A moment of silence lingered after the singing bell’s song settled into the glade. 

Obeying its sacred command, everyone put away their things and began moving toward the Heart of Gälnos like brooks flowing into its life-giving lake.

Fëor reluctantly followed.

In those days, assemblies in Gälenor were still conducted like symphonies—a tradition with roots in the early days of Pelren when the Fëolásrí still dwelled together as one. Everyone had a part to play. The ëolfëánorí gathered beneath Gälnos to serve as conductors, while soloists and sections rose to melody and returned to harmony as the discussion ebbed and flowed. 

Fëor was fated to be among the soloists this time; and though many would revel at such an opportunity to indulge their ego and elevate their social standing, he was devastated. So great was his anxiety that he shuddered when Bëolnos began to speak.

“My deepest thanks to all who have gathered here. As rumor spreads more quickly than the light of dawn, I am sure that most of you already know why we have come here again just weeks after our annual summer assembly. But do not fret, my friends, for we shall keep this meeting brief.”

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

A new voice spoke next.

“Merely six dawns ago, a young Eldásr came close to this very glade.”

It belonged to Rëálnos the Ánor-blind, a starry-eyed owl of great wisdom.

A few gasps of surprise echoed his words, followed by a swift crescendo of murmuring.

“How is that possible?”

The voice of an old Ëolr with a long, white beard rose above the rest. His frustration resonated with several others, though, who swiftly followed his lead.

“Where do our tributes go if not protection against such a thing? How careless have our scouts become?!”

“Perhaps they spend our tributes on treats, fattenin’ themselves instead o’ fightin’ fer us.”

“Are traitors in our midst?”

“Not a single soul saw this Eldásr wandering throughout our home? Preposterous! They must have come from the sea.”

“Are those routes not protected, too, though?”

“The Lualválorí must be sleeping in their boats.”

“Baseless slander! We have been more vigilant than the land-watchers, I assure you. They are the ones who have grown lazy, hiding behind the gnarled roots of their travel-hindering trees.”

“How dare you speak so slanderously of our sacred ëánár! This is why we still don’t trust the Luálrí. You’ve slayed our lords before. Maybe you’re actually helping the Eldásrí! They want to burn all of our trees to the ground. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?!”

"Enough banter," Bëolnos boomed. "We do not know how the Eldásr made it this far. Our friends and allies are investigating that very conundrum. Give them time. Do not turn against your neighbors without first taking time to consider the matter more carefully. I suspect Gylthra guided the Eldásr; and we are in no place to question the intentions of the eldest hylëa. What matters most now is not how it happened, but what must be done now that it has come to pass."

Drums of discontent continued to reverberate through the assembly, but he continued unabated.

“She was indeed found, eventually. Várnos and myself bore witness, along with Valýría, the elder daughter of Lëra, and Fëor, the younger berry-born son of Gälnos.”

Several eyes looked to Fëor with amazement and scrutiny; but many more looked frantically for Valýría and Várnos, who were no where to be found.

Another new voice answered them.

“Valiant Valýría and Várnos have gone west.”

It belonged to Rogálos, the swift eagle and messenger of the ëolfëánorí. 

“Shortly after news of that Eldásr’s arrival reached our ears, more of my kindred came from the edge of the Meadow of Mýrás to warn us that Pelrëan troops had entered Gälenor.”

The crescendo that had been building in the glade suddenly erupted, devolving their symphony into a cacophony of panic.

Few knew, it seemed, about the troops.

Denial and dread danced within Fëor, trying to determine which emotion would rule over him. He wanted to avoid reality for a third time, but hearing the news from the ëolfëánorí in such a sacred place set it all in stone. He couldn't pretend to fool himself anymore. Dread had finally prevailed.

“And to make matters wooorse,” yet another voice added, this time belonging to a raccoon-dog named Tálnos. “We haven't been able to fiiind the Eldásr who caaame here.”

That was the final straw.

“How could she escape Valýría?” a lynx Gälr questioned. “Was she not surrounded by two ëolfëánor, the queen of our kindred, and...a shut-in peasant?!”

“A shut-in peasant?” Fëor decried. “That...that doesn't seem very nice.”

“D-don't take it too personally,” Hálin soothed his friend awkwardly. It was kind of true, after all.

Belor was too busy suppressing his laugh (unsuccessfully) to offer any comfort whatsoever.

“You’re telling us this Eldásr slipped through our defenses, outmatched our finest members—plus Fëor, I guess—and then escaped completely unharmed? Was she simply so skilled, or—”

“I let her go.”

Bëolnos answered simply without hesitation.

But that proved to be disastrous.

Chaos, clamor, cacophony…

Too many voices rose in protest and dismay. How could he be so foolish? They felt betrayed.

Rëálnos tried to explain Bëolnos’ decision, for he alone could see the flow of ethýr, the fabric of the universe, but no one listened. No one could even hear him. The folk of Gälenor, fearing for their lives and home, quickly lost faith in the greater land-spirits that had long protected them. Two strikes of failure were just too much for them to ignore. Perhaps the ëolfëánorí truly were too old to understand their modern plights…

But then a Luálr woman began to sing, cutting through the calamity. 

She stood tall and firm as others quavered, her braided silver hair shimmering like the full moon. Her purple-gray skin was painted with lavender swirls. Her pale, violet eyes were regal and refined, filled to the brim with serenity (and sorrow). Her name was Gylda, the younger daughter of Lëra.

“Listen,” she said after her song ended. 

The glade fell silent, captivated by her spell. 

“Listen and learn. Hear the whole story. Speak not before nor during, but after with clarity; for only a calm heart and open mind can see through the fog.”

Her manner of speaking was archaic, but that is precisely what gave them power in that moment. Indeed, she stood before them as proof that the past lives on in the present, passed down and reshaped.

“All voices, new and old, give us guidance,” she continued. “And we can only improve upon the past after first facing it, so listen and let them speak.”

Bëolnos bowed deeply.

“You have my gratitude, lady Gylda,” he said. “But despite your words, I shall indeed let the younger voices be heard instead.”

He turned his green eyes to the glade before him, searching for a single shut-in peasant.

“Fëor, please share your experience with us.”