Legends of Belariath

Mozenwrathe

Indirectly - Where Has My Daylight Gone

*there are some things that cannot be explained: why the sky is gold at some hours of the night in the mountain range of the southern tip of Oceana, how some dragons know exactly when to powerdive in order to catch a rare giant sunfish out of the waters of the Legiviana Seas, where the burial place of the first High King of the Dwarves REALLY is. other items of life upon this fantastic world are a little simpler to figure out, such as how this one angry and dangerous human repeatedly has in his possession scrolls which were of the long deceased Tolwyn. unfortunately for Ehlanna, the sylvan elf who loved him the most, such answers were not forthcoming as she happened upon another one of Tolwyn's poems shortly after the departure of the incensed Prydain (as she finally discovered his name was). Still, that did not stop her from reading through this "latest" work of Tolwyn's, for any caress of Tolwyn's upon her memory was a welcome one.*

just past the point of no return for the dawndoes this nightfall caress the landnot with scorn or hatred does night claim her duebut with gentle affection and delicate passions

where has my daylight goneforever and a day has my life been in darknesseven though I have not sought out my deathstill does it feel I wander through murky depths

outstretched are my arms and fingerspraying for the return of the light to my graspbut no fates shine upon me this moment of shadowas even they cannot turn back time and destiny's hand

here now lay I within the folds of blanket etheralyet can I never sleep with true comfort and at peacefor while my eyes are closed is my soul openlearning and growing as a baby turning into a man

this turn of the eternal dial from sunset to sunrisea blink in the eye of a goddess may be a lifetime to one dozen mortals at oncewho are all born to die in the looms of nature

unfathomed yet is the truest measure of timeas if it lay in wait for the most bold and innocentone whose hands are unscarred by hate or terrorable to reach into fires of ice or oceans of gravel

where has my daylight goneuntil my next sight of golden raysshall this lonely heart be curious and fearful

*the hand in which this is written is still Tolwyn's, but it is like something has been done to it. never had Ehlanna seen Tolwyn's script look so bold or dominant, as if something had transformed him into a man whose experience and confidence was far beyond the clever and wonderful youth she had fallen in love with so many years ago. once more, it seemed that answers to the growing mystery lay in the lap of Prydain's towering form, but first she would have to catch him alone in order to mine the truth from him.*

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