller host followed the escaped orcs all the way to the gates of Angband. Fëanor perished, and Ruivo looked out over the grassy plain as the moon first rose in the sky, fairer than anything Ruivo had seen since the Silmarils had been stolen from Formenos.
The First Age
The Fortress of Aglon
The Second Age
Lake Evendim
Ost-in-Edhil
The War of the Elves and Sauron
The End of the Second Age
The Third Age
After the disaster upon the Gladden Fields, Ruivo was requested, and set himself to a work of which he deemed too fair for his own hands to fashion. The craft and the forge ever called him; as it had called his father long years ago in Tirion. The Elendilmir of old had come up lost at the death of Isildur, and skilled in the work of mithril, and having seen the crafting of the original Star of the North, Ruivo crafted a copy of the white gem, with a mithril fitting for Valandil, the son of Isildur, which would be passed by long lines through
In the year 109 of the Third Age, Celebrian of the silver hair once again came to Imladris to wed Lord Elrond. With her came the treasure of Sirion whom he had long missed. It was at the wedding feast of the Lord and Lady, which Ruivo would offer Mithiel his gift again; what had once been her betrothal ring, melted to a different form. He told her not what it had been once, though seeing her accept it from him, and wear it at her throat only urged Ruivo onward in his silent devotion.
Many days would they spend together then while the Children of Elrond grew and thrived in Imaldris. As he had enjoyed the childhood of Celebrian, Ruivo enjoyed watching the elflings of the elvenhome, among the many others who had been born in that time of peace, thrive and grow. He would offer what skill he could in sword training and even archery; and tell all three children of the glory days of Valinor, of the two trees, and Tirion, of the first rising of the moon and the sun in the sky; of the great grass sea of Ard-galen before it's destruction, of the caves of Nargothrond, and the birds of Melian, of the countless butterflies which would grace the glades of Tasarinan, and the ents which dwelled there long ages ago. He would speak to them of Evendim and their mother's childhood, and of Sirion where he had met their Grandmother Elwing. He would answer as many questions as he might, though always go quiet when came questions of the wars, of dark time, and dark people. Never would he speak upon the kinslayings, or the sons of Fëanor, and neither would he mention the shores of Alqualondë for none save Galadriel alone knew of his Telerin blood and his history there.
Arnor and Angmar
The Barrows and the Old Forest
The Lossmoth of Forachel
Of the Palantir
Celebrian's Fate
The Fortress of Aglon
Upon the defeat of Morgoth; for a short time, Ruivo, though bearing shame, followed Celegorm and Curufin to Himlad, the cold lands of Eastern Beleriand, where he used his skill to help build and fortify the pass of Aglon; which stood for four hundred years unbreeched by the orc of the north, until the Fell Year was upon them. Long would Ruivo stand upon the watchtower in those years; feeling the bitter north winds blow as they funneled through the narrow pass. Through hail, sleet, and blizzard this was when Ruivo began to go uncloaked in the elements; letting his body go numb for the sake of feeling less, and as penance for the deaths of his thousands of kinsman as they were made to cross over the Helcaraxë when the ships from the Swanhaven which he sailed upon were burned.
On a winter's night; Morgoth would break through the siege of Angband, and rivers of fire would destroy the Ard-galen. Glaurung appeared from Thangorodrim for the first time, and burned the Ard-galen, and it was renamed Anfauglith. The balrog and orc of the north were no match for the elves defenses, and Aglon could not be held. At this time Ruivo fled with Celegorm and Curifin and the remnants of their people to the south near Doriath; taking refuge in the caves of Nargothrond.
Of Nargothrond and his Banishment
Peace could only be in the combined kingdom of Celegorm and Finrod for ten years until once more the sons of Fëanor convinced the people of Nargothrond to side against Finrod. During this time Ruivo became reclusive in the halls, yet beginning again to work his craft as a smith. His depth perception had been taken from him with the loss of one eye; and so it was with much effort that his hands would take back his detailed craft, learning to look at things in a new way with a new light.
It was when Celegorm and Curufin would send Finrod away, and shortly take Luthien into captivity, that Ruivo had at last lost all tolerance for the sons of Fëanor. The kidnapping of the Princess of Doriath would drive him to such rage, that even knowing he alone could do nothing for her; he stormed the entry to the hall which she was held with his sword drawn, ready to fight to the death for Luthien's sake; though he was no match for four guards, and given the opportunity to back down or go against all four at once; he chose the fight. It was only for the service he had sworn and provided to the sons of Fëanor that Ruivo was not killed on the spot; and he was then banished from Nargothrond; left to tend to his own wounds and wander the wilderness.
For a time he thought of Gondolin; he though of Menegroth; though knowing both realms were hidden and that his face and deeds would keep him from entry, Ruivo wandered south. He took to the wilderness, following the River Narog until he came to the forest called Nan-tathren where the Narog met the Sirion, and here he dwelled for some years, nursing his wounds and feeling the guilt of the task he had not accomplished in Nargothrond. Nan-tathren, or Tasarinan, was inhabited by few, save the ents and some of the Laiquendi, and Ruivo spoke with them, wandered alone through the willows and flowered meadows, among the places where the butterflies had come into the world. He felt his own presence only marred the beauty of the willow meads.
Marred further it became; for evil began to trickle into the land, and for a time Ruivo would defend the forest glades against stray wargs, and orcs along with the green elves. Whispers passed through from the ents and huorons that a great battle of Unnumbered Tears had been fought upon Anfauglith; and Ruivo mourned for both the loss of life, and for the fact that he had not been among the soldiers; nor counted among the dead.
After the Nirnaeth, Tasarinan became overrun with Morgoth's forces, and Ruivo was forced to continue southward to the Mouths of the Sirion.
On a winter's night; Morgoth would break through the siege of Angband, and rivers of fire would destroy the Ard-galen. Glaurung appeared from Thangorodrim for the first time, and burned the Ard-galen, and it was renamed Anfauglith. The balrog and orc of the north were no match for the elves defenses, and Aglon could not be held. At this time Ruivo fled with Celegorm and Curifin and the remnants of their people to the south near Doriath; taking refuge in the caves of Nargothrond.
Of Nargothrond and his Banishment
Peace could only be in the combined kingdom of Celegorm and Finrod for ten years until once more the sons of Fëanor convinced the people of Nargothrond to side against Finrod. During this time Ruivo became reclusive in the halls, yet beginning again to work his craft as a smith. His depth perception had been taken from him with the loss of one eye; and so it was with much effort that his hands would take back his detailed craft, learning to look at things in a new way with a new light.
It was when Celegorm and Curufin would send Finrod away, and shortly take Luthien into captivity, that Ruivo had at last lost all tolerance for the sons of Fëanor. The kidnapping of the Princess of Doriath would drive him to such rage, that even knowing he alone could do nothing for her; he stormed the entry to the hall which she was held with his sword drawn, ready to fight to the death for Luthien's sake; though he was no match for four guards, and given the opportunity to back down or go against all four at once; he chose the fight. It was only for the service he had sworn and provided to the sons of Fëanor that Ruivo was not killed on the spot; and he was then banished from Nargothrond; left to tend to his own wounds and wander the wilderness.
The Willow Meads of Tasarinan
For a time he thought of Gondolin; he though of Menegroth; though knowing both realms were hidden and that his face and deeds would keep him from entry, Ruivo wandered south. He took to the wilderness, following the River Narog until he came to the forest called Nan-tathren where the Narog met the Sirion, and here he dwelled for some years, nursing his wounds and feeling the guilt of the task he had not accomplished in Nargothrond. Nan-tathren, or Tasarinan, was inhabited by few, save the ents and some of the Laiquendi, and Ruivo spoke with them, wandered alone through the willows and flowered meadows, among the places where the butterflies had come into the world. He felt his own presence only marred the beauty of the willow meads.
Marred further it became; for evil began to trickle into the land, and for a time Ruivo would defend the forest glades against stray wargs, and orcs along with the green elves. Whispers passed through from the ents and huorons that a great battle of Unnumbered Tears had been fought upon Anfauglith; and Ruivo mourned for both the loss of life, and for the fact that he had not been among the soldiers; nor counted among the dead.
After the Nirnaeth, Tasarinan became overrun with Morgoth's forces, and Ruivo was forced to continue southward to the Mouths of the Sirion.
The Havens of Sirion
Coming to the Havens of Sirion, Ruivo found himself once more thrown into the bustle and happenings of every day life. It had been long since he had lived among the Teleri, and each elf of silver hair which passed by him reminded him of the treachery he had left on the shores of Alqualondë. He was known there as Noldorin; nothing would have hidden it for his appearance and the strain of red hair which he carried in his blood, and never did he share with the people of Sirion of his history, nor of his Telerin blood.
His skilled hands began to once more make use of the metal and the forges. Círdan's fleet bore here and there the work of Ruivo, and he knew well the craft for the hours and years he had spent working alongside his Grandfather in his early days. He watched the gulls on the shore; and saw the pearl divers come forth; silver haired swimmers; reminders of his Mother and Sister whom he had seen left behind so long ago. He listened to the voice of the Telerin; their language familiar, though he never spoke words nor gave knowledge that he would understand.
Nargothrond fell first, in 495. Menegroth in 506, and Gondolin in 510. More and more would elves, and men, travel to Sirion to escape the darkness which was piling over Beleriand. Most of which was the strife of Morgoth, though the sons of Fëanor would again wage war for their Oath and it was in the night they had once again descended on elvenhome with sword and bloodshed during the second kinslaying. Of this, news arrived to Ruivo, and his blood boiled that such treachery would take place. He dropped all labor and then picked up his sword once more to cut through the wilderness with others from Sirion, and assist in what ways he could the refugees who made their way to Sirion from Menegroth. Families of the court who knew little by ways of self defense he would lead on safe paths; knowing few, but recognizing some who had traveled hither to Nargothrond in his short time dwelling there. It was the remnant of the birds of Melian who would guide them to those who had lost their way in the wilderness. Never had Ruivo heard the singing of the nightingales of Menegroth in fair times; yet even in the darkness their enchanted tunes were almost as words to guide them to those who would need their aide.
For thirty two years after the destruction of Menegroth, Ruivo would return to his labors upon the forges and the ships of Círdan; giving the best of his labors in hopes that he was somehow repaying the debt he owed the Teleri, though feeling it yet never enough. He grew, however, more comfortable in Sirion despite the struggles of his mind, than he had been in either Aglon or Nargothrond; for it was not under corrupted Feanorian rule.
The peaceful times could not last, for still bound by their oath, the Sons of Fëanor again came in seeking the Silmaril in Sirion; in the night they came with their knives; their torches, and all of the Havens were rattled from their beds. The havens had little defense for the great loss of lives that had occurred in the wars against Morgoth in recent years; and the Feanorians were vicious in their assault.
Once again would Ruivo rise with his sword, and kill those of his own race, this time fighting in defense of the Teleri and the refugees, and slaying those who came with the armies of Maedhros and Maglor. Rage was in his eye, and blood was on his hands when Ruivo set glance upon Celevondir; one he had come to know as a friend long ago in Formenos. One he had fought beside in Alqualondë; whom he had slain his own kin beside; and the very one who he had watched cut down his Mother and Sister upon the docks before the Swanships.
Celevondir had taken in hand a particular elleth who had come through the forests with her parents beside him those years ago after Menegroth fell. Ruivo knew her name, and knew her family, though he had never spoken much to she, nor others, in those days. Glinting was the knife as it sliced her throat; and it was with all the strength and speed he had within him that Ruivo called out to her and threw himself against her attacker. Ruivo swung his sword at the elf, though never knew what contact it had made before Celevondir fled from him.
Given the choice between running down Celevondir, or staying beside Mithiel; Ruivo did what act seemed most dire, and let the treacherous one escape; for his hands were needed to still the bleeding upon the elleth. He tore his clothes to bind her as the servants of the Feanorians worked their way beyond them, and her blood covered his hands as he carried her past the bodies of her fallen parents. Having nothing and nobody else to see to, Ruivo bore Mithiel with him to the harbor where the ships of Balar had been brought by Gil-galad, too late to the aide of the Havens. The few survivors of the kinslaying boarded the ships and departed for the Isle of Balar.
Precarious was the life of Mithiel when Ruivo placed her in the hands of one of the surviving healers on board. Ruivo's burden for her was heavier moment by moment; and he held her steady while the bindings he had made were undone, and the skilled hands of the healer set to work to stitch and save her life. Ruivo returned again and again in those days to watch her, never speaking, yet anxious to see that she was mending; that she was still able to draw air; to speak. With every sight of her; his guilt growing within that he had not moved more quickly; to throw the elf off before his knife had shorn her skin; and guilt that he had not taken the life of Celevondir in retribution for his deeds. One innocent life which had been spared did not make up for the number of innocents he had taken at Alqualonde.
As Mithiel healed, Ruivo distanced himself from the elleth more and more. Though, distance in physical form could not sway Ruivo's thoughts. When she was able to once again serve her Lord and Lady; and when Galadriel and Celeborn forsook the call west, and departed for the east, the thin red thread which bound Ruivo to Mithiel bid him take up his sword and follow to see to her continued safety ere the sinking of Beleriand.
His skilled hands began to once more make use of the metal and the forges. Círdan's fleet bore here and there the work of Ruivo, and he knew well the craft for the hours and years he had spent working alongside his Grandfather in his early days. He watched the gulls on the shore; and saw the pearl divers come forth; silver haired swimmers; reminders of his Mother and Sister whom he had seen left behind so long ago. He listened to the voice of the Telerin; their language familiar, though he never spoke words nor gave knowledge that he would understand.
Nargothrond fell first, in 495. Menegroth in 506, and Gondolin in 510. More and more would elves, and men, travel to Sirion to escape the darkness which was piling over Beleriand. Most of which was the strife of Morgoth, though the sons of Fëanor would again wage war for their Oath and it was in the night they had once again descended on elvenhome with sword and bloodshed during the second kinslaying. Of this, news arrived to Ruivo, and his blood boiled that such treachery would take place. He dropped all labor and then picked up his sword once more to cut through the wilderness with others from Sirion, and assist in what ways he could the refugees who made their way to Sirion from Menegroth. Families of the court who knew little by ways of self defense he would lead on safe paths; knowing few, but recognizing some who had traveled hither to Nargothrond in his short time dwelling there. It was the remnant of the birds of Melian who would guide them to those who had lost their way in the wilderness. Never had Ruivo heard the singing of the nightingales of Menegroth in fair times; yet even in the darkness their enchanted tunes were almost as words to guide them to those who would need their aide.
For thirty two years after the destruction of Menegroth, Ruivo would return to his labors upon the forges and the ships of Círdan; giving the best of his labors in hopes that he was somehow repaying the debt he owed the Teleri, though feeling it yet never enough. He grew, however, more comfortable in Sirion despite the struggles of his mind, than he had been in either Aglon or Nargothrond; for it was not under corrupted Feanorian rule.
The Third Kinslaying
The peaceful times could not last, for still bound by their oath, the Sons of Fëanor again came in seeking the Silmaril in Sirion; in the night they came with their knives; their torches, and all of the Havens were rattled from their beds. The havens had little defense for the great loss of lives that had occurred in the wars against Morgoth in recent years; and the Feanorians were vicious in their assault.
Once again would Ruivo rise with his sword, and kill those of his own race, this time fighting in defense of the Teleri and the refugees, and slaying those who came with the armies of Maedhros and Maglor. Rage was in his eye, and blood was on his hands when Ruivo set glance upon Celevondir; one he had come to know as a friend long ago in Formenos. One he had fought beside in Alqualondë; whom he had slain his own kin beside; and the very one who he had watched cut down his Mother and Sister upon the docks before the Swanships.
Celevondir had taken in hand a particular elleth who had come through the forests with her parents beside him those years ago after Menegroth fell. Ruivo knew her name, and knew her family, though he had never spoken much to she, nor others, in those days. Glinting was the knife as it sliced her throat; and it was with all the strength and speed he had within him that Ruivo called out to her and threw himself against her attacker. Ruivo swung his sword at the elf, though never knew what contact it had made before Celevondir fled from him.
Given the choice between running down Celevondir, or staying beside Mithiel; Ruivo did what act seemed most dire, and let the treacherous one escape; for his hands were needed to still the bleeding upon the elleth. He tore his clothes to bind her as the servants of the Feanorians worked their way beyond them, and her blood covered his hands as he carried her past the bodies of her fallen parents. Having nothing and nobody else to see to, Ruivo bore Mithiel with him to the harbor where the ships of Balar had been brought by Gil-galad, too late to the aide of the Havens. The few survivors of the kinslaying boarded the ships and departed for the Isle of Balar.
Precarious was the life of Mithiel when Ruivo placed her in the hands of one of the surviving healers on board. Ruivo's burden for her was heavier moment by moment; and he held her steady while the bindings he had made were undone, and the skilled hands of the healer set to work to stitch and save her life. Ruivo returned again and again in those days to watch her, never speaking, yet anxious to see that she was mending; that she was still able to draw air; to speak. With every sight of her; his guilt growing within that he had not moved more quickly; to throw the elf off before his knife had shorn her skin; and guilt that he had not taken the life of Celevondir in retribution for his deeds. One innocent life which had been spared did not make up for the number of innocents he had taken at Alqualonde.
As Mithiel healed, Ruivo distanced himself from the elleth more and more. Though, distance in physical form could not sway Ruivo's thoughts. When she was able to once again serve her Lord and Lady; and when Galadriel and Celeborn forsook the call west, and departed for the east, the thin red thread which bound Ruivo to Mithiel bid him take up his sword and follow to see to her continued safety ere the sinking of Beleriand.
The Second Age
Lake Evendim
It was then at the beginning of the second age, that the company came from the Isle of Balar to Lindon, and for a time wandered through Harlindon and beyond; looking for a place to settle after the tearing and sundering of their lands in Beleriand, for Middle-earth had set in Galadriel's heart, a yearning to see the wide unguarded lands and to rule there a realm at her own will. They came eventually to a place of which the Nandor elves called Lake Evendim; a fair country of clear running streams, grassy pastures, and the great long lake of which they took residence beside.
In this time the remnant of the Dwarves of Belegost passed through the land on their way to Khazad-dûm; and having better relations with the elves than the Dwarves of Nogrod, though still distrusted, they were commissioned to help build the elvish settlement; somewhat for want of payment, for much that the dwarves had treasured in Beleriand had been destroyed; and also for fear of reprisal from the elves who were a much stronger force than they at this point in time.
Ruivo was among the Noldor who had traveled now behind Lady Galadriel, for more than one reason alone, and though he trusted her in part for the deeds of her brother Finrod who had ruled in Nargothrond during his short years there, he also began to see her wisdom in other matters concerning the fate of the elves, and counted her guidance in that time as the wisest; and fairest, among the Noldor. Her hair was lit with gold as though it had caught in a mesh the radiance of the Laurelin, shining bright in Tirion before even the sun had risen, she too was of the Calaquendi, of those who had seen with their own eyes the lights of the trees, and she too bore the shame and knowledge of Alqualondë, as he. Though her own hands had spilled not the blood of her kin, she had joined with the sons of Fëanor in their journey to Arda for her own missives; and she ruled with a might that equaled that of Fëanor, though with a grace which far surpassed his.
Yet it was also Galadriel who had immense insight to the mind; and there were times when Ruivo found her looking upon him; speaking to him as if through her mind. It was not chastisement nor ill words which came to him through the lady, but good will; of which Ruivo knew he did not deserve.
Though his work as a metal smith increased during the relative peace that came with the early years of the second age; so did Ruivo's swordwork; and it was then, serving beneath Galadriel, which he found the strength in arms he had once born in the days under the lights of the trees increased by her mere presence.
Yet also; his guilt increased by the strength of her eyes, despite the quiet assurance she would attempt to give. The memories of Alqualondë would come to him upon his dreams often. The voice of his mother calling him by his Telerin name. Famaráto. And the voice of his sister cursing him. The sight of his most dreadful act as if from the eyes of Ilsë herself from the docks of the ship she had been meant to sail on. The vision of himself, then with his fair face streaked with blood and anger, and his long, red hair streaming in the sea breezes. The look of horror and grief his Turatta's face as the blade pierced through him from back to front; as he sought the eyes of his wife, and children, and granddaughter before he was thrown down into the pools of blood. The look of Ruivo's own face upon recognition. The sight of his father upon the city wall with his bow drawn; long hesitating with tears upon his face. The silver haired Celevondir with blood upon his sword, stepping overhead, and then nothing. Ruivo trained himself to sleep very little in those days; though even upon waking the vision would seek him.
Ruivo would take himself from the halls of the Lord and Lady; away from her long gazes, especially in winter; spending long hours, and sometimes days even on the ice of Evendim while the blizzards of the north would surround him the way they once had in Aglon. The waters stretched beyond as the grass-sea of Ard-galen once did under snow in winter; and in the summers he would journey further north through the hills of Evendim; and one year he disappeared entirely to the ice bay of Forochel, hoping to seek solace from his visions in the Northern Wastes; though finding that even the bitterest winds of winter could not wipe them from his mind, he returned again to Lady Galadriel's realm; to his work as a smith; and to keeping a distant, yet watchful eye on the one thing he had brought with him from his days in Sirion. Ruivo had found in his time away that a child had been brought forth to the Lord and Lady; Celebrian, of silver hair. She reminded him of his sister in days long ago, and Ruivo looked upon the elfling with such devotion; that she would never share the same fate as Ilsë.
For seven hundred years, Ruivo would dwell at Evendim with the Lady Galadriel; longer than any place he had yet remained and beginning to feel at home in the north once more; though much would soon change.
In this time the remnant of the Dwarves of Belegost passed through the land on their way to Khazad-dûm; and having better relations with the elves than the Dwarves of Nogrod, though still distrusted, they were commissioned to help build the elvish settlement; somewhat for want of payment, for much that the dwarves had treasured in Beleriand had been destroyed; and also for fear of reprisal from the elves who were a much stronger force than they at this point in time.
Ruivo was among the Noldor who had traveled now behind Lady Galadriel, for more than one reason alone, and though he trusted her in part for the deeds of her brother Finrod who had ruled in Nargothrond during his short years there, he also began to see her wisdom in other matters concerning the fate of the elves, and counted her guidance in that time as the wisest; and fairest, among the Noldor. Her hair was lit with gold as though it had caught in a mesh the radiance of the Laurelin, shining bright in Tirion before even the sun had risen, she too was of the Calaquendi, of those who had seen with their own eyes the lights of the trees, and she too bore the shame and knowledge of Alqualondë, as he. Though her own hands had spilled not the blood of her kin, she had joined with the sons of Fëanor in their journey to Arda for her own missives; and she ruled with a might that equaled that of Fëanor, though with a grace which far surpassed his.
Yet it was also Galadriel who had immense insight to the mind; and there were times when Ruivo found her looking upon him; speaking to him as if through her mind. It was not chastisement nor ill words which came to him through the lady, but good will; of which Ruivo knew he did not deserve.
Though his work as a metal smith increased during the relative peace that came with the early years of the second age; so did Ruivo's swordwork; and it was then, serving beneath Galadriel, which he found the strength in arms he had once born in the days under the lights of the trees increased by her mere presence.
Yet also; his guilt increased by the strength of her eyes, despite the quiet assurance she would attempt to give. The memories of Alqualondë would come to him upon his dreams often. The voice of his mother calling him by his Telerin name. Famaráto. And the voice of his sister cursing him. The sight of his most dreadful act as if from the eyes of Ilsë herself from the docks of the ship she had been meant to sail on. The vision of himself, then with his fair face streaked with blood and anger, and his long, red hair streaming in the sea breezes. The look of horror and grief his Turatta's face as the blade pierced through him from back to front; as he sought the eyes of his wife, and children, and granddaughter before he was thrown down into the pools of blood. The look of Ruivo's own face upon recognition. The sight of his father upon the city wall with his bow drawn; long hesitating with tears upon his face. The silver haired Celevondir with blood upon his sword, stepping overhead, and then nothing. Ruivo trained himself to sleep very little in those days; though even upon waking the vision would seek him.
Ruivo would take himself from the halls of the Lord and Lady; away from her long gazes, especially in winter; spending long hours, and sometimes days even on the ice of Evendim while the blizzards of the north would surround him the way they once had in Aglon. The waters stretched beyond as the grass-sea of Ard-galen once did under snow in winter; and in the summers he would journey further north through the hills of Evendim; and one year he disappeared entirely to the ice bay of Forochel, hoping to seek solace from his visions in the Northern Wastes; though finding that even the bitterest winds of winter could not wipe them from his mind, he returned again to Lady Galadriel's realm; to his work as a smith; and to keeping a distant, yet watchful eye on the one thing he had brought with him from his days in Sirion. Ruivo had found in his time away that a child had been brought forth to the Lord and Lady; Celebrian, of silver hair. She reminded him of his sister in days long ago, and Ruivo looked upon the elfling with such devotion; that she would never share the same fate as Ilsë.
For seven hundred years, Ruivo would dwell at Evendim with the Lady Galadriel; longer than any place he had yet remained and beginning to feel at home in the north once more; though much would soon change.
Ost-in-Edhil
In the time that followed, Galadriel and Celeborn, and many of the Noldor who resided with them would depart from Evendim, following Celebrimbor to Eregion, to Ost-in-Edhil which he had begun to settle beside the West Gate of Khazad-dum.
Ruivo was skilled enough in his work; having had training in the very forges of Tirion beneath the light of the trees, beside the workers of the Silmarils; that he joined the Gwaith-i-Mirdain, the smithing guild of Celebrimbor which thrived for the trade with the dwarves in the region. It had been many years since Ruivo had worked alongside Celebrimbor; since his short stay in Nargothrond had it been; and the son of Curufin had gained skill even in those days. The elves began to work in not only average metals and gold; but in mithril. And Ruivo learned here how to make the alloy called ithildin, or “star moon”, which was visible only by starlight and moonlight, helping to set the glorious metal within the gateways and doorways throughout Hollin.
These were the days in which Ruivo's art was perfected, and he took great joy in the work of his hands, as he had not done since his days in Tirion. Sometimes days could pass and Ruivo could forget those things that could happen ages and miles ago; pouring all his energy into his work; sharing secrets with the other crafters of Eregion; crafting things special by the works of his hands; gifts for Galadriel, Celebrian, and the treasure of Sirion who traveled with them. Ruivo would work his craft and lay his treasures out before Celebrimbor, letting the Master craftsman choose which pieces he thought were the most beautiful for the Lady Galadriel, but Ruivo would choose his own favorite pieces for Mithiel in those days, and lavish them upon her. Ruivo took pride in his work, and it was with the help of his hands that the realm of Eregion was thriving. For the first time since Formenos he would smile in gladness. One day Ruivo crafted a silver ring of pure mithril, and in his pocket he would carry it with hope; waiting until the time seemed right.
When the great craftsman Annatar arrived after having been sent away from Lindon by Gil-galad and Elrond; unease grew over Galadriel, though the members of the Gwaith-i-Mirdain were glad to learn what they could from their new mentor; and worked tirelessly night and day. Many of the smiths grew in trust for Annatar as the days went by, and though Ruivo worked alongside him; his lack of ease began to grow. Ruivo would grow in distrust for Annatar even as many of the Noldor grew in distrust for Galadriel, and it was soon he found himself in the place where his hands were empty of metal work; and his sword was in his grips. The time would come for the Lady Galdriel and her court to leave Eregion.
In this time the elves were welcomed to travel through the underground mines of Khazad-dum, a three days journey. It was greater than the caves of Nargothrond, though less beautiful save for the veins of mithri which would run through the deep walls and leave Ruivo in awe. The way was dark; lit by no enchantment as the elves would use for their own caverns; but by torch light; with many angular rooms and long passages; and a great bridge over a chasm.
They would come then to Lorien; and it was not long years before it was as Galadriel had feared and open war was upon them. Ruivo grieved at this time for the loss of his trade, for it was the second time in which he was among those deceived and manipulated. First it had been Morgoth in Formenos; and now his remnant, Sauron. Determined he would no longer be distracted by craft which had busied his mind to the point of distraction; Ruivo let go of the forge and his metal work, and lifted again his sword and quiver to the service of Lady Galadriel.
Ruivo was skilled enough in his work; having had training in the very forges of Tirion beneath the light of the trees, beside the workers of the Silmarils; that he joined the Gwaith-i-Mirdain, the smithing guild of Celebrimbor which thrived for the trade with the dwarves in the region. It had been many years since Ruivo had worked alongside Celebrimbor; since his short stay in Nargothrond had it been; and the son of Curufin had gained skill even in those days. The elves began to work in not only average metals and gold; but in mithril. And Ruivo learned here how to make the alloy called ithildin, or “star moon”, which was visible only by starlight and moonlight, helping to set the glorious metal within the gateways and doorways throughout Hollin.
These were the days in which Ruivo's art was perfected, and he took great joy in the work of his hands, as he had not done since his days in Tirion. Sometimes days could pass and Ruivo could forget those things that could happen ages and miles ago; pouring all his energy into his work; sharing secrets with the other crafters of Eregion; crafting things special by the works of his hands; gifts for Galadriel, Celebrian, and the treasure of Sirion who traveled with them. Ruivo would work his craft and lay his treasures out before Celebrimbor, letting the Master craftsman choose which pieces he thought were the most beautiful for the Lady Galadriel, but Ruivo would choose his own favorite pieces for Mithiel in those days, and lavish them upon her. Ruivo took pride in his work, and it was with the help of his hands that the realm of Eregion was thriving. For the first time since Formenos he would smile in gladness. One day Ruivo crafted a silver ring of pure mithril, and in his pocket he would carry it with hope; waiting until the time seemed right.
When the great craftsman Annatar arrived after having been sent away from Lindon by Gil-galad and Elrond; unease grew over Galadriel, though the members of the Gwaith-i-Mirdain were glad to learn what they could from their new mentor; and worked tirelessly night and day. Many of the smiths grew in trust for Annatar as the days went by, and though Ruivo worked alongside him; his lack of ease began to grow. Ruivo would grow in distrust for Annatar even as many of the Noldor grew in distrust for Galadriel, and it was soon he found himself in the place where his hands were empty of metal work; and his sword was in his grips. The time would come for the Lady Galdriel and her court to leave Eregion.
In this time the elves were welcomed to travel through the underground mines of Khazad-dum, a three days journey. It was greater than the caves of Nargothrond, though less beautiful save for the veins of mithri which would run through the deep walls and leave Ruivo in awe. The way was dark; lit by no enchantment as the elves would use for their own caverns; but by torch light; with many angular rooms and long passages; and a great bridge over a chasm.
They would come then to Lorien; and it was not long years before it was as Galadriel had feared and open war was upon them. Ruivo grieved at this time for the loss of his trade, for it was the second time in which he was among those deceived and manipulated. First it had been Morgoth in Formenos; and now his remnant, Sauron. Determined he would no longer be distracted by craft which had busied his mind to the point of distraction; Ruivo let go of the forge and his metal work, and lifted again his sword and quiver to the service of Lady Galadriel.
The War of the Elves and Sauron
The forces of Arda were amassed; men, elves, and dwarves came under the command of the High King of the Noldor to descend upon Eregion. Ruivo felt the call of war as in the days of the first age, and in 1639 he traveled with the host of Lorien to rush upon Ost-in-Edhil where he had once lived and learned. Sauron had too great a power, and the elvish armies were driven back to the stronghold of Imladris; Eregion and all of Eriador laid to waste. It was only by the help of the Numenoreans that finally Sauron's forces were vanquished after ten years of war. Ruivo stood firm at the end; weary, and more scarred and battle worn than before.
The End of the Second Age
The White Council gathered at Imladris in 1701, bringing along Galadriel and Celebrian with her. Afterwards; Ruivo took his leave of Imladris, having been too long away from the person who was home to him, and weary. He returned to Lothlorien. Here would Ruivo dwell for healing from his injuries sustained in war, and watching as Galadriel planted the seedlings of the Mallorn trees where Caras Galadhon would become her dwelling, which had been a gift to Galadriel from Numenor.
In Lothlorien, time seemed to pass differently; and there was in that enchanted wood the closest thing Ruivo could remember to his former home in Valinor ages past. One could walk lightly beneath the golden leaves of the trees and enter dreams while waking without realization. With dreams for Ruivo also came thick nightmares once more, and every week he dallied under the timeless trees, or passed in front of the eyes of Galadriel who could see into one's very soul, he was reminded yet that his deeds in Arda had not yet made up for his deeds in Aman.
Walking beneath the trees of Lorien, with it's girdle of protection about it, Ruivo felt impure; tainted, and what traces of joy he had in life before the war and the death of Celebrimbor were gone. Celebrian long grown, Mithiel would have hours to walk with him, and Ruivo would rarely speak to her, sharing little; though growing in longing; a longing even more grasping than that which had driven him to work his craft in Eregion and in Tirion. He feared to give himself away, and dared never to touch her in those days, nor did he craft and adorn her with jewels the way he had when he had worked among the crafting guild in Eregion. Merely he walked, in silence, until he could no more take the presence of her so near, which he did not deserve, nor would he ever deserve, and made his departure from the Golden Wood after only a year residing thus; bidding farewell to the Lord and Lady, who looked upon him knowingly.
When he reached Imladris to serve again in Elrond's halls, Ruivo took again to the forge; this time to work weaponry and armor, forgoing jewel craft, save for one piece. The mithril ring he had carried for years, he melted down and formed the piece carefully, mixed with gold; as if it held the lights of both Tirion and Arien. Cast into the shape of a heart and carved with intricacy, he attached this to to a collar and wrapped in silk, he sent his gift by the next messenger which would travel between the two elvenrealms. Ruivo waited, more impatient than he had been in the whole of his life for some word in return, and that he received when the messenger returned, the gift returned along with him, with word, “The Lady bids you give it to her in person.”
In Lothlorien, time seemed to pass differently; and there was in that enchanted wood the closest thing Ruivo could remember to his former home in Valinor ages past. One could walk lightly beneath the golden leaves of the trees and enter dreams while waking without realization. With dreams for Ruivo also came thick nightmares once more, and every week he dallied under the timeless trees, or passed in front of the eyes of Galadriel who could see into one's very soul, he was reminded yet that his deeds in Arda had not yet made up for his deeds in Aman.
Walking beneath the trees of Lorien, with it's girdle of protection about it, Ruivo felt impure; tainted, and what traces of joy he had in life before the war and the death of Celebrimbor were gone. Celebrian long grown, Mithiel would have hours to walk with him, and Ruivo would rarely speak to her, sharing little; though growing in longing; a longing even more grasping than that which had driven him to work his craft in Eregion and in Tirion. He feared to give himself away, and dared never to touch her in those days, nor did he craft and adorn her with jewels the way he had when he had worked among the crafting guild in Eregion. Merely he walked, in silence, until he could no more take the presence of her so near, which he did not deserve, nor would he ever deserve, and made his departure from the Golden Wood after only a year residing thus; bidding farewell to the Lord and Lady, who looked upon him knowingly.
When he reached Imladris to serve again in Elrond's halls, Ruivo took again to the forge; this time to work weaponry and armor, forgoing jewel craft, save for one piece. The mithril ring he had carried for years, he melted down and formed the piece carefully, mixed with gold; as if it held the lights of both Tirion and Arien. Cast into the shape of a heart and carved with intricacy, he attached this to to a collar and wrapped in silk, he sent his gift by the next messenger which would travel between the two elvenrealms. Ruivo waited, more impatient than he had been in the whole of his life for some word in return, and that he received when the messenger returned, the gift returned along with him, with word, “The Lady bids you give it to her in person.”
In the years that followed, Ruivo would remain in the Northern Lands of Imladris, where the great stronghold of the elves in Eriador had come to be. Off and on for 1200 years would he see the Lady of Lorien come through with her husband and family for discourse. Ruivo spent most of this time watching them from afar; so great was his temptation to speak with Mithiel, that he would bite his tongue upon her approach, looking to her; nodding to her; grasping the gift which he would carry with him in his pocket during her times in Imladris, yet never finding the moment or day to do what he willed. Time passed; as did the courtship of Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian, as did the darkening of the world once more.
In 3430 a summons went up by the High King Gil-galad and the forges of Imladris and all the realms of elves, men, and dwarves went up in great flames to craft weapons, armor, war machines. They would lead the assault this time, marching to the southlands to fight the Battle of Dagorlad; and the battle at the Black Gate. Here Gil-galad would fall. Elendil would fall. Oropher would fall, and Isildur would take the Ring of Power which had long been used to torment the world from Sauron.
In 3430 a summons went up by the High King Gil-galad and the forges of Imladris and all the realms of elves, men, and dwarves went up in great flames to craft weapons, armor, war machines. They would lead the assault this time, marching to the southlands to fight the Battle of Dagorlad; and the battle at the Black Gate. Here Gil-galad would fall. Elendil would fall. Oropher would fall, and Isildur would take the Ring of Power which had long been used to torment the world from Sauron.
The Third Age
After the disaster upon the Gladden Fields, Ruivo was requested, and set himself to a work of which he deemed too fair for his own hands to fashion. The craft and the forge ever called him; as it had called his father long years ago in Tirion. The Elendilmir of old had come up lost at the death of Isildur, and skilled in the work of mithril, and having seen the crafting of the original Star of the North, Ruivo crafted a copy of the white gem, with a mithril fitting for Valandil, the son of Isildur, which would be passed by long lines through
In the year 109 of the Third Age, Celebrian of the silver hair once again came to Imladris to wed Lord Elrond. With her came the treasure of Sirion whom he had long missed. It was at the wedding feast of the Lord and Lady, which Ruivo would offer Mithiel his gift again; what had once been her betrothal ring, melted to a different form. He told her not what it had been once, though seeing her accept it from him, and wear it at her throat only urged Ruivo onward in his silent devotion.
Many days would they spend together then while the Children of Elrond grew and thrived in Imaldris. As he had enjoyed the childhood of Celebrian, Ruivo enjoyed watching the elflings of the elvenhome, among the many others who had been born in that time of peace, thrive and grow. He would offer what skill he could in sword training and even archery; and tell all three children of the glory days of Valinor, of the two trees, and Tirion, of the first rising of the moon and the sun in the sky; of the great grass sea of Ard-galen before it's destruction, of the caves of Nargothrond, and the birds of Melian, of the countless butterflies which would grace the glades of Tasarinan, and the ents which dwelled there long ages ago. He would speak to them of Evendim and their mother's childhood, and of Sirion where he had met their Grandmother Elwing. He would answer as many questions as he might, though always go quiet when came questions of the wars, of dark time, and dark people. Never would he speak upon the kinslayings, or the sons of Fëanor, and neither would he mention the shores of Alqualondë for none save Galadriel alone knew of his Telerin blood and his history there.
Arnor and Angmar
In the year 1300 of the Third Age, Arnor was invaded by forces which had been hidden for a thousand years; brooding beneath Carn Dûm. The Witch King invaded the lands, and the tower of Amon Sul was destroyed, while the palantir was salvaged and moved to Fornost. Imladris became encroached upon for Rhudaur became then a fief of Angmar, and evil men dwelled there.
Ruivo fought beneath the banners of Lord Elrond against the Witch King, and it would be 100 years before Angmar would be defeated in 1409 T.A, when the Witch King was banished for the time being.
Ruivo fought beneath the banners of Lord Elrond against the Witch King, and it would be 100 years before Angmar would be defeated in 1409 T.A, when the Witch King was banished for the time being.
The Barrows and the Old Forest
As years passed by, the children of Elrond grown and prospering in their own ways, and war silenced for the time being, Ruivo grew further unquiet. There was still a blight upon the land from the days of Angmar, and it was all too near Imladris where his heart resided for Ruivo to have comfort. The Witch King had left his mark upon the barrow downs; reanimating many strange spirits within the doomed grave yard
It was on one early excursion to the barrow downs when Ruivo was taken unawares by more wights at once than he could manage; being dragged down deep into one of the mounds and trapped for what could only amount to weeks which seemed unending. In the faint distance a day came when he would hear a song rising. A strange voice; not elven, and as it drew nearer he risked to call back to it.
What happened next, Ruivo still does not completely understand, for a plump and stout person; not elf, man, dwarf, nor hobbit, would enter the mound and single handedly stomp and thrash until it was open to the day air, and Ruivo found himself outside on the dewy grass, exhausted and weak.
The one with the hat and boots would introduce himself to him as Iarwain Ben-adar, the oldest and fatherless, and take the weary Ruivo to the borders of the Old Forest, following the enchanted Withywindle until they came to his home where Goldberry the River Daughter would heal him of his wounds.
Famaráto. She knew him by name long unspoken, and she sang to him in his old Telerin tongue for days. Ruivo for a time could forget all his troubles; they passed as mist from his mind in his days there. Days became a week, and a week a month; and when Ruivo departed the Old Forest his heart felt lighter and a full season had passed.
Never again was Ruivo captured by the wights, for he learned their ways before long, and he would take himself there over years to work through the mounds of the fell spirits. Luring them from their crypts was taxing in mind and energy, and afterwards Ruivo would take himself to the home of Iarwain Ben-adar and Goldberry, and walk the paths of the Withywindle. There it was that song would come to him again; and only there. Ruivo could sing music in old Telerin, while never the nightmares would come in that realm. His dreams would bring him to the shores of Alqualonde in pleasant times.
On one day, singing in the depths of the Forest, Ruivo would settle down beside an ancient tree, which he knew as a huoron. He could feel the treachery in it's very roots as he neared, but singing a song of the Willow Meads of Tasarinan where he had dwelled among the ents and huorons ages ago, he was able to make the Willow settle; and from there on it seemed as if it would wait for his songs when they came year by year. Sometimes it was that Ruivo would dwell in this land for a week, a month, and even a year; never remembering when he had entered or when he had planned to leave, until Iarwain Ben-adar would tell him that the time had come, and send him on his way again.
It was on one early excursion to the barrow downs when Ruivo was taken unawares by more wights at once than he could manage; being dragged down deep into one of the mounds and trapped for what could only amount to weeks which seemed unending. In the faint distance a day came when he would hear a song rising. A strange voice; not elven, and as it drew nearer he risked to call back to it.
What happened next, Ruivo still does not completely understand, for a plump and stout person; not elf, man, dwarf, nor hobbit, would enter the mound and single handedly stomp and thrash until it was open to the day air, and Ruivo found himself outside on the dewy grass, exhausted and weak.
The one with the hat and boots would introduce himself to him as Iarwain Ben-adar, the oldest and fatherless, and take the weary Ruivo to the borders of the Old Forest, following the enchanted Withywindle until they came to his home where Goldberry the River Daughter would heal him of his wounds.
Famaráto. She knew him by name long unspoken, and she sang to him in his old Telerin tongue for days. Ruivo for a time could forget all his troubles; they passed as mist from his mind in his days there. Days became a week, and a week a month; and when Ruivo departed the Old Forest his heart felt lighter and a full season had passed.
Never again was Ruivo captured by the wights, for he learned their ways before long, and he would take himself there over years to work through the mounds of the fell spirits. Luring them from their crypts was taxing in mind and energy, and afterwards Ruivo would take himself to the home of Iarwain Ben-adar and Goldberry, and walk the paths of the Withywindle. There it was that song would come to him again; and only there. Ruivo could sing music in old Telerin, while never the nightmares would come in that realm. His dreams would bring him to the shores of Alqualonde in pleasant times.
On one day, singing in the depths of the Forest, Ruivo would settle down beside an ancient tree, which he knew as a huoron. He could feel the treachery in it's very roots as he neared, but singing a song of the Willow Meads of Tasarinan where he had dwelled among the ents and huorons ages ago, he was able to make the Willow settle; and from there on it seemed as if it would wait for his songs when they came year by year. Sometimes it was that Ruivo would dwell in this land for a week, a month, and even a year; never remembering when he had entered or when he had planned to leave, until Iarwain Ben-adar would tell him that the time had come, and send him on his way again.
The Lossmoth of Forachel
As years would pass Ruivo's restlessness would continue; further spurred on by the comments and glances which would be passed to him by the elf maid Mithiel. Love he had for her; greatest treasure in his heart, greater than every priceless gem forged in Tirion in the days of old, and any that ever would be. He could not bear to have her wed to one so foolish and undeserving as he, one who had committed such atrocity in life. He knew he would only bring his own doom and cursed life upon her, and it was more often year by year that he came near to telling her his thoughts. Whenever he would begin to grow close to Mithiel, he would catch himself, and depart Imladris for a time with an ache in his chest.
At times, Ruivo would leave the Haven entirely and seek north, to a place that reminded him of Aglon in winter; to a place that reminded him of the stories those in the company of Fingolfin and Galadriel would tell; of days crossing the bitter ice fangs, the grinding ice the Helcaraxe. It was a place Ruivo could once stand again in the bitter winds and let the cold take him to a place of forgetting, to numb what memories troubled him.
Here Ruivo would after a time come upon the Lossmoth; the men who lived in the region, and gaining trust he was able to speak to them in broken Westron; eventually learning their own language. He would go to them every few years; seeking the cold sea airs, but also their company; in some ways enjoying their innocence and lack of knowledge of the outside world.
Ruivo was considered wise among these people, and they would seek counsel with him; though often it was just hope of turned weather and star predictions they would seek; naught which Ruivo could offer for he was a smith and no magician. Some metal work he would try to teach them in time, a spark set within him for any who wished to learn the craft as he had, though it was difficult to find materials needed in that region, and difficult to light the fires hot enough for molding.
Entreating upon him with their chieftain Ruivo did gain sight of a familiarity; long thought lost. It was among the greatest treasures of the leader there; a ring forged of emerald, with serpents that met beneath a golden crown of flowers; one upholding, the other devouring. The Ring of the house of Finarfin. The badge made in Tirion and given years ago to Beren; now known as the Ring of Barahir. It was upon his return which Ruivo would tell the Dunedain of it's existence, and they would barter for the return of their heirloom.
At times, Ruivo would leave the Haven entirely and seek north, to a place that reminded him of Aglon in winter; to a place that reminded him of the stories those in the company of Fingolfin and Galadriel would tell; of days crossing the bitter ice fangs, the grinding ice the Helcaraxe. It was a place Ruivo could once stand again in the bitter winds and let the cold take him to a place of forgetting, to numb what memories troubled him.
Here Ruivo would after a time come upon the Lossmoth; the men who lived in the region, and gaining trust he was able to speak to them in broken Westron; eventually learning their own language. He would go to them every few years; seeking the cold sea airs, but also their company; in some ways enjoying their innocence and lack of knowledge of the outside world.
Ruivo was considered wise among these people, and they would seek counsel with him; though often it was just hope of turned weather and star predictions they would seek; naught which Ruivo could offer for he was a smith and no magician. Some metal work he would try to teach them in time, a spark set within him for any who wished to learn the craft as he had, though it was difficult to find materials needed in that region, and difficult to light the fires hot enough for molding.
Entreating upon him with their chieftain Ruivo did gain sight of a familiarity; long thought lost. It was among the greatest treasures of the leader there; a ring forged of emerald, with serpents that met beneath a golden crown of flowers; one upholding, the other devouring. The Ring of the house of Finarfin. The badge made in Tirion and given years ago to Beren; now known as the Ring of Barahir. It was upon his return which Ruivo would tell the Dunedain of it's existence, and they would barter for the return of their heirloom.
Of the Palantir
At other times would Ruivo join in amidst the wandering companies of Gildor Inglorian, traveling to the east Arda through the northern forests, to the Tower Hills where the where the last Arnor stone stood in Elostirion, the tallest and westernmost of the White Towers, built by Gil-galad. Long ago had the palantirs been formed in the forges of Tirion, and Ruivo would go on pilgramage with the others to look upon it.
This stone, was unlike the others of it's type, not connected to any of the other stones at this time, but would look westward across the Sundering Seas to Tol Eressëa; a far off glimpse of Valinor in the west, a land Ruivo had not seen for many ages. The city by the sea was white-shining with a great harbour with laplit quays, which reminded him of his days in Alqualondë. The sight of the harbour was still painful after many years; though in some ways it could bring short peace to mind; to see that not all was destroyed in the lands across the sea. Ruivo would wonder who it was he had known ages ago would be there. Whose life had gone on after the kinslaying? Who had their lives shattered. Often would Ruivo's nightmares come on these pilgrimages to the towers, though he knew he need never hope or wish to forget what had happened ages ago, and he deserved to re-live every moment; to see the terror he had wracked across the faces of his loved ones and hear their voices screaming.
This stone, was unlike the others of it's type, not connected to any of the other stones at this time, but would look westward across the Sundering Seas to Tol Eressëa; a far off glimpse of Valinor in the west, a land Ruivo had not seen for many ages. The city by the sea was white-shining with a great harbour with laplit quays, which reminded him of his days in Alqualondë. The sight of the harbour was still painful after many years; though in some ways it could bring short peace to mind; to see that not all was destroyed in the lands across the sea. Ruivo would wonder who it was he had known ages ago would be there. Whose life had gone on after the kinslaying? Who had their lives shattered. Often would Ruivo's nightmares come on these pilgrimages to the towers, though he knew he need never hope or wish to forget what had happened ages ago, and he deserved to re-live every moment; to see the terror he had wracked across the faces of his loved ones and hear their voices screaming.
Celebrian's Fate
Sometimes on his Western ventures would Ruivo depart the White Downs and make north, for Evendim, the land he had once called home upon the lake after the War of Wrath. There would his memories be fairer, and he could sit in solitude on the shore and think of the times when when the Lady Galadriel would bring her light to the shores, when Celebrian was but a babe; an elfling, laughing with her silver flowing hair, playing on the shores with Lady Galadriel, and wading in the waters and splashing with Mithiel.
Ruivo had been flushing barrows when Celebrian's passage over the mountains had gone amiss; losing her to the wilds. When Elladan and Elrohir found her; she was no longer the same for the tortures and poison she had been put through. When Celebrian had departed for Aman, Ruivo would spend ten years in the wilds, simply patrolling the mountain passes, slaying all foul beast he came upon; trying to make up for what he felt he could have prevented had he accompanied her on her venture to Lorien. Many times after would Ruivo accompany Arwen to Lorien himself; if it was not her brothers or Glorfindel alongside her to do so, who he would alone trust. The loss of Celebrian was heartbreaking to Ruivo, for though he knew she waited on distant shores for her family, he had served her mother and father; he had seen her grow from elfling, to raise her own elflings. She was not family, but it was the closest that Ruivo would see in his years to the way a family would grow and thrive despite the struggles and odds the world left them in.
As the days of the third age march onward, Ruivo keeps himself busy as ever; keeping his strength by the anvil and and hammer, and the sword. Traveling at least yearly if not more often the mounds of the barrow wights and beyond. Of keen interest has he in the encampments of the Dunedain nearby; and often does he gaze upon the shattered shards of Narsil in hopes that the day may come when his skill may be called on to re-forge the sword. One day he would hope to see the kingdom of Arnor restored; the strength of Imladris grow; the blight leftover from Morgoth completely vanquished, but for now, he has kept his eye on the young Dunedain, Estel, and sees promise in what he may achieve.
Ruivo sees little hope for his own future; though as part of the whole he will give himself to the last to see what he cares for protected. The children of Elrond, Estel, Imladris, the North, and of course the pearl of Sirion.
Ruivo had been flushing barrows when Celebrian's passage over the mountains had gone amiss; losing her to the wilds. When Elladan and Elrohir found her; she was no longer the same for the tortures and poison she had been put through. When Celebrian had departed for Aman, Ruivo would spend ten years in the wilds, simply patrolling the mountain passes, slaying all foul beast he came upon; trying to make up for what he felt he could have prevented had he accompanied her on her venture to Lorien. Many times after would Ruivo accompany Arwen to Lorien himself; if it was not her brothers or Glorfindel alongside her to do so, who he would alone trust. The loss of Celebrian was heartbreaking to Ruivo, for though he knew she waited on distant shores for her family, he had served her mother and father; he had seen her grow from elfling, to raise her own elflings. She was not family, but it was the closest that Ruivo would see in his years to the way a family would grow and thrive despite the struggles and odds the world left them in.
Imladris
As the days of the third age march onward, Ruivo keeps himself busy as ever; keeping his strength by the anvil and and hammer, and the sword. Traveling at least yearly if not more often the mounds of the barrow wights and beyond. Of keen interest has he in the encampments of the Dunedain nearby; and often does he gaze upon the shattered shards of Narsil in hopes that the day may come when his skill may be called on to re-forge the sword. One day he would hope to see the kingdom of Arnor restored; the strength of Imladris grow; the blight leftover from Morgoth completely vanquished, but for now, he has kept his eye on the young Dunedain, Estel, and sees promise in what he may achieve.
Ruivo sees little hope for his own future; though as part of the whole he will give himself to the last to see what he cares for protected. The children of Elrond, Estel, Imladris, the North, and of course the pearl of Sirion.