Some of these drabbles are already in my "Alassante's Drabbles Collection" but I wanted to put the whole series together. This triple drabble is new and hasn't been posted before.
Some terms/names you may or may not know.
Calacirya - Pass of Light - The cleft made in the mountains of the Pelóri so that the light of the Two Trees could shine through.
hroar - hroa is body, hroar is plural
fëar - fëa is spirit/soul, fëar is plural
Ulmo - Lord of the seas and one of the greatest of the Valar
Ossë - A Maia, the vassal of Ulmo
Aulë -One of the Aratar, the eight greatest of the Valar, The Smith
Tilion - Maia, Tilion was chosen by the Valar to become the pilot of the Moon.
Isil - the moon
~*~
~*~
Ravished hröar, empty now of the fëar that
Gave each their individual voice.
Heinous crimes of savagery, unpardonable
Will ever hearts be raised again to rejoice?
~*~
Will the silence grow deafening, stealing essence
Of Aman, plunging it into never-ending darkness?
Lightning crackles through the air, then silence,
The ocean calms, feeling my caress.
~*~
Unchecked, their pain would be their undoing,
This overwhelming grief, I must abate.
Anguish infuses core of creation,
Unable to protect them from their fate.
~*~
Father's unending sorrow, discord in aria
Long written, was ruthlessly played at last.
Crimson blood soaked threads woven into
Intricate fabric of the First Born's past.
~*~
Wounds so deep, my children despair,
Voices raised in cries of mourning fill the air.
Ballad of Arda maimed immortally, tainted,
Lives forsaken; oh, my beautiful children so fair.
~*~
You were given many gifts in my name,
Yet you defile them, your treason profound.
Traitor to the promise of ageless bliss,
To your curse, you are eternally bound.
~*~
My children, I will raise my voice over weeping,
Bring hope yet again to this endless night,
Bring forth faithful servant Aulë, create the vessel Tilion,
To guide the final flower of elder tree, carry its light.
~*~
Isil rises into stars, my followers' hearts fill with wonder,
Hope once more soothes their torment,
Hearken, turn your fëar, lift your pain to me,
Lay before me your lament.
Winds' roaring through the Calacirya is the only sound
That can be heard over the crashing waves of the stormy sea.
The remnants of death, needless and cruel,
Cause sorrow and rage of mighty Ulmo and Ossë.
~*~
Their torment vented through the water is little comfort
To the Eldar that remain in the Undying Lands.
Once beautiful beaches of Alqualondë, forever stained,
Rivers of blood carved in the pure white sands.