T-I-G CVIII: Wolves of the Galadhrim (Game Thread)

[Coppermirror]

(a)

♪
Oh terror, doom, for Nimrodel hath a wolven snout and razor jaws!
Once beloved of our ruler, that fair elf-maid is no more.
We are betrayed by her; and thus our blood will soak the mallorn.
Farael first, and then I too will fail to reach the dawn.

Galadriel's dreams were true and certain;
Yet still we lost to foolish diversions,
And thus will pay a heavy price for sweet Lothlorien.
♪

(b)

♪
Let the Night hold no fears in Lothlorien;
May no wolves creep out from their loathsome dens.
Every leaf in this golden wood sings joy,
And no longer shall we doubt and seek out ploys.

Pitiful Farael, cursed and transformed,
His elven-form lost, can ne'er be reformed.
Though what has been done cannot be undone,
We may sing of the fallen here under the sun.
♪

[Nerwen]

(a).

Sorry, Cop.

[Loslote]

For what did I linger in this accursed place? For what did I languish in these putrid woods? For what did I tolerate living amongst warmongers and hawks, always seeking out new battles to fight? Nay, indeed, for who, Galadhrim, for who! I lingered only for Amroth, for my Love, my King! And you have slaughtered him you have cut down your King when all he sought was to protect you. All his hope lay only in wishing to guide his people safely through this evil, and instead, you fools have destroyed the only good thing you have ever had to boast of - and out of what? Fear? Greed? Anger? No! Only out of haste! He was condemned within seconds, a sudden betrayal none could have stayed once it was decided. Fie! Fie on all the Galadhrim! My rage shall know no bounds, my fury shall be endless, my wrath shall be remembered into the ages to come! The Galadhrim shall know the sting of my hate, shall feel my pain and shall know, for generations to come, the weight of the injustice they have done to their King and Protector.

Sing, Galadhrim, of the rage of Nimrodel, that brought countless ills upon the Golden Wood! For indeed, I will have my vengeance against the people of Lorien, I will exact my revenge upon you all! Every single Sindar elf shall perish at my hand, and every wolf as well, all cut down mercilessly for their crimes against their King and my Beloved! I have shot the fell wolf Aganzir where she stood, and watched the life fade from her eyes. The very wolf who bit me, turned me, gave me the power I needed, Shasta, dark demon wolf of the north, I saw him dead ere the sun set, saw him hanged with the slippery, foul rope of the Sindar weavers. I roasted the noble lady Galadriel, proud beyond her deserts, as she slept at night, thinking herself secure in the bed she built on the land of another’s people. I saw Kitanna dead, convinced the foolish elves of Lorien that she was to blame, until even Kitanna herself admitted defeat and surrendered her life to the halls of Mandos. I smothered Rikae in her own elven cloak, forced her spirit to flee from her using cloth of her own make, reeking of the Sindar pollution. And now shall fall, too, Farael and Coppermirror, their blood joining that of their fellow elves, a river of life-blood which shall cleanse this wood from the poison of the Sindar elves.

All have felt the sting of my vengance! All have born the weight of my pain! All of Lorien now knows the price that must be paid for slaughtering their own king, the only good thing these elves ever had to boast of, and have learned the folly of their ways! This lesson, indeed, they will not soon forget, and nor shall the Silvan elves, who will remember, always, that these interlopers who have dwelt so long by the seas they have become soaked and salted with its waters, and have taken into themselves its tumultuous crashing and violence, its war-fever and eternal tumult, this pestilence cannot and will not be born by our people, and will be wiped from Middle-Earth for all eternity to come!