Legends of Belariath

Mozenwrathe

Her Tongue Brings Destiny - Flooding My Vision With Glory

*There are a lot of myths about races that could fly, or perhaps used to. About creatures that are in the depths of the ocean that can soar into the skies to catch their prey. About weapons gifted by the gods to fight beside their chosen masters. Every race and village has at least one tale of that nature. It is just that some people tend to gather these tales and make money off of singing versions of them to farming villages. For Neelkamala D'aari, she has taken this far beyond using it to earn herself a little coin here and there. She is what her Tribe calls a fatesinger: one who can sing someone's future into vision. She has used her time away from her village to remind herself that one's predicted future is never completely immutable. If the mountains can wash into the sea, and new islands raised by the rage of a disappointed god, then the future cannot always be exactly as what she has seen. In her own way, Neelkamala is fighting fate as she was destined to perish at the age of five and thirty autumns.*

Her Tongue Brings Destiny - Flooding My Vision With Glory
by Neelkamala D'aari, fatesinger of the Platinum Feather Tribe

and without the day to greet the herd
shall the night forever cover these lands
blanket of darkness coating farm and friend
essence of slumber wraps around ankles
pulling all those within its gentle grasp
into world of impassioned dreams and
leaving what needs be done untouched

the dragon's daughter Nora'Lizanthia
saw the night's hold on the dreaming grow stronger
she whom embodied the starry sky
not wishing to give up what she had claimed
unless gift of cherished creativity
was sacrificed to her personal desires
but would she known best as Dome'Vanim
would not set foot on the earth itself
and whatever was to be brought to her
had to reach her castle in the clouds

within five days did Nora'Lizanthia weave
something she had never thought possible
a tapestry of wonderful colours
with the strength of chain mail
more beautiful than a moriel maiden
dressed in slave's spidersilk
the dragon's daughter smiled once more
kissing the creation with her soul
giving it the gift of true and unabashed flight

with a woven basket made from magic
and fruits so ripe they could make men weep
did Nora'Lizanthia raise herself into the heavens
using the tapestry to carry her aloft
and presenting the three treasures most humbly
to Dome'Vanim with an impish grin
leaving the Mistress of Evening's Grace
speechless and without excuse
to let the chariot of the day's dawn
race across the skies once more

and without the day to greet the herd
shall the night forever cover these lands
but with the gifts given to a hardened heart
was selfishness melted away
like the ice in the beautiful spring time
tears of joy and surprise ran down the face
of she who had held darkness over all
tasting what the day could bring
and for once in her long life
having someone to share such pleasure with

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