Elven Creation Story
A Summers-tale-Elven Creation Story (Disdennon S’aydee)
(Told by Elves all of Summer's Tale, in different ways. This told by the Bards of Elvendell)
Many eons ago, a simple but elegant golden egg floated upon the open sea. The egg floated freely; there was nothing there to get in its way. Ages came and passed; year followed year. There was no sun to shine down on the egg, and no moon to bathe it in silvery light. There was no sky, and no earth. Just the egg. And the egg floated this way for many thousands of years--countless thousands.
At some point though, the egg landed! There was a beach, and the egg bobbed up onto it. There were sands scattered far and wide as the blue-green seafoam lapped the egg up onto the shore. It sat there for a while, warming itself.
A great moment happened then: The egg cracked open, and out stepped the elven figure Westra, a regal elven Divinity in raiments of rich brown and gold. They carried an oaken staff entwined with tender roots of birch and willow, and they stepped forward with wise, timeless eyes to survey the land.
Westra strode confidently across the sands. They touched the land gently with their great staff as they went, and forests grew in their wake. Mountains worked their way up out of the land, and water took the lowlands as lakes and rivers. The divinity winked their eye with a little smile, and fickle stones and deserts wormed their way from the ground.
But Westra was not finished there. They walked calmly through their creation, but they found themself returning again and again to the forests. The forests were their favorite. They stood among the trees for many years and found them good to be with. They smiled then and reached out their staff to touch a tree. From this tree sprang the first elf. Westra was delighted, and they began to walk among the trees, touching them lightly, creating the Elven people.
Soon there were many Elves in the forest. They were the Dronn’estra, the First People, and they were full of delight at Westra’s creation. They celebrated Westra and held many feasts in their honor. The Dronn’estra played and hunted and sang their poetry in the forest for thousands of years, and they were very happy indeed.
But something was missing; there was a restlessness growing among them that they did not understand.
One day, a great elf clad in silver rose up from the Lake of the Elves, and he stood there looking over all that the Elves had made. Smiling, Gelthiniel the Silver walked ashore and beckoned the people to approach. He held forth a sack, and in it were boots. Hundreds and hundreds of boots!
Try them on my friends, Gelthiniel said smoothly. They will take you far. Thus will you find your true home in the world.
The People did as the hero said, and they wondered at the comfort and swift travel the boots gave them. They danced and played many moons in those boots, yet more and more their discontent grew. They were… restless.... And this restlessness got stronger and stronger.
Then one day Tenare arrived unannounced in the People’s village--Tenare of the traveler’s cloak, they of the deer’s antlers and eagle’s wings. Their look was grave. It is time, my people; time for you to make your Journey. Your restlessness has gone on long enough.
The People gathered around Tenare. The Divinity said, Put on your boots and follow me! Together we will travel. The People obeyed; they could hear a sense of importance and urgency in Tenare’s voice. They soon they found themselves running swiftly across the land in the boots Gelthiniel had given them, following Tenare.
Tenare took the Dronn’estra to the edge of the Great Sea and out and over the waters. The People found themselves running, running across the sea itself, running on top of the vast ocean. Together they ran for many days, smelling the salt of the sea and feeling the freshness of its winds.
Finally, they came to land; it was the shore of the New Place, the Shannon-Fahr. Tenare stood before them on a stony beach. They were exhilarated, for they had a sense of home. Their restlessness was gone; they were calm and attentive as Tenare spoke: The Journey is done, dear Elves. This new land is to be your home, forevermore. Go forth, respect the life of Shannon-Fahr and protect it from evil and destruction.
The Elves did as Tenare commanded, and they lived in harmony with the new land. They went forth to explore, to befriend the land, and to honor the trees. In time, they forgot their old home, but they still honor Tenare for guiding them on their great journey.
Many eons ago, a simple but elegant golden egg floated upon the open sea. The egg floated freely; there was nothing there to get in its way. Ages came and passed; year followed year. There was no sun to shine down on the egg, and no moon to bathe it in silvery light. There was no sky, and no earth. Just the egg. And the egg floated this way for many thousands of years--countless thousands.
At some point though, the egg landed! There was a beach, and the egg bobbed up onto it. There were sands scattered far and wide as the blue-green seafoam lapped the egg up onto the shore. It sat there for a while, warming itself.
A great moment happened then: The egg cracked open, and out stepped the elven figure Westra, a regal elven Divinity in raiments of rich brown and gold. They carried an oaken staff entwined with tender roots of birch and willow, and they stepped forward with wise, timeless eyes to survey the land.
Westra strode confidently across the sands. They touched the land gently with their great staff as they went, and forests grew in their wake. Mountains worked their way up out of the land, and water took the lowlands as lakes and rivers. The divinity winked their eye with a little smile, and fickle stones and deserts wormed their way from the ground.
But Westra was not finished there. They walked calmly through their creation, but they found themself returning again and again to the forests. The forests were their favorite. They stood among the trees for many years and found them good to be with. They smiled then and reached out their staff to touch a tree. From this tree sprang the first elf. Westra was delighted, and they began to walk among the trees, touching them lightly, creating the Elven people.
Soon there were many Elves in the forest. They were the Dronn’estra, the First People, and they were full of delight at Westra’s creation. They celebrated Westra and held many feasts in their honor. The Dronn’estra played and hunted and sang their poetry in the forest for thousands of years, and they were very happy indeed.
But something was missing; there was a restlessness growing among them that they did not understand.
One day, a great elf clad in silver rose up from the Lake of the Elves, and he stood there looking over all that the Elves had made. Smiling, Gelthiniel the Silver walked ashore and beckoned the people to approach. He held forth a sack, and in it were boots. Hundreds and hundreds of boots!
Try them on my friends, Gelthiniel said smoothly. They will take you far. Thus will you find your true home in the world.
The People did as the hero said, and they wondered at the comfort and swift travel the boots gave them. They danced and played many moons in those boots, yet more and more their discontent grew. They were… restless.... And this restlessness got stronger and stronger.
Then one day Tenare arrived unannounced in the People’s village--Tenare of the traveler’s cloak, they of the deer’s antlers and eagle’s wings. Their look was grave. It is time, my people; time for you to make your Journey. Your restlessness has gone on long enough.
The People gathered around Tenare. The Divinity said, Put on your boots and follow me! Together we will travel. The People obeyed; they could hear a sense of importance and urgency in Tenare’s voice. They soon they found themselves running swiftly across the land in the boots Gelthiniel had given them, following Tenare.
Tenare took the Dronn’estra to the edge of the Great Sea and out and over the waters. The People found themselves running, running across the sea itself, running on top of the vast ocean. Together they ran for many days, smelling the salt of the sea and feeling the freshness of its winds.
Finally, they came to land; it was the shore of the New Place, the Shannon-Fahr. Tenare stood before them on a stony beach. They were exhilarated, for they had a sense of home. Their restlessness was gone; they were calm and attentive as Tenare spoke: The Journey is done, dear Elves. This new land is to be your home, forevermore. Go forth, respect the life of Shannon-Fahr and protect it from evil and destruction.
The Elves did as Tenare commanded, and they lived in harmony with the new land. They went forth to explore, to befriend the land, and to honor the trees. In time, they forgot their old home, but they still honor Tenare for guiding them on their great journey.
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