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THE RAPE OF NAYLON

    One year, after her father’s passing, as she returned from homage to Lindol, Naylon was brutally beaten and raped by ruffians along the way. Upon recovering from being waylaid, Naylon shared with all those she met as she ventured back to Sinjar. But none aided in her recovery, though they looked upon her with pity. When word arrived at her brothers they were outraged at such treatment done against their most beloved younger sister. Each of them vowed revenge on their own or together upon Naylon’s behalf.
   The seven brothers set out for the Oasis near the city of Mithar, with Naylon their sister in search of those who violated her. Coming near to pools of the desert and seeing the Bedouins gathered outside their tents, Naylon whispered to Navon that these were the men.
   Seeing only one woman among the approaching group of men, the leader called out to them, “How much would you give for such a thing as this woman here?”
The brothers gave no answer as they drew closer. The leader then boldly shouted, “I would gladly surrender my bejeweled dagger. I had her once before and she would be well worth a second go, my friend.” The men had been drinking and were all agreeing with taking her by force.
   Though the seven brothers were outnumbered, as there were twenty-one Bedouins; they disguised their anger with laughter. Navon, the eldest brother countered with, “Let us play a drinking game, with the last man standing winning her as the grand prize instead!”
   To this, they all agreed with laughter and food. But unknown to the tent dwellers of the oasis, the youngest brother, Bellojon added a sleeping herb to all their strong drinks. As the laughter, food, and wine continued soon the Bedouins were fast asleep. When the last of them was down, the brothers made quick work of tying them up like boars over a spit for cooking. The following morning all twenty-one of the ruffians woke up cursing and screaming upon finding they were naked and tied up.
   The brothers remained silent as the captive men cooked beneath the desert heat. At the noon hour, Naylon rose from her slumber in the cool of one of the tents. Without a word to any of them, Naylon castrated each man, but watched him bleed out and die before she went to the next one. Her brothers stood beside her as she did this. When she came to the last man who raped her, he hoarsely whispered, “I am Rodoth, son of Baeroth and I swear that I alone loved you. I tried to save you from such wicked men as these I found myself among.”
   Without looking at her brothers and never taking her eyes from him she denounced his lies, “You were the first to thrust yourself inside me, encourage, and then praised the others for doing the same.” Naylon spat upon Rodoth and with great ease cut off his parts and shoved them into his screaming mouth. Along with her silent brothers, she watched the last of her violators perish by bleeding out. Afterward, Naylon said to her eldest brother, Navon, “Only God himself shall forgive them for I never shall.” Not for the men, but for the loss of their sister’s joy the brothers called the place “Sorrow”. Thereaf66ter it called The Oasis of Orid, (meaning the pools of sorrow). Leaving their homes behind all brothers all returned to Sinjar and each one, their wives and children took care of Naylon like she was a queen until she passed away fourteen years later.


The Tale of Felladros om`Kathos

7 The Tale of Felladros om`Kathos

   Felladros, the son of Adoromeir and Anathray a daughter from Kathos; was tall and fair skinned.  His voice was angelic, and hair a golden hue.  He was soft spoken, gentle; but firm and unmoving in his ways.  Felladros was the youngest son among four sisters: Cellabrin, Corabrin, Mellasdom and Feairdom the eldest. 
   Felladros lived in the southern port city of Kathos, the hometown of his mother.  At the age twenty-seven, he said, “I desire much to see the larger world father and to explore Eriduah’s realms and its peoples for myself.  The old tales are but rumors and memories of others and I burn to make my own among them.”
   “Seems you are bound to do as you desire; forgetting the concerns of your mother.  So, go in peace my son.  Only return when your joys are renewed with thoughts of home and your experiences plenty and worth the sharing, as you will always have worth among us even if you do not venture far from home.”  Adoromeir smiled at his son.
   Then his father added, “Only in your ways be ever mindful of Eru-Illuva that his grace may enlighten your heart.  Ours will be a void until you safely return unto your mother’s side.”  With such blessing and farewell to his sisters and lastly his mother’s loving embrace, Finaldros left his hometown to explore the larger world.


   Felladros had grown up hearing detailed stories of Mithar’s grandeur from his father, and of Lindol’s sinful nature with its many pagan temples, from his mother.  But Felladros wanted to see them for himself.  He would return home by that route he promised his heart, before seeing his family again.  Yet he headed for Sinjar to meet the exiled Witch Kimashe for himself.  He wanted to see the famed desert fountain of Uruk and the mythical talking stone faces of The Hidden Gorge, he wanted to meet the dwarves of Mount Ipstha and hear their solemn songs for himself.  Finaldros desired to know why things were the way they were and understand why people fell silent when such things were mentioned in conversation.  What had become of the Halflings and why did no one speak of the departed elves.  Felladros was filled with questions as he left the port city of his upbringing that clear summer day.

   Felladros rode Salom, one of his father’s horses.  For many years Adoromeir had lived in Mithar, but as the city grew he found breeding horses beyond the city wall most appealing.  On one trip to Kathos for trade, he had fallen in love with a merchant’s daughter and thereafter remained.
   After a few miles up the northern road to Mithar, Felladros turned and headed northeast.  To his right, the sparse trees had begun to collect as the western edge of the Kinderval Forest. 
   Spruce and many oaks grew on the beginning slope that became the Blue Mountain range that later birthed the triple mount of Jebul.  His morning ride was uneventful beneath a clear sky.  By late evening the thoughts of Felladros were squarely upon the childhood tales of Sinjar.  The moon was out, and her glory full overhead.  One by one the stars appeared.  At nightfall, Felladros found a clearing near the southern tip of Falcon Creek which he knew cut through Sinjar.  It would be his guide north for another day’s journey.  He gathered stones for a ring and tender to start a camp fire.
   “Well, Salom what a grand adventure we’ve begun girl.”  The horse grazed without reply.  After a meal of bread and salted fish, Felladros prepared a bed and slept through the night.
   Awakened at daybreak he announced, “Salom, shall we meet the Witch Kimashe today, and what odd things lay before us?”  An owl called and then another answered.  He found it rather strange that only now did he recall there were no such sounds throughout the night.  Crickets and other birds called as if sound had suddenly come to him.
   Looking into the woods, Felladros felt compelled to change his plans from going to Sinjar to exploring Kinderval instead.  It was an ancient forest with rumored history and myths of forgotten tales, but the young man desired such experiences of his own to tell, for ‘what is life without stories’ he thought to himself.
  The trees grew more and closer together, their canopy began an entangled roof overhead and the floor bedded with a carpeting of leaves, root, and brush.  The more he continued on into the peaceful woods the quieter it became until only the slightest of breezes rustled the branches overhead.  Into the deafening silence of the forest Felladros slowly rode Salom forward.  On and on they went amid the gathering trees as the woods grew denser.  After sometime Felladros dismounted and guided his steed on foot.  The beauty of it all was most enchanting to the young explorer.
   Just as a butterfly winged-past before them, Salom suddenly stopped in her tracks refusing to go any further.  Thinking she might have injured her leg Felladros searched to no avail the cause of her disobedience.  Being unmoved he looked about for another cause and saw only a single deer far ahead deeper amid a clearing.
   “Whatever is the matter with you, girl? First, you stop at a butterfly, and now a deer, as though you have never seen one before.” Felladros laughed to himself petting the horse’s neck.  Upon looking back he saw now that the deer had drawn closer and a gathering with it.  Seeing no better time for a hunt, Felladros slowly reached for the bow across his back.  Stringing his arrow ever so slowly the hunter took sure aim.  The deer turned its head sideways in a strange manner, a breath later the arrow was let loose in a startled fashion.
   “Stop,” was the astonishing voice that frightened Felladros!  Frozen with wide eyes the young man stood as still as his horse.  Looking about he saw no one else.  Salom began stepping backward pulling against the reins as the gathering of deer approached.
   Again the doe spoke in the common speech, “Be not afraid.”
   The young man stammered, “But – how could?”
   “You are not mad, oh son of man,” the deer reassured him.
   Seeing the two of them conversing, Salom was content enough to begin grazing.
   “I must be mad or in a dead sleep,” Felladros refused to believe in a talking animal.
   “Neither,” the deer spoke again.  “I am called an Elodreen.”
   Felladros was overwhelmed with fright, “Only from childhood fables was that name ever uttered, and then evoked by exhausted parents to quell their unruly children!  Be gone foul beast of these wicked woods!”
   The deer made an almost laughing sound, “As all children can be at times, oh frightened son of man.”  She then turned back and called to the stag behind her among the following herd.  He led the group away back into the direction they had come.
   Feeling childish, Felladros likewise acknowledged her trust in him by saddling his bow and quiver. 
   “Over there, son of man shall you find a fully stocked pond of fish by which to feast upon.”  At that, she began digging at the ground with her front hooves, and added, “My deepest gratitude for not slaying me and my kin.
   As the Elodreen spoke, Felladros noticed for the first time that a fringed, beaded pouch hung about the deer’s lean neck.  He said, “I am Felladros, son of Adoromeir of Kathos.  I hail from the sea port only two days south of here.  Pray, tell me whatever are Elodreens, for we call you ‘deer’s?”
   “My name is Na-Ethra.”  After she had dug out a wide area, she added, “I was not unlike you, Felladros for I had wandered far from home as well and sought company here in the Yellow Woods and gave into my special gift.”
   “’Silent One,’ that is a perfect name indeed, and what is your gift if again I may ask,” Felladros inquired.
   “About this hole, place stones and from such tender as those there build a fire for yourself, so as to keep back the night and I shall enchant a story for you like none other.”  He complied and did as she said.  From his pack, he took bread and ate as he waited for her to begin.
   “Behold, my gift and enchantment talents!”  As Felladros watched in amazement she was transformed before his very eyes.  Only her body and legs remained a deer, for from is lower neck she had grown and changed into the torso of a naked woman with slender arms and an Elven face.  She was still covered and a light coating of pale hair and her brows arched high with deer features.  She was beautiful and stunning to behold.  Long red hair covered her high breast, and her brown eyes were a radiant grey-blue.  The fringed pouch remained slung across her chest and shoulder.  Felladros sat down on a fallen tree trunk with words.  She said, “This is an Elven-Deer, my friend.”
   From her pouch, she withdrew a handful of powder and scattered it across the blaze between them, “Cast your eyes upon the flame and behold the truth of grave matters that were and some yet to be!”  The flames leap high in the darkening forest as the quiet man watched in silence.  The flame became a spiraling column with fireflies deep within of changing colors and embers circling about.  To the sleepy eyes of Felladros there seemed to be moving images within the dancing flames and voices and whispers all around him.  She and other spoke as figures came from the shadows and others stood transformed like her.  They spoke of things and times and events Felladros was at a loss to recall or explain.  But in his heart of hearts, he knew they were true.  Suddenly the fire died down to fading embers and a plume of smoke only rose up and her voice alone he heard, “Come what may, all shall pass away and dreams alone shall stay.”


   Noon-light fell on Felladros as he woke the next day.   The fire was cold, and but for Salom he was all alone.  Seeing the fringed pouch resting against the ring of stones told him he had not dreamt his encounter the night before.  Gathering himself he ventured a little further and indeed found the pond filled with fish.  After a meal at the ring of stones, Felladros decided that the yellow woods of Kinderval had gifted enough, for him.  He departed the way he had first entered the forest and continued northward to Sinjar.


   ...



1 Omaylow FORGIVENESS

1 Omaylow
FORGIVENESS
   A stranger from the gathered crowd called out, asking, “Master Dwarf, what is forgiveness?”
  The prophet Omaylow answered, “The weeping man’s reply from God.  It is the wiping away of all those things that once separated him from the divine.”
   The stranger replied, “Is even such a thing possible?”
   The stout man’s stern eyes softened with, “The root of all forgiveness comes from God; alone.”
   The man looked shaken, with guilt written on his face as if only he and the dwarf were speaking in private, “ But - But what of the deed—“
   Omaylow’s gruff voice was almost a whisper, “All deeds may be forgiven.  It takes great strength not to forgive, but to surrender that pain over to God, for only he knows the heart of the fallen.”
   The young man was held back from the edge of tears, whispering back, “But - the guilt and shame of the –“
   The dwarf smiled a hearty glow back at him, “Of the deed?  God forgives; and what of the wrongdoer?  God takes away the wrongdoer’s guilt as the one injured finds healing in the letting go.  But, with man, things take time; yet, even then with God all things are in his time, for we are but a frail breath spent in a long day.”
   Shaking his head the young man disagreed, “I do not believe such a thing is possible, because—“
   The dwarven prophet looked at the man’s wringing hands, “Because - the weight of your guilt presses too much sorrow upon you.”
  Almost sounding angry the man came back with, “You do not know what my hands have done, what I allowed the flesh of my body to do.  All the gods, and religious traditions and happy thoughts could never undo nor withhold the wrath deserved, from falling upon me.  For I -”
   Omaylow finished his words and exposed his secret before all, “That you killed a man just three days ago in Sinjar?  That your purse for such payment was spent on wine and seven whores in Lindol?  That even three tossed coins into a temple passed by, in coming to Mithar was still not enough to aid in ignoring your crime, nor to buy such forgetfulness?   That is why God grants his mercy and Grace is not man in the face of a broken heart confession.  Only when you stop running, will you see his embrace.



   

ENOSH

ENOSH

    These are the words of Enosh the fifth Prophet of Orid who said, “I tell you now as surely as I am standing here, the people beyond the Misty Mountains of the east, and those ancient fathers of Harad; they held the same faces of disbelief as you now. It is not up to me if you believe me or not, for in truth – I do not care!  I am but a messenger.  Love and not fear is what Illuva desires, that none should perish.  I have done as I was instructed and no less. 
   “Today is the day you accept filth into your lives no more.  In three days you will hear that the king of Mithar is fallen, the city destroyed and the Judges restored; then shall you who need a sign know ‘thus says the Lord of Host.’
   “Listen well, for I now tell you a secret Illuva did not forbade me share. Take hope for even after you see these things the end of days has not been accomplished yet. This witnessing generation shall end before gloom washes you away. I speak to those with ears to listen to Nadan’s crows, for they are in flight even now!
   “In three days you will see me no more, but lifted up as red as the sunset then made blinding white before all man – and gone!”

001 Enosh and the STANDING STONES

001 Enosh and the STANDING STONES
   Every year crowds would come from far and wide to observe the bleeding of the Standing Stones of Orid.  In the deserts that were ever growing east of the twin cities of Lindol and Mithar were the wasted lands.  In the {37th} year, after the last stone was placed, the world changed and a new era began to turn hearts to fear. 
   Enosh, the white robed prophet came to the Standing Stones just as the great gathering of crowds began offering their tradition of flowers, beaded necklaces and statued images of the long-dead prophets; whom the stones were the markers thereof.  Merchants came selling these as goods.  With every passing year the event had become more festive than a memorial occasion.
   Suddenly with a shouting voice, that rang out over all the crowds the people became bewildered as to who it was who dared to shout so, “Foolish Generation of Woe!”  The voice called out, but only those near the speaker knew the one; yet those at large could not see him as he continued, “Fools of dreaded forgetfulness!
   “In all of your buying and selling and false piety have you lost sight of the meaning of such things before you?”  The people looked about and could not see but only heard the shouting voice.
   In all the many long years that the crowds had so begun to gather, no one had ever dared to disrespect the tradition in such a manner.  No one said such things and none had ever dared to step over the circle of mounting offerings into the pooling of blood that gathered about the Standing Stones.
   On this day; however, the White robed Prophet claimed the admonishing words as he stepped over the ring of flowers and idols into the pool of blood.  “Behold!”  He continued as everyone now saw the speaker for themselves, hushed and fell to their knees in silence, “Fools who heed no warning!”
   No one had ever walked amid the stones as they bleed before and the sight of the Prophet doing so struck fear into everyone’s heart.  “You have forgotten the words and deeds of those who were slain here, and the very manner of their brutal slumber.  They were all killed for standing up and doing what was right in the sight of God!  They believed something contrary to the lying kings and corrupt priest that control your easily-led-astray hearts.  Behold, you have turned tragedy into a child’s bed time story and mocked the loss of good men!
   “You are all fools.  This is the generation to see the end of the fourth age of man.  When your children shall witness first hand their grandchildren’s lives snuffed out and washed asunder without mournful care!  It is too late, for only Nadan’s eight crows shall be saved!”
   The people began scoffing, murmuring and standing up hurling ridicule at the old man who dared to be so bold in his word and deed.  The Tower guards began to approach, but even they were reluctant to cross over the ring of flowers to lay hands upon the White Prophet.
   Suddenly a rolling thunder cloud began covering the heavens over head as the old man called out, “You did not heed those prophets of old when they walked among you, and now neither shall you heed my words.  Their stones you have rendered useless, even though they bled to get your attention to turn away from your evil practices.  YOU NO LONGER NEED THEM! BE GONE!”
   At his thunderous voice the four great standing stones began crumble away before all the horrified people.  They fell apart like dry bread crumbs from the table before dogs.  The old man raised his arms before the blackening skies and his countenance began to shine, like the light from a furnace in the night.  Instead of the ground, the old man’s white garment began soaking up the blood where he stood.  Moments later the entire pool was no more for the man’s robe were now as crimson red as was his flesh, hair and beard.  The White Prophet had now fulfilled the words of old and turned to red before all the people; who numbered more than nine hundred that day.  As they began to go to their knees, many among them ran in fear.  Enosh radiated as a lone candle flame in the night then in a burst of light – he, was no more, for the Lord took him.  The Standing Stones were gone and the ring of flowers lapped up as if consumed by fire.  Three hundred who stood about that ring were found dead and chard.








The Sayings of Enosh:

The Sayings of Enosh:
God alone knows the hearts of man.
Correction and justice are necessary things.
Evil men strangle the fate of others for their own will.
May clear truth never be called high-treason.
Those who would stand, even in a crowd for righteousness’ sake shall forever be blessed.
A great and terrible thing is marching upon you all …feared the most.
You shall surely be saved…  you and all in your household.. three generations from now.

The sorrow that shall befall that very hour…  because of vain traditions… lies from the Book of Books… like crumbs finger fed to beaten pets! 

VENTURE INTO MY WORLD

VENTURE INTO MY WORLD
The Watcher's Book of Books