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The Elves of the Dauriath

Ethel of the flowers

By Yichard Muni, Elf bard


Let us meet for real! Name: Richard Trigaux. Artist name: Yichard Muni
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This text is a part of a larger plot, beginning with «The Kiss of the Worlds»

Index of the stories: chronological order, or ordered by creation date



See the audio version and all the information about audio

Music suitable for this story: The Elven Prophecy by Brunuhville.

This story happened during the Exodus of the Elves from the Nyidiath, the Human world, to the Dauriath, which was to become the world of the Elves. There are ten of thousands of stories like that, of life rebounding after the dreadful ordeals of the Exodus. These stories are today an important part of the Elven culture and memory, especially in front of racists denying the horrors of the Exodus, and even its very existence.


Ethel Delle still was a 4 years old little girl, when the soldiers came to expel her Elf tribe from their homeland in the Terallion. Grotty soldiers fouling her body, the long march on the Trail of Tears, the terror of the Horiathon passage, all are souvenirs she carefully avoids to bring back to her consciousness.

Instead, she strongly clung at her idealized memories of the wonderfully flowered Terallion before the soldiers, at spring, with their wooden houses sculpted like violins and overloaded with hanging flower pots. And it was really beautiful, I shall try do describe it, but my poor words will not really render it.

The Terallion was a vast forested plateau, a complex landscape of beige or brown sandstone outcrops, cliffs, hills and abrupt valleys, with a lot of nooks and crannies and small glens. Some cultivation were in the narrow clay bottom of the valleys, or higher in hidden terraces. There were few paths between their villages, known only from the Elves.

As often with Elves, they lived in large tribes from 200 to 500, in big common houses. These were not single buildings, but complex assemblies of small rooms, added with time and the growth of the tribe. These houses were of sculpted carpentry, with roofs of pink and yellowish tiles, each tile crafted with a different shape, to allow for curved forms. So that each bedroom was like a round teapot. The curved walls were of stones of the same colors as the cliffs, and the windows were divided in many small panes of glass separated with sculpted laths. They all had large sills, occupied with numerous flower pots. Inside, the walls were wainscoted (to cope with the cold and snowy winters), and the ceiling were of sculpted carpentry, with woods of different hues. They had paint, but rare, so that they kept it for adding flowers and vines on the polished wood, sometimes showing Elven saints or tale characters. These love nests were joined by a network of covered gangways in the same style, with arcades, balconies, winding stairs. Here and there some larger builds were meeting rooms, workshops, eating rooms, more the temple of Shelenaë. The walls were of stone linked with clay, so that they had to become thicker in the lower levels, with smaller windows. These levels were then used as warehouses or cellars. All those various sized builds were thrown as at random along the slope, from the brook to the cliff, as would be a patch of closely packed mushrooms each trying to outgrow the others. In the country around the village, smaller houses hosted more solitary people, or workshops.

Ethel was still young when she lived in the Terallion. She remembers only one spring, but so beautiful. They were all wandering along paths in the woods, winding among rocks, or crossing the brook with many fancy bridges. And there were flowers. Flowers everywhere, growing in thick patches, strewn in small meadows, or voluptuously climbing on the trees and rocks. Her father Amar, one of the rare Elfs wearing a beard, was carrying her in a backpack, so that she was at the right height to admire the ipomea from up close.

Looking inside the purple chalices, she had a fantastic revelation: it was a magical world of velvety light, of so pure color, that it seemed immaterial, otherworldly. Imagine the impact on her new eyes, not yet blasé by all the futile excitation!

There were many sorts of flowers, proud ones splashing a bush with vivid colors, or more shy ones dotting the shadow under the same bush. Rare ones appearing unexpectedly, or common ones covering fields by millions. And of course all the colors, immaculate whites, bold crimsons, warm oranges, luminous yellows, mysterious purples, celestial blues, sometimes more discreet hues like light green, yellow green, or composite colors mixing pale blue, magenta, dark red, orange and brown, red and black, blue and purple, and many others

Ethel thought that all this landscape was natural, but in fact the Elves had arranged it all, at least along their usual promenade paths. Even the little water lilies harbors had been dug and paved with stones, Japanese garden style. Deeper in the woods, or on the stony slopes, was pure untouched nature. But still, the powerful magical egregore of the Elves had transfigured everything: leaves, earth and stone were all nicely arranged and powerfully vibrating with life and joy. Deep woods were dark and mysterious, brown crags were warm and jagged, propitious to meditation.

These rocks were also mysterious in their way: containing fossils. Ethel was dumbfounded when she realized the huge span of time needed to turn these ancient beings into stone. There clearly was an immense world abroad, with plenty of things to discover. These fossils were well known all throughout the Terallion, each kind had a name and lot of stories about it. Of course by the time they had not modern archaeology to unravel real facts, but still when archaeologists heard their stories, they were astonished.

Her mother Imala showed Ethel how to sow flowers, and how to transplant them. She was spending a lot of time with all the pots on the window sills. Those were arranged in a very practical way, with a rim to avoid the pots falling, breaking tiles or injuring somebody. To avoid leaning in a disadvantageous position to lift the heavy pots, they had a sort of two pronged fork. Some may find this very curious, but the width of the pots was standardized, for the fork. But each inhabitant could arrange several pots of his choice on his own sill. Past the standardized width, each pot had been crafted manually, and had a different form and decoration.

Ethel was fascinated by the seeds germinating, the roots finding their way (some delicate seeds were germinated in cloth), the first leaves pointing and opening. But of course she was excited by which flower would open, and by the time she left the Terallion she already knew several tens.

Imala had a greenhouse where she was keeping the most delicate plants in the winter. By summer it was too hot, but still used for germinating some seeds. Ethel loved this place, and, under the direction of her mother, she had started her own modest cultivation.

The tribe also had several carpentry or luthiery workshops, and even a small bronze foundry for kitchen ware or instrument parts. The foundry was of course separate from the village, to avoid propagating fire. But it was near an earth ware work, with a much larger kiln for baking tiles, flower pots, water piping, kitchen ware. Ethel went here once, but she was scared off by the rumbling furnace with red glowing eyes!!


Humans. Ethel knew them, she even saw some several times, coming in the Elven village for barter, or for healing. At that time, the Terallion Council was discussing of accepting money. But given its terrible negative magical force, only some high priests would handle it, for dealing with Humans. Among themselves, the Elves would keep with their voluntary free gifts system, so precious that very few were willing to compromise it. Ethel also knew that sometimes Humans were becoming Elves, and then they were coming to live with them. There even was one in the village. Ethel, though, had no idea of the transformations this implied, so that she was thinking that Humans were just other Elfs living in other villages. In front of her, her parents were speaking of Humans in a neutral tone, although sometimes Ethel noticed they were whispering or hiding of her while speaking of Humans. She suspected something bad about them, but without guessing anything. So that she avoided speaking of Humans.


Actually, the Terallion was one of the most ancient Elven settlement, created right after the First Exodus. This was well documented, they were from the Shankar tribe, one of the main groups who branched from the First Exodus. Some smaller groups went further north, separating in several directions. Others disappeared. Contrarily to the Sylvan Elfs, the Terallion Elfs had decided from the beginning to accept Humans wanting to become Elfs. This makes that the Terallion have all the hair colors, although still predominantly dark hairs. They also started exchanging news and some goods with the surrounding Human kingdoms, making them a much easier life than the more reclusive Sylvan Elfs. More, this made them respected by the Humans surrounding them.


Until recently.


In the beginning of the Terallion, there was only one big village, from the first Exodus group. It was rather a long row of houses, in the same propitious valley, where they still had their main temples and council. This council room, rebuilt several times since, was still keeping the name «Shankar». But little by little, they had populated the whole Terallion mountain range, and created hundreds of other villages. Since the Terallion mountains are large, they had become numerous, hundred of thousands. In the beginning, Humans were too far away to interact. But little by little, as the two populations grew, they came into contact. They established peaceful relationship, although on an each-one-his-business basis. This allowed numerous Elves to live out of the Terallion, among Humans, as far as the Seven Cities Kingdom (Heptapolis), and all the mountainous region from Tellutaar to the border of the plains surrounding the Blue Mountains.

This lasted until the growing anti-Elfs propaganda and elfophobia made the relationship with Humans difficult. Although nobody yet could predict the extent of the havoc which would result. Things started to become really confrontational with more and more encroachment by hunters, loggers, miners. In Ethel's village, this was not visible, but peripheral villages were finding loggers destroying their forests. According to the agreements with the neighboring Human lords, out of the Terallion proper, the Elfs could not do the police themselves, they had to ask for the protection of the Human Lords. The later arrested some poachers, but they let ten more arriving after. In the Terallion itself, Elfs could have warriors, so that they killed some of the destroyers of nature. By the epoch standards, it was considered as a legitimate measure. But this just made things worse, with retaliation on innocent Elfs living in the cities around the Terallion. The Elfs had to resort to their magical protection, but it is right at this moment that it stopped operating! Leaving the Elfs in a very precarious position, surrounded with now declared enemies, with no way to defend themselves.


Ethel was too young to be informed of all this, so that she was totally taken by surprise when the soldiers suddenly entered their village, screaming like beasts, beating, raping, destroying, burning. Several dark months of Exodus followed, before she found herself in the Dauriath, the new living place of the Elfs. Happily she was not separated from her parents, but several other kids were missing, and with all the turmoil only half of their tribe could gather at their arrival in the Dauriath. The others probably landed in other harbors, but with the hugeness of the Dauriath there was no way to know where.

Followed tens of very difficult years, where they lived in huts with a scarce food. In the Dauriath, everything had to be rebuilt from dirt and logs, and for long they wore unpleasant clothes of gross brown fabric, slept in ferns, ate with their hands in earthenware pots. Beauty and flowers were very low on the priority list, and Ethel, now adult, often saw trees, plants and flowers slashed to build paths, houses, workshops. In the Terallion all these things existed centuries before her birth, and by the time she had no idea that they had to be built, damaging the nature in the process. Only patience healed the wounds of the plants, when they grew around the new houses as if these were part of nature.

Following her ordeal, trauma and lack of food, Ethel grew as a slender, small, pale and very shy young lady, some even though she was intellectually disabled. Like some flowers do in the cold, she had kind of folded on herself, closed. What the soldiers did had destroyed her desire for love. But when this desire is destroyed, everything else also is: Ethel had taste for nothing, she was just passive, doing what she was asked to, without really putting her heart into it. She had no purpose or project, just desperately grasping at the company of her tribe. This lack of personal initiative made the ancients of the village and everybody worried for her. Many also had terrible experiences, but they were coping and slowly rebuilding themselves, with meditation and spirituality, with the social recognition of their friends, or with the love of a companion. But not Ethel, she remained the same lonely and sad figure, a drain of energy for the community egregore, without any positive contribution. She was only four when she was wounded, so that she had a much higher slope to re-climb than the adults, and very few means to do so.

The elders and helpers were worried that Ethel would never find her roots, and she would remain like that and even lose her elvenhood, become old and die of age as Humans do. This sometimes happens alas, when people's magic is too weakened, making them vulnerable to evil egregores or to common mind control.


Slowly the Elfs were reorganizing in the Dauriath. Geographical survey were made, and mail services were established. Not really exchange of letters between people, but at least an exchange of lists of where people were. Their first work was to reunite all the separated tribes and families, and to attribute them land. For this purpose, everybody was requested to add a tribe name to their usual names, to be more easily found in the immense Dauriath. The Terallion being big, they were assigned several. This is how Ethel became Terryel Ethel Delle. Terryel for their Terallion valley, Delle for her mother's family.

This is thanks to this patient paperwork that, one day, Ethel's tribe heard of the New Terallion. It was said that it was much like the ancient, but with warmer winters. Many of the other villages were already here, including some members of their own village!

So they moved again, by little groups to avoid burdening people on their way. Happily the Dauriath was totally safe of the thieves and slavers which made travels so hazardous in their ancient world. The best way to travel was to organize a caravan carrying goods. So Ethel went with a group bringing tools and other stuff. Happily this travel was by boat, but still Ethel did not liked it, too much a reminiscent of the Exodus. They landed in a harbor where they delivered part of their cargo. Then they joined another horse caravan bringing fabrics, wheat and kitchen ware, on their way to the New Terallion.

Arriving was the first really happy event in Ethel's new life: finding again a lot of lost friends, who welcomed them with a merry feast! Some families and lovers were reunited too, and their sweet happiness splashed all their still hard living conditions. There were also some children that Ethel knew. She did not recognized them at once, since they were now adult. But still they soon became friends again. Unfortunately the sudden arrival of dozens of people found the village short of houses, so that they lived for one year and a half in warehouses. But at least they had a real roof above them, and this simple thing was really precious!

At first glance, the New Terallion looked much like the ancient, a forested plateau with darker brown rocky outcrops. But these rocks were very different: basalt, and a lot of gray scree, gravel and regolith. No way to find a single fossil in the whole Dauriath! There were no deep valleys either, but gullies which cut through the soft regolith layer, until they found the bedrock foundation. On the other hand, as everywhere in the Dauriath, there are small iron rocks strewn everywhere; this helped a lot the new installations using still crude means.

Trees and plants were different too. Especially most of the nut trees feeding them in the old Terallion were absent, and they had to cut some of the native trees to plant nut trees. They were doing so very progressively, in the measure they needed timber and firewood, and only by small separated patches to avoid harming the biodiversity.

Their new village was still in works. It was much better than huts, with already stone walls, carpentry and tiles. But all bare, without any decoration, and full of scaffolding, trenches, etc.

Of course they had a tiles kiln here too, the thing which scared young Ethel when she was a little girl. It was small, but operating continuously: a tunnel oven, designed to save cutting trees for firewood. It used an ingenious heat recuperation system: palettes bearing the raw ware were entering the tunnel by the smoke exhaust, under the high chimney. They were warming as they advanced in the tunnel, receiving hotter and hotter gasses, until they reached the fire itself. This was already saving firewood. Once baked, they excited the fire area, and cooled with the fresh air entering the furnace. This made this air already hot when it reached the fire, saving again a lot of firewood. A chute allowed to load the fire with charcoal, without the flames getting out by there. While the total baking cycle took a full day, a palette was exiting the kiln every 1-2 hours, making this thing very productive despite its small size. Several vanes allowed to control the gas flow, and stop it when they were pushing the palettes. These palettes were not sliding, but rolling on iron cylinders all along the path. These cylinders could be turned via a long crankshaft, from the outside of the thick refractory walls. The most astute part however was an obscure chamber above it, where tiny holes projected images of the content of the oven, without exposing the viewer to the fierce heat!

This was very efficient, but needed to be operated 24/7, so that most able Elfs were running it in turn. When palettes entered, most contained tiles, but also kitchen ware, piping elements, etc. At times Ethel was requested to work here, and this made that she knew how it operated.

It was a very organized team work, with a shift master, so that any untrained Elf could take a function at once. Most of the time there was nothing to do, save watching the temperature and loading charcoal. But when the fusible cones were starting to lean, the shift master rang a bell once, calling for people. When the cone was completely soft, he rang the bell three times, and this started a rumpus of shouting orders, maneuvering all the vanes in a fast and orderly sequence, swiftly cranking the palettes, while the kiln was making frightening sounds and jets of smoke. Ethel's father, Amar, was one of the shift leaders, and he took this function several times a week, most often at night.

Since people were needed at unpredictable times, they had to be present along the whole cycle. So that the kiln workshop had found a second unintended use: philosophy discussions, or wild improvised stories, without the limitations and style constrains of the sacred Dharsham. This made a much more humorous tone, sometimes lewd (But never vulgar: they are Elves!!). Or they evoked memories of the Exodus. Some of them still had a desperate need to speak, to exorcise their lingering trauma. But as an implicit rule, they did that only at night, when sensitive people like Ethel were not hearing. Well, this way she also missed the funniest stories.

Ethel much preferred to work with the looms, to make fabric. But the crop of raw fiber was still low, and most of their clothing was raw, ocher and worn. As to bedding, they had a kind of kapok to make mattresses and quilts, but no real bed sheets. So that, even with the intrinsically clean elf body, they were living in dirt. A thing that Elves don't like, and which was making especially Ethel unhappy.

Food also was scarce, with only some nut trees. For this reason they had to carry wheat on horse caravans, from the plains around. Happily the huge planned effort to create a good farming had paid off, with an abundance of wheat and some other veggies or fruits. But these had to be brought in the village, and many of the Terallion Elfs spent time in caravans. They were also planting new nut trees, in the spaces liberated from cutting wood for fire and timber.


This is how finally Ethel started to come back on saddle. They had a kind of greenhouse, for planting the delicate seeds of the nut trees. This suddenly reminded her from the wonderful times of her childhood, before the tragedy. So she attended the seeds program, and quickly became the most assiduous worker here. In fact there was not much to do, save watering the seed pots, and getting them out longer and longer to better their chances of surviving the transplant. They needed clay pots for this, and they had to made them and place them on a palette in the kiln. This is how she learned earth work too.

But going in the woods was discouraging her: the elven magic had not yet impregnated the landscape, and in the forest the undergrowth was a shamble of shrubs, brambles, fallen branches, mud and rocks, with no paths, making walk difficult and unpleasant. This was strongly conflicting with her memories of clear moss-covered undergrowth, so neat that they could sleep on the ground.

Ethel slowly understood that the wonderful landscapes of her memories were not raw nature. Instead they resulted from thousands of years of slow building work, more lot of love and dreaming. Further, with so many meditations, their egregore had become strong enough to literally enchant the landscape, plants and flowers. This showed physically, with everything growing nicely, even in the wildest woods. It is said that many flowers and spices were existing only in the Terallion. But few of them could really bring seeds in the exodus, even the last to depart who had more time to organize.

Now in the Dauriath they had to use axes and scythes to clear places for transplants. Of course Ethel did not liked this, but she had to go in the forest to help. It is in one of these forays that she suddenly spotted a wild ipomea. How did it arrived here? All the plants, she knew, had been brought in the Dauriath by the birds, mostly as seeds in their poop. But these ipomea were seldom doing seeds, mostly multiplying by their roots. So that, it was very possible that this ipomea was the very only one in the whole Dauriath. And it had landed right here, as if wast right to her to find it!

After some hesitation, she peered inside the chalice... and she found again, intact, the wonderful feeling of her childhood, the bewitching light inside the so pure purplish color! She was petrified with awe and delight! The other Elf with her, Ethan, first called her, but she did not responded. He approached, to see if she was right (They always discretely checked her, in case something happened. There had been suicides by victims of the Exodus, because losing one's elvenhood is unbearably sad). Then he realized what was happening, and he too kept silent, motionless.

This lasted a long moment, her lost in the vibrant magic of the flower, he avoiding to disturb this wonderful moment. Then she suddenly had a vision: there was male and female flowers, but no suitable pollinator insects. And yes she checked, some flowers had stamens and no pistil, while others had a pistil only (This is not like Earth ipomea, of course. Remember that this is a different world, and so with different flowers. I call these ones ipomea, because this name arises a comprehensible image in your mind, while a strange name would not)

So what Ethel did, was taking a wick of her brown hairs, and delicately caress the stamen, then the pistils. After, she checked, that she really had some of the yellow powder on her hair. Once this done, she went up, and started to plant one of the markers she was bringing for the nut trees, wrapping on it one of the vines of her flower. Not a single Elf in the whole Dauriath could miss the meaning of that.

Then she became again conscious from her surrounding, the mess of cut branches pushed besides, and Ethan looking at her silently. She blushed and tried to murmur some apologies for making him wait. But he just smiled, saying: «you did right. Somebody had to start that some day anyway. Food and shelter are becoming less urgent».

Back in the village, she did not dared to speak of this to anybody. But she was now impatient of seeing the result of her action, going to check on the spot every day, and spending time lost in the chalices.

But she needed something. She shyly went in Arth's wood workshop, asking him a special little box, with removable sides. When he asked which size, she was not knowing! «For the two pronged forks» she was just remembering that. Arth was surprised, then a light switched on in his eyes. He smiled: «I know the size». Sure he knew it, he had managed to salvage a book from the ancient Terallion, just the size of the fork, while grotty soldiers were in his bedroom pestering him for packing his luggage, with children screaming in terror in the next house. During the whole exodus, he clung at this book, as of an utmost important thing. Now he knew why!

The next day, with the completed box, she went in the earthware workshop, at time of the meal when nearby nobody was in. There was clay ready, for other purposes. This was not stealing, just that she did not dared to ask. She flattened a clay ball with a roll, just as we do pies. Then she placated this clay on the walls of her box. Hearing somebody coming, she fled to her bedroom, with the tools and what she needed.

Two day later, the clay had dried, and Ethel went in the furnace workshop. There always were people here, watching the fire and ringing the bell when they needed a team to help. (An iron bell, with a less colorful sound. But they ended loving it too, and kept this one, even later when they had bronze).

Palettes were waiting their turn at the entrance of the furnace, partially loaded with ware brought from the workshop. People put their creation on a palette, after marking it with their name so that they could be found when it excited the kiln 20 to 25 hours later. There was a palette with only one pipe tee, so big that nothing else could take place with it. She put her flower pot here, in the only free corner, hoping that nobody saw her. But Melian was the team leader then, and she came to check that the palette was correctly loaded. When she understood, she looked a bit aghast, making a small «Oh». Then she smiled happily, while Ethel was scooting away, red with shyness. This is one of the beauties of the elven society: even a child can contribute, and his contribution is taken care of as seriously as industrial needs like the pipe.

Ethel thought that perhaps they just had discarded her creation, and she did not dared to check the output of the kiln. She was wrong, the next day Mareena came knocking at her door, bearing her work, smiling. She could find Ethel, thanks to her name engraved at the underside of the pot, for the next team leader to know who put it in the furnace.


A flower pot.


Not the raw farming pots they were using for the nut trees, but a nice, decorated window sill flower pot, complete with the notches for the fork, and a hole to plant a rod for a climbing plant. Ethel even had, from memory, reproduced some of the acanthus leaves which ornamented the Terallion pots!


An useless, low priority flower pot, when they were still had not enough food, clothes, bedding.


They were all so much focused on survival and rebuilding, that they had totally disregarded beauty!


Mareena had added a fine linen long tunic in the pot, at Ethel's size, from a roll of fabric received some days sooner. Unhappy people were the top priority for that.

That evening, Ethel received another visit, of somebody she even not dared to look at: Terryel Hannah Maweeleen, high priestess of Shelenae. She smiled and spoke at her these simple words:

«You know, sometimes, simple actions of youngsters speak more truth than the thorough predictions and planning of the elders»

Then, as Ethel looked incredulous:

«This means you did right. We were all taken in our rebuilding and farming. But we had to start this anyway, some time. Feel right, and feel proud, young Elve».

Ethel's heart pounded while hearing the last word. So not all was lost for her!!



Some days later, she could gather seeds from her ipomea in the woods. Somebody had cleared the dead branches and last season fern around, so that it had more light. She planted the seeds in her pot, together with some fine earth of the woods.

All this had happened nearby in private. But most remarked that Ethel was less shy, daring to speak to people. Especially, she was doing things, carrying sacks, making more flower pots.

But she did not dared yet to wear her beautiful linen tunic in public. It was not perfectly white, but still much clearer than their ocher clothes, making her very noticeable. At home she wore it, and soon she loved it. And indeed if you saw her, you would find her very beautiful.


One of the difficulties was that their simplified windows had no sills! They started building sills from this moment on, but it was difficult to modify the existing dry stones walls, without rebuilding whole sections of them. So they used large iron hooks instead, at the size of the former forks, grabbing the whole wall to avoid slipping. Happily native iron was abundant, they just had to forge it. Little by little, merry color dots started to enlighten their austere village. Just one is already enough to totally change the vibe, did you ever noticed?


Ethel needed a place to keep seeds and multiply them. Soon the nut tree greenhouse was not enough. Then Gunma Maweeleen opened her own Shelenaë priestess garden to her. Gunma is an endearing title for the Shelenaë priestesses, when they act as a love counselor. By extension it is used too when she helps people in moral difficulties. And after the Exodus there were many. Also the Shelenaë priestesses had several ritual obligations. First, to be a mother. Second, to have a garden, with a list of mandatory spices and medicinal plants. Alas most of these were missing from the Dauriath, so that she had spare place for Ethel's cultivation.

This is how they became close friends, and Ethel started to rebuild her self-confidence. Actually Gunma knew that she could not speak with Ethel of her injuries. But she also knew what she needed above all: warm friendship and fail safe support in whatever she wanted to do.

Soon ipomea started to climb about everywhere, bringing their strong purple spiritual vibe. It is under the first tonelle of them, that a group of Elfs spontaneously restarted their Dharsham, evening of collaborative story telling and creation. This set a strong precedent, and the mood of the village drastically changed from this moment on, even if not all could attend by lack of a large gathering room. So that they sometimes did it outside around a fire, when weather allowed.

They soon needed more kinds of flowers. Ethel spent time in the surrounding meadows and woods, gathering exquisite small yellow flowers living between stones, with few water. They had to be delicately transplanted and multiplied. But soon they adorned more and more portals, walls, staircases, etc. Their beauty was that we had to be very close to see them in details. But they gave to the village's stones a distinctive warmer hue.

So Ethel had to take part in caravans toward the plains and other mountains, in order to pick up more flowers. She did not liked that, but she had to do it. Nearby everywhere was the same story: emergency builds, and flowers being cultivated only recently. She understood that her initiative was not isolated, but a part of a much larger movement. This is how the elven magic starts, explained Gunma Maweeleen, when different people do the same thing, just when needed, without prior concerting.

It is in one of these expeditions that she met Milius, a slender handsome young Elf with blonde curly hairs, wearing a near-white long tunic like her's. He was also born before the Exodus, in one of the Seven Kingdoms. He was six when the soldiers came. They mutilated him in the most ignoble way, out of mere amusement. He barely survived the massive blood loss, and since then he was half living, just as Ethel did. He was not sad, cherished by his parents, brothers and sisters. But he suffered of being forever unable to know love with a woman.

An Elve who had lost her desire for love, and a physically incapacitated Elf, their chances of forming a happy couple were null, you will say. But behold the wonder.

Indeed, the elven magic can sometimes regenerate a missing body part. Just that it takes many years, and a fully operational magic. Well, magic, they had lost it, since their god MakTar removed it, many years before the Exodus. Worse, all in their rebuilding, they were not much thinking at magic. Some born after the Exodus even thought that it was a legend, that it never existed.

Problem, magic is not built from iron or into kilns, but of many useless things: regular meditations, a constantly running Dharsham, beauty, silly elven jokes, music, all the hues of love, and... gazing at flowers. Nobody specially is wielding it, right on the contrary the ego is the worse killer of magic (If we had none we would all fly in the stars). This is how Ethel understood that she had a role, and that the others were relying on her. Nobody asked her anything, instead she understood herself that it just was the situation to be lived in.

Milius' family, having no place of their own, and seeing how well he fared with Ethel, decided to move to the Terallion with her. This was not new, and about 5% of the New Terallion dwellers were not born in the ancient Terallion. In the beginning they had to use an old house of early build, which was planned for dismantling. This allowed them to build a new one, this time with large sills to the windows!!

From this journey, Ethel brought the seeds of about 20 new kinds of flowers, while Gunma also was offered some more of her ritual inventory, by other priestess around. They even organized a system to share all of them, since all the necessary seeds were in one place or another in the Dauriath.


And yes they found out that indeed Ethel's ipomea were unique. They never appeared anywhere else. People were so fond of them that they had to give the seeds one per one.


Soon, many patches of flowers, spices or medicinal plants appeared in the village, wherever there was an unused spot or terrace. Gunma's garden was not large enough for that. Ethel planted a lot, helped by Milius, and soon other young Elfs and Elves. Since sills were not practical to add to existing houses, they planted on specially arranged terraces, big or small. This prompted more people in rebuilding the most ancient houses, of poor quality, with more nooks and crannies for flowers, and more carved carpentry.

They also started to arrange the surroundings of the brook, and some promenade paths in the forests.

Ethel was still having a very vivid vision of the ancient Terallion, that she was now sharing enthusiastically in the Dharshams.


This is how she became known as Ethel of the flowers.


Milius helped her a lot rebuilding her heart, with his silent friendship and open arms.

But Milius' case was more difficult. They needed operative magic, not just human warmth.

It came little by little, by stealth and elusive increments.

Ethel meditated everyday to rebuild Milius' flower. For many time, nothing happened. But one day she felts a presence besides her! Was it Shelenaë herself? There were stories where she appeared to repair broken loves. But it could be any other elven saint, or just deceased Elves helping living people from the Beyond. Or maybe just her imagination, this kind of feelings often happens in meditation.

Fact is, burgeons of flesh started to form soon after this encounter. That was the most difficult part, needing a burst of strong magic, that nobody in the village could provide by the time, and especially not Ethel. After, growing it was much less difficult (some people do this kind of things on Earth)


This is how she became known as Ethel of his flower.


They could finally marry, and have a normal life, erasing all the scars of the past and experiencing all the aspects of love without any restriction.


And all the new Elfs had to admit: Magic actually exists! They also could see how the forest and surroundings slowly became more beautiful...


Today, seven centuries after these difficult times, the Horiathon is open again and the Elves can return to the Human world. Ethel and Milius are still a very happy couple, and their village is one of the largest and most beautiful of the whole New Terallion. All covered in flowers, with wonderful paths in the forest, sneaking between large trees and on small useless bridges. Butterflies are flapping around, and the undergrowth resounds with birds.

And its magic has become powerful: we feel the wonder as soon as we enter the forest, with strangely reverberating bird songs, and a wealth of flowers and voluptuous liana. All the bramble has disappeared, while rays of sunlight starry with insects fall on intensely green moss, in a golden haze. The feeling of wonder is so strong that even humans (some good ones were invited) cannot repress an intense shiver of happiness.

Discovering the villages is even more impressive. There are happy people slowly walking around, apparently without purpose. It is still looking as a fantazy village, with houses strewn as at random. And flowers!! Flowers everywhere, covering walls and rocks, accompanying the paths and winding stairs! This continues all along the brook and the forest promenade path, until the rocky cliff, where await meditation lodges and terraces with view. Further, other villages share the same beauty, although each in a different style.


Later on, when the Horiathon passage reopened and travels became possible again, emissaries were sent in the ancient Terallion, which was left empty after the Humans sacked its forests and mines. Only loggers went in since, desecrating it with roads. Also, several electric power lines were built through. And toxic wastes disposals, since the land was «empty»... Of the wonderful villages, only stomps of walls remained. Was the ancient Terallion repairable? Was its magic still operating? The emissaries found a yes reply to both questions. But it would not happen at once, and only as the Humans understood the need of this. Some had started.


In the New Terallion, Ethel and Milius' house is not large, but it is nearby all covered with flowers, especially ipomea, which seem to be very happy here. Fine elven jokers say that with Ethel's attentive and assiduous love, Milius' flower should have grown pretty big, and not a week passes without somebody coming to ask for seed. What she replies is very kind, but it is better that it remains in the beautiful elven language 😀

Ethel's reply is here: Lumina by Brunuhville. I let you translate 😊


The end of this story.


Audio reading and musics

On demand from my readers in virtual worlds, several of these stories are in voice:

Recommended background music: the story of Ethel Delle vibrates with Brunuhville"s works, especially The Elven Prophecy and Lumina

Music plays an important role in these stories: to give the vibration. For this reason, I recommand hearing some while reading or playing the audio. Some were the source of inspiration. However few musicians allow derivative works. I then gladly tell how to hear these music, with links.


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The generation of this story (Spoiler alert!)

In December 2022, after years of struggle to preserve our virtual life, and after months of work on the saga of Iraen, I found myself doing my elven evenings in simulcast between two virtual worlds:

Sovaria, that I support as the based on Halcyon, the best simulator of the moment,

and Alternate Metaverse, who them support me as an artist.

In more, both asked me to put my stories in sounds, instead of text. Which increases the impact, but also the work! With «obligation» to record one per week! Hence the creation of new stories. But this cannot be done on order, I need energy and inspiration. Hence a series of new stories in 2022 and 2023, in more of the sound recording of various parts of my books. A supplementary difficulty is to find good free of rights musics (or the authorisation of authors).





Scenario, graphics, sounds, colours, realization: Richard Trigaux (Unless indicated otherwise).

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Legal and copyright notice.

Modified in 2024

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