The Elves of the Dauriath

Irinaël's Light

By Yichard Muni, Elf bard

 

 

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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

 

 

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Important background music for this story: Frozen Frontier, by Fire Side Chants.

This story is probably the most mysterious of the whole Nyidiath History, a wild tale of mysticism and magic, a weird and hauntingly beautiful enigma, of a kind which can happen only to Elves. It took place in the ancient mythical times, 7000 years ago, when the first Elves fled from the Blue Mountains where Elvenhood was born.

This flight is often referred as the First Exodus, or The Flight, or the Hejira, and it was by many regards much worse than the Great Exodus toward the Dauriath: from 40% to 70% of the total Elven population died in a way or another, on a total estimated between 3000 and 8000. Although all these numbers are based on rough estimates or second hand accounts, so that we can just say that it was terrible. I tried to reconstitute this story as accurately as possible, from the rare reliable sources.

Elvenhood started long ago in the Neolithic times, maybe 10000 years ago, in a small tribe of black haired Humans, who took refuge on the very top of the Blue Mountains. By the time, MakTar and Shelenaë were very ordinary Humans, the chief and shaman of the tribe, respectively. However Shelenaë's shamanic predictions were remarked, when she saved the tribe from the Tankaor, the Long Night, the Dark Winter. Later on, they became hermits. It is their meditation which led them yo the discovery of Elvenhood. All this is told with more details in «The story of MakTar and Shelenaë», for the few we actually know of those forgotten times.

The terrifying Tankaor had in a way reset the population of the whole Shartan continent. The Elves were the only survivors in the whole region of the Blue Mountains, without any Human in sight. Several centuries followed, where they were free to multiply and occupy the whole Blue Mountains. This was their Golden Age, where they were able to develop the first elven cultures, languages and arts, in what was still the Neolithic. It also was a propitious time for spirituality and magic, a time of light, simplicity and confidence. It was before materialistic and egocentric societies weakened them so much.

Things went even further, when the founders MakTar and Shelenaë chose to Transubstantiate: transforming their physical body into a spiritual body, and leave this wold to live in the Great Beyond, without passing by the process of death. The witnesses saw them turning in two orbs of light, tender pink and light blue, which then disappeared to the sight of the eye of flesh, without leaving any corpse behind. This is how MakTar and Shelenaë became the Gods of the Elves, guiding them from the Great Beyond, through shamanic trances and mystical apparitions. One of these apparitions is described in the story «Fahrad and Mithylia».

This fantastic event produced a lot of emulation, enticing everybody into high spiritual practices. The most revered elven saints were in this epoch, and several spiritual currents appeared. Other transsubstantiation cases resulted, or Tukdam or odor of sanctity. Since Maktar and Shelenaë had left no corpus of concepts, speaking only to intuition, several radical groups of mystics and Yogis created their own teachings, with simple or elaborated conceptual systems. Probably the concept of the Unique emerged at this time, and likely too of the other Human Gods. By the time of course they were not beliefs, but Guilams, what we call Yidams on Earth.

One of these spiritual currents had gathered around Irinaël, a wonderful and very charismatic Elve in a floating long white tunic, who was remarked for striking premonitions and spiritual helps. She had gathered some dozens of followers meditating with the techniques she had designed. Her teaching was simple, positive, and much centered on obtaining a good afterlife. She had been close to Shelenaë until the end, and she had elaborated similar projects, such as creating her own afterlife paradise. She often spoke of her paradise as «The Light», but non-adepts refer at it as «Irinaël Light».

They knew that there were other mountains around. One of them, to the east, sometimes appeared white in winter, or pink at sunset. We know today that it was the Tonnar range, in modern Kondo and Rhondo. With the climate change, they are now snowy several months every year, and even glaciers appeared in the northern valleys of the Barabundar. But by the time of Irinaël, it is likely that there already was snow, at least occasionally. The fascinating vista of white light floating over the horizon may have inspirited Irinaël a lot, as an allegory of her paradise. Or perhaps she thought to place it there.

 

The blue Mountains were an ideal place, in a way. However remaining there certainly was a mistake. Even if the plains around were marshy and unhealthy, other mountain ranges were visible further on the horizon, in mostly every direction. Probably some Elfs were starting to speak of migrating to these places, to better follow some spiritual current or lifestyle, or simply to have more room to live in. Elves already had Shelenaë's magical contraception, but by the time they felt they were alone in an infinite world entirely for them, free to reproduce and settle in new places. So projects were many, and optimism was boundless.

 

But suddenly it was too late: some Humans had survived somewhere else in the Shartan continent, and in only some years they reoccupied the plains around the Blue Mountains. And it was an aggressive breed, which at once started to harass the Elves, this time with bronze weapons. It was the chalcolithic era starting, and the end of the Elve's happy Blue Mountains paradise: they had no defense.

Soon their situation became very perilous, to the point that they decided to flee. Moving all together, they deterred any attacker. They set path toward the closest hills range to the south, hoping to have better places with metals of their own. The disillusion was rude: these mountains were already inhabited, and all the others around too. Only higher mountains could shelter them, as they are inhabitable only to the Elves, not to Humans. But there was none nearby!

This is how they decided to separate in several tribes, trying their luck in different directions. This certainly was an awful moment, since they all loved each other very much. But pressed from all around, they gathered by villages, less often by spiritual affinities and lifestyles. There even not is an agreement, among modern scholars, about the number of tribes, between 12 and 20. An added difficulty is that most tribes split further, making the reconstitution of their history complicated and confuse. For instance, the Sambao tribe that we are to follow, further separated in four branches, losing its name in the process, so that it was long thought that it had disappeared entirely. Today, more than 20 early Elf settlements are known in the Shartan, founded by one or the other of the splits. Here also, the further spread of Elf populations and their different degrees of merging with Humans make the whole picture very confuse.

One of the most successful tribe departed at 800 toward the south. As told in the story «The wandering Elfs of the sea», only some dozens reached the sea to the south, in the Skriggath, where they merged with the blonde Humans living here. The resulting people became the Elfs of the Sea, at the origin of many further settlements and of most culture spread in the whole Nyidiath, as far as the south continent of the Black peoples.

The Sambao tribe gathered from neighboring Blue Mountains villages, to which added several mystics groups. It was about 600 strong, and it departed back to the north east, toward the mysterious white mountains sometimes seen in this direction. Of course Irinaël and her followers wanted to move toward the white light floating over the horizon, so that they joined the Sambao tribe.

They had to circumvent the hostile plains around the Blue Mountains. For this, they first moved east, and later north, keeping in the various ranges of forested hills on their path. In order to find food, they needed to disperse in the woods. But they had to avoid staying for long in the same place: soon Humans spotted them, and it could become dangerous. Several skirmishes happened in this way. To avoid this, every some days they gathered all together in a compact troop, and quickly crossed inhabited valleys, moving 30 or 40 kilometres in one day. By the time it was quite unusual to see gatherings of hundreds, so that even the most aggressive locals were scared. The main risk was being followed, and attacked once dispersed for food. This happened too.

It is often say that Elfs are immortal. This is not the exact truth, even if many lived thousands of years. They can still be killed, poisoned, or become sick. Most of them end up being tired of the constant work and hardship of the physical life, so that they abandon their flesh bodies for the spiritual paradise of Shelenaë. This is why no Elf of the Blue Mountains or First Exodus is still alive today. Strong suffering can make them lose elvenhood, where they soon die of sadness, or suicide. A dull life of submission or compromise can make them slowly become ordinary Humans, and then they die of old age. Before the First Exodus, some already chose to leave this world, starting to populate the paradise of Shelenaë. When the First Exodus happened, they were still some dozens only in Shelenaë's paradise, less than Irinaël's adepts, in a landscape of only some kilometers. With thousands joining during the First Exodus, they had a lot of building and enlargement work to perform. After this, it became one of the most organized paradises, with greeters, landscape builders and body modelers, and powerful squads of psychopomps always on the lookout.

Elfs can walk quickly and for a long time. The 500kms journey to the Tonnar needs only two weeks for well fed Elves along easy roads. But none of these conditions were gathered, and by far: there were no paths in the hostile forests, but brambles and treacherous slopes. They needed days to pick food in the forest, to avoid inhabited places, and to follow the crests of the hills, more than doubling their path.

 

This made that their journey lasted five months, until they arrived in the Horzim hills, which lie at two third the way from the Blue Mountains to the Tonnar. Worse, they had lost dozens of them to skirmishes, accidents, mushroom poisoning and other hazards.

They found that these hills were a very beautiful place, sunny, warm, covered with a sparse forest of small tortuous pine trees. They were scented with the trees and numerous balsamic plants they never saw before. The pastel green leaves and pink ground were making a lively and sensual vibe, together in the blue sky.

Add to this the silhouette of the Blue Mountains West side, to which they still hoped to return some day. East side was a fantastic view of the Tonnar Range, with the inviting green silhouettes of the two Humaks. Further were the pale blue summits of the Barabumdar, Stendek and Honsho. The Elves knew that in Winter they sometimes appear outlined in shiny white. By the time they had no idea of why, but they found this very beautiful. They hoped to visit these places some day. But these things looked very big, seen from closer.

The place was also incomparably silent. Not an empty silence, but a heart warming silence, favouring the Spirit. The only sounds were the trees making low creaks while reacting to the sun. Sometimes, mysterious birds were chirping gently, but they were not numerous and very mobile, leaving large silences. It really was ideal to meditate.

 

As the Hills looked safe and desert, they decided to stay here for a while, to have some rest, perhaps to settle. They just set some small watching points, but during their whole stay, they noticed nobody. There even were no traces, no paths. No large animals either, only squirrels, who were not afraid of them. Never they were hunted! So, not only the place was beautiful, pleasant and scented, but in more it had a fantastic vibe of virgin land, of an Eden, their world as it was created, yet untouched by any Human, before any evil even existed.

 

This sensual landscape and Irinaël's promise of a paradise made an explosive mixture. Were the Horzim Hills their Promised Land, where to live free of Human invaders? Many thought so. They discussed and meditated passionately, made projects.

The dream was so strong, and unspoiled happiness looked so much at hand, that probably all of them more or less believed in it.

Some, around Irinaël, went meditating, to reach the Light. When we have seen living persons dissolving in a sphere of Light, and set toward eternal happiness, everything seems possible. They would stay here, meditating, until they reached the high concentration level required to make the same thing. And then, they would all together live forever, in the Light of Irinaël, their paradise!

Others were more simply thinking at installing here in this beautiful and sheltered place, starting to build houses of flagstones around their base camp. The reddish rock was not strong, but easy to work. Straight wood was rare, so they developed a special technique of interlocking curved pieces to make roofs, on narrow houses.

There were plenty of pine cones and berries to eat. After some tests, none seemed poisonous, so that they ate a lot, catching up with months of food scarcity. Nothing like plenty of food to make people feel good, even for Elves.

For water, there were sandy holes in the narrow gullies between the hills. And even clay, pink as everything else, allowing to make waterproof baskets to carry this water.

Of course they planted the Jerusalem artichokes they were always carrying with them. They started a small garden, that they watered daily.

That worked well for some time. But they had to go further and further away to find other berries and pine cones. Indeed, pine cones were falling slowly, and they needed five to ten years for the sun to turn them into dust, allowing for the squirrels to eat the seeds. This made a reserve of ten years of production, but by far not renewing fast enough to sustain them permanently.

Same was going with most plants: the delicious sugared berries were growing so slowly that they saw no difference during their whole stay. As to their artichoke tubers, they simply did not grew. Not rotting, not drying, just not growing, as everything else seemed to do.

This gave an eerie feeling, as if time flowed differently in this place.

For water, it soon became an even worse problem. When they arrived, a recent rain had filled a lot of holes in the narrow gullies between the hills. But as time was passing, the level was lowering inexorably. They tried to dig the pink sand, but the water table receded lower and lower, until they reached a layer of scary black rock. This was the very evil of this land, the silent killer lurking just under the thin veneer of sensual pink soil and green pine forest.

 

Despite its poetical appeal, this place was inhospitable, nearby sterile, unsuitable for any form of living. This is why it was unoccupied by Humans! Even Elfs could not live here, despite their lesser needs.

 

They had to admit: The Horzim Hills were a trap, a deadly trap of which they had to escape as fast as possible.

 

There was a lengthy discussion. The majority gathered around the Malmoë family, as told in the testimony of an Elve called Malmoë Bimigard, who also had been close to Shelenaë. However Irinaël and her disciples held fast: they were so close from their goal! But the majority did not wanted to follow them in the Light: they were not ready. Still too much incorporated in the material world. They thought that the Light was for those about to die naturally. However this very reason made that, on the contrary, some of them who had been maimed in fights finally remained with Irinaël.

 

They were running out of time, with their meager food reserves reaching exhaustion. The split was inevitable. With a great sorrow, the majority departed toward the tantalizing green mountains, which seemed at only 2 or 3 days of walk, toward the east. Yet they did not showed their pain to whose who remained, in order to respect their freedom. Indeed; basically the Elven society is a free society, where everybody is allowed to follow his own path unimpeded.

 

The Irinaël Light group, 64 persons, remained in the Horzim Hills. The very last glance at them showed them installing and sitting in a meditation circle.

 

Nobody ever saw them again, or found any trace.

 

After three days of an easy and uneventful walk, the remains of the Sambao tribe reached the foot of the Humak Mountains. But there, they stumbled without warning on a large party of armed Shkerxes, the Humans who live in the valleys of the Humaks. Probably they had spotted them coming from afar, and they had time to prepare a strong ambush. The silent standoff lasted several terrifying minutes, knuckles whitening on weapon hilts on both sides. Remember that MakTar was a warrior: He had insisted that the Elfs keep training for fight. In more they had gained some bronze swords in the previous skirmishes. They were not dolent victims for the first petty brawler, but a serious match, even for the terrible Shkerxes. So that nobody wanted to start a fight, as any battle would cost dear to both parties.

It was Lillien Malmoë, a teen Elve, who got out the ultimate weapon: her flute. She started playing a simple lullaby for children.

Instantly the magic of music seized the Shkerxes: their hands relaxed, smiles appeared on their faces. Musicians themselves, they knew that other musicians could not be their enemies. Actually they are not aggressive, but when provoked they are extremely dangerous.

The Elves could not understand the strange and guttural Shkerxes language, unlike any other they had heard before. But Bimigard and Ordhrich the Shkerxes chief warrior could communicate by signs, as the two groups ended sitting on the ground, each on one side of an imaginary line.

Their agreement was as follow: the Elves were not allowed in the valleys, but on the top of the mountains. The Shkerxes would show them a path to go up there, that they must follow without straying or drifting besides. No touching to crops, no trying to see the women hidden inside the houses.

So it was done. They shared their remaining seeds and artichoke tubers. Then 121 Elfs and Elves, including Malmoë Bimigard, climbed the mysterious dark green Shamal Humak to live up there. 95 others went to the even stranger Arunal Humak, a slightly higher massif further north, with terrifying abysses and impossible ruins. They had to restart everything from the stone age. Yet, with an incredible perseverance and astuteness, they were both very successful up there, and they are known today as the Sylvan Elfs, and one of the only four tribes who kept the pure genetic lineage from the Blue Mountains. The whole story is told in the saga «Iraen».

The remaining, more than 250, refused to live in a land surrounded by such terrible warriors as the Shkerxes. So that they decided to move further south, in the forested Beyren Hills, sparsely populated with peaceful Humans. Them too are lost to all accounts, although they are thought to be at the origin of the Beyrard Marshizath. (A Marshizath is a kingdom of Humans wisely governed by Elves. There has been many, but none remains today.)

 

Two month later, the relations with the Shkerxes had eased a lot, allowing for a small party of Shamal Humak Elves to get back to the Horzim Hills, to check for the Irinaël Light group. They went until the point where they separated, and found nobody. Remains of the base camp were tidy, with no trace of fight or hasty departure. It had rained several times since, erasing all foot traces. Yet they had a clue: crushed pine cones, to get food. They followed this trail for some kilometers north, where it stopped abruptly, on a kind of crater exposing the underlying black rock. There was no remains there, no traces of fire or sleeping camp. No traces of fight either, no corpses. Never anything was found.

 

Later on, all along the course of History, many scholars discussed of what became of the Irinaël Light tribe. All sorts of hypotheses flourished, and I am myself unfortunately unable to tell which one is true.

While civilization and religions were appearing in the Shartan continent, the Sylvan Elfs of the Humak mountains repeated the story to the Shkerxes and to all sorts of visitors, Human or Elfs. This is how the striking tale of Irinaël in the Horzim Hills spread in the whole Shartan and became popular, as a classical examplification of the power of spirituality. Few embellishments were added, keeping pure its powerful impact. Generations dreamed of leaving their bodies in Irinaël's Light...

For millennia, the common view among traditional priests was that the Irinaël Tribe had been victim of a sortilege, or a local demon. Indeed, black rocks hidden under a wonderful landscape looked so much like some sort of sorcery, trying to lure unsuspecting souls with a fake ideal, and ensnare them into eternal terror and pain. They issued strong warning against «uncontrolled spirituality» and forbade to speak of this story. Useless forbidding, as it could not avoid the tale to spread, and even to become integral part of folk religion and naive worship. But it impeded any official reflection or inquiry for long.

With the rise of materialism and atheism, another view appeared among Human scholars: the tribe was slaughtered, or worse captured and put into slavery, explaining that no corpses remained in the Hills. Many even allowed themselves to snigger about such a brutal «return to reality» for the mystics. The difficulty with this theory is that the Hills were desert, and there were no yet slavers by the time.

 

After the Horiathon Battle, the advent of the Internet allowed for a new slew of hypothesis: the Horzim Hills were a teleportal, the Tribe was ravished by extra-Nyidiathians, etc. The final crater, neglected in the previous interpretations, became central to all sort of strange theories. This revived and increased the popularity and aura of strangeness of the tale. But more subtly, these stories strongly fostered the underlying idea that it was the Hills themselves which are special, and the main cause, and even the only cause, of whatever happened to the Tribe.

Nyidipedia claims that the whole story is a legend, and the Irinaël Tribe never existed. Iraen Malmoë corrected this 10 times, but each of the 10 times his correction was removed in less than two hours. Somebody even added that the Tribe just walked out of the Hills, probably for food. From there, there are plenty of natural reasons for them to be unaccounted for. Those anonymous writers just ignore that, if the Tribe had decided to leave the Hills, by far their best option was to catch up with the Sambao group.

Today some revive the view as what the Irinaël Tribe finally succeeded into their project of transsubstantiating all together, in a single event. The difficulty here is that such strong parapsychological phenomena usually are the result of very personal meditations and transformations. MakTar and Shelenaë are the only known multiple case. This makes that even Elf scholars are dubious: 64 in a single event would certainly be the most extraordinary and powerful case.

Note of the author: On Earth, transsubstantiation is attested in several religions. Still, no multiple case is known either. Same goes with the Tukdam, the Tibetan version of the Catholic imputrescibility of the saints. However we have well established and documented Tukdam cases in Europe in the 21st century. I am personally an eyewitness of one. This is what gives me authority to write these stories, not as an entertainment or gratuitous fantazy, but as a serious business: a blueprint for the future Earth, to give you the energy for building a better world.

 

Modern archaeology also brought interesting clues that the Beyrard Marshizath was really founded by Blue Mountains Elfs, with genetic traces among local Humans, and garnet necklaces in tombs, which can be found only in the Blue Mountains. Ruins of cut stones buildings show that a civilized activity lasted about a millennia here, reaching the iron age. However no historical records survived, as to why the Marshizath finally disappeared, without the Elves could transmit Elvenhood.

 

The Horzim Hills have been precisely identified long ago, thanks to the oral account of Malmoë Bimigard, written down by her grand-grand son Shamal Malmoë Iraen. Unfortunately the original writing was destroyed during the Exodus, and Iraen had to rewrite it from his own memory, making this account less reliable. But some copies of the original may still exist today in caches in the Shamal Humak. This is why scientists of the Tyron University are so keen to protect the remaining Elf caves in the Shamal, from looters and vandals seeking «the gold of the Elves» that they imagine is hidden in there.

Today the Horzim hills are still sunny and beautiful, and yet still desert. But now we know why they are so inhospitable. They are on a large outcrop of dark green serpentinite rock, which was expelled hundreds millions years ago from the very heart of the planet, when two continents collided. This is the dark rock the Elfs found while digging. With time and dry climate, the serpentinite surface had turned to pink laterite, creating this unworldly beautiful landscape. Perhaps the connection with the powerful energies of the core of the planet, or the exceptional vibes of the place, are what allowed the Irinaël group to finally succeed in their collective mystical endeavor. But serpentinite is poisonous to most plants, with a high content of heavy metals like nickel, chromium and cobalt. The transformation in laterite makes things even worse: the very soil, devoid of any nutrient, stifles the roots of the plants. Only specially adapted species can live here, and still growing slowly with sickly and tortuous shapes. Even rats could not take foot! Only squirrels did, because they live off the toxic ground.

One of the most extraordinary things found in the Horzim is that the pine trees are very old, from growing so slowly. Most are 1000 to 2000 years old. Some dead wood was dated 4000 years old! Indeed dead wood is not rotting, just the sun slowly turns it into a silvery fibrous material, which finally dissolves into dust. It is speculated that some of the oldest wood may have been already here in Irinaël's time, silent witnesses of their final fate! If we could ask the trees...

Even today after the Horiathon battle, it is still difficult to inquire in the Horzim Hills, which are now part of the Bubacarian republic, hostile to the Elves. Their government sent several expeditions in quest of the crater and other remains. But even them found no conclusive identification: so many places look much alike, with hundreds of serpentinite outcrops and hollows. They had mined the said serpentinite, to build the nightmarish black palace of the Bubacarian dukes. It is still today the palace of the bogus republican government, despite the high suicide rate of the unhappy civil servants forced to work in its dark gloomy rooms.

But the Bubacarian Republic could not kill the fantastic vibe of the Horzim Hills, the pastel hued landscape, the connection to the billions years history and deep heart of the planet! The Hills were recently made a reservation, for their outstanding beauty and fragility. There is a project to establish spiritual retreat centers in the Hills. The official reasons for this choice are the fantastic vibe and rare solitude, both very propitious to spirituality. But some suspect that the Elven Council wants to repeat Irinaël's feat there. Indeed, this precedent had in a way consecrated this land, making further attempts much easier. The Hills may finally be a great boost for life and for Elvenhood. Just they are waiting for the soon to come phasing out of dictatorship in the Nyidiath.

 

Some thought at asking to reincarnated Elfs, who lived in Shelenaë's paradise. At least «her» must know! But this approach proved inefficient too: it is difficult to bring back events memories from the afterlife, and most reincarnated Elfs just remember vibes or learning, which look familiar to them. And the rare appearances of Shelenaë and MakTar in the physical world had much more important stakes. So likely, if really the Irinaël Light joined the paradise of Shelenaë, they are still living here today in some place. Another possibility is that Irinaël, who discussed a lot with Shelenaë Herself, understood how to create her own paradise, and succeeded into creating it! It would still be occupied today by her adepts, and possibly others who joined them later. Happily all the paradises in the afterlife more or less communicate with each other, so that you may yourself, Earthlings, try to find the Light of Irinaël, somewhere in the afterlife, when your time comes!

 

The end...

But there never is an end to life in the Light.

Audio reading and musics

On demand from my readers in virtual worlds, several of these stories are in voice (silences are intentionnal, to better get the vibe of the music):

Strongly recommended background music: Frozen Frontier, par Fire Side Chants, was the fantastic source of energy to create this story.

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!)

This story has been written in April 2023, for my storytelling events in the virtual worlds. It owes a lot to the fantastic music indicated.

Copyright Yichard Muni 2023.

 

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Modified in 2024

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