Lost Tales from Middle-earth

Môr o Galad

For a moment she was speechless, at loss for words. He continued.

"For too many years, I have regretted never asking you to become my wife. I was afraid and I did not know if I was ready. Never in my life had I been this wrong."

She placed her hand on the side of his face, her long fingers caressing his cheek.

"Thranduil, listen to me. When I left you, I was terrified. Terrified of hurting you. Terrified of rejection. Terrified of myself. It was the second worst mistake that I have ever made. To you, a thousand times, and more, if need be proof of my love, I say yes. Yes. I want to stay with you for ever. I am yours until the world ends, and yours for whatever awaits us afterwards."

He cupped her face in her hands and kissed her.

As their lips met, all birds stopped singing their merry songs to listen to the tale of the Wind, all creatures of the rivers and sea stopped swimming, to better hear the melody of the water. All beasts, all animals, every Elves, Humans, Dwarves, Maiar, Orcs, Goblins and Hobbits froze, as if enchanted.

Time itself had stopped for them.

Even in their faraway land, the Valar listened to the song of Love that the World was playing.

Of happiness, Yavanna cried, and as her tears fell to the ground, a new Tree blossomed in the soil of Valinor, where she stood.

The Tree was not one, but two intertwined. A Tree whose bark was darker than the Void itself and a Tree that seemed made of pure starlight. They were Two. They were One.

The light that came from them was as a beacon of hope, and the night sky was illuminated with thousands of lights, as a prism dancing above the heads of all, outshining the brightest stars and the Moon.

Elbereth fashioned that blessed night twin stars, in the image of the new Tree, that shone the brightest when the Livers were together.

Those stars were named Ilfirin Elena, the Immortal Stars.

Námo himself was brought to tears by the spectacle, for the second and last time ever.

All living beings, whether they be Good or Evil, gazed at the sky and were awed.

That night was named the Môr o Galad. The Night of Light. For many years it was celebrated, until the Tale was lost to legend and forgotten by all.

Yet not all were rejoiced during the Môr o Galad. Two beings it made unhappy. One, as you might expect, was Sauron, whose Power resides in the sorrow and weakness of others, whilst this night has raised the spirits of all, but the other none expected to fall to darkness.

You might have guessed what his name was, but I shall tell you nonetheless. His name was Legolas, and the path that he chose could bring Arda to a reign of darkness and despair.