Whispers

   Perhaps you are familiar with the feeling ...

You have lost something, and you do not remember what it is, or where it was lost, or how. You know that it is something of yours that has been misplaced... your shelf seems emptier somehow, and though you cannot even begin to describe it, you know that you greatly desire to have it back ...

  Sorrow without hope is despair. Although my heart is heavy, as though it has been anchored to the lowest depths of the ocean, I feel hopeful still, that this weight will pass, and that there will again be cause to have joy. There is nothing they can do to take that from me. Even should death watch me from around the corner, I will smile to him.

        
            

Fall of Ungoliant's Spawn

Nilithion Has Been Defeated!

The dreaded spider from Moria has at last fallen by the hand of courageous heroes: Captain Evonfall, Tyrral, Tarvhos, Mosaine, Caladheil, and Warey the River-Maid.

From Evendim to the Misty Mountains, the fellowship pursued this dreaded creature on a long and exhausting hunt, which at last concluded within the depth of Helegrod. The length of time spent in the bitter cold with limited rations left the fellowship half frozen and weak, yet they resolved not to let the monster escape this time. When the battle commenced, it took a vicious toll on all concerned. By the hand of the Elf scout Caladheil, the beast took a blow which felled her, but it was a hard earned victory. All members of the group had be injured, many with fatal poison, and lost consciousness in the dark of the cave along side the body of their enemy.

The identities of those who came to their rescue remain unknown, yet each member of the fellowship was delivered alive to Rivendell with poison removed and wounds dressed. As of now, these heroes continue their path to healing and rejuvenation in The Last Homely House.

The land has been cleansed of the spider's maddening influence and news has spread abroad of her death. Peace has returned to nature is seems, yet tales say there is still evil brewing within Moria-- What evil sent the Rune Hunter forth from that place remains unknown. What action will now be taken against it is the decision of kinship leader Skalithor Mountainzephyr.

-Dorus

New Year's Kinship Challenge!

Thank you for your participation
in last years Kinship challenges! 

This year we will be continuing our theme of "Unity" as we move into one of the most challenging stages of our collaboration effort. Our last two challenges involved "Photography" and "Interpretation", wherein our members voted for the screenshot that best represented our theme and were then challenged to take one object in the scenery and creatively describe it as a character. 

Very good job to all those who chose to participate! These submitted entries will serve as the outline for the next step:

 ILLUSTRATION

The instructions for this month's challenge are as follows; 

Participants will be given one of the descriptions from the previous challenge to illustrate in any visual medium of their choice. 

An illustration is a visual compliment to a story. The objective of an illustration is to enhance the writing without distracting from it, and to do so an illustrator must be attentive to the author's description. Nothing is more frustrating or unappealing than an illustration that improperly represents the original text of a work. So in this challenge you will be putting your talents to the test through comprehension of an author's original idea and fitting it into visual format in a way that illuminates the concept precisely and artistically, incorporates the challenge's theme, and merits the work of the author as well as the illustrator. 

Best of luck to our incredible artists!  

 

Allegory of the Wind

Will the grass oft speak of the trees when the wind blows over the mountainside?
Oh you little ones, gently swaying in the breeze, look to your elders under whose boughs you have grown; twas they that sheltered you from the downcast snow, but shadowed you beneath their glory. Thus, how oft will the Grass speak of the Trees?

Be plentiful and merry, chipper leaf of grass, give to your own while the season lingers, else comes the bitter winter, whereunder all green grows pale. So blessed and happy, for a life so short, as ought it to be; Grass that grows beneath the stones is pale and cold and sings no song for its mother earth. Will you not look skyward and laugh? Your time is too short to dwell under rock and foot. Cover the land, how splendid and merry, give to the sky your beauty while in your prime, else in passing seasons, earth grow grey and pale. 

Will the trees oft speak of the mountain when the wind blows through the grass?
 Oh great elders, look to the mountain on which you stand, with leaves rattling as the zephyr passes o'er; Tis the shadow of the mountain's mighty form, that guards you 'gainst the tempest's fearsome wrath. Yet, how oft will the Trees speak of the Mountain?

In the dark and cold embrace of earth, your roots were nurtured and grown, yet twas the light of sun that drew you out to reach, Great Trees of the Mountainside. Pardon the wind in passing, that it should linger about in your arms, yet look skyward all, and ne'er cease to reach for the skies.
Seasons unnumbered, affliction often suffered, time as a whisper has no meaning - for you who live longer than man. Look down upon the grass at your root, ne'er they ever to live half-so long. One season for them all, and then their time be done, but their seed shall last longer than the root of the Great Trees on the Mountainside.

Will the mountain oft speak of the wind when the trees rattle and the grass

gives sway?

Oh great giant whose days none know, heavenward your gaze is spent and ageless your foothill stay; look to the wind that brings you sign of the tempest passing near, for it wages war against your little ones, else you halt its way. Still, how oft will the Mountain speak of the Wind?

Mighty Mountain with face above cloud and storm, foremost the guard of land, and guide of rain to feed those all, every root that needs earth still... Great seasons have you endured, stolid, unshaken, worn and weathered; beaten and scorned, yet for the reason to lift others nearer the sky. Beneath your base a fire is kindled, burning deep, yet ever resting, though rest it may til all else is done, when then to rise and shake land and air. From the earth you came, so separate from the sun, rising to bask in light of glory - to greet every growing dawn. Great Mountain with gaze out upon tree and grass, first to tempest meet, and keeper of sun's last ray, so to let light descend on earth in final day...  


Will the wind oft pass through the grass and trees on the mountainside?
Oh you who is the wind, wandering to and fro from pasture and peak, dancing between branch and root and leaf; twill always be that you look upon the trees and grass, while you sojourn upon the mountainside, for these may yet have what you seek, lest from them you turn away. Then, how oft will the Wind pass through the Grass and Trees on the Mountainside?

You, who to yourself are wind, begotten of tempest's wrath, the only to rest on mountain face and still glide between blade and bough unstayed. You go from the foothills to the peaks, ne'er dwindling too long, yet for the tempest's break you do flee, both to him and from. Twas the tempest from whence you came that continues your journey on, yet pause a moment and listen here, to the tale of grass-green, rock-deep, and bough-long - for all they have words for you that echo to a timeless dawn: From the Grass of the foothills may these words be kept; waste not your time while in your prime and delay not to serve the skies. From the Trees of the white peaks, an ageless chorus they call; cherish the small things that are in your keeping, for twill be they who carry your song. And from the Mountain-wise with his face so high, these words a whisper to the wind: Do not forget your purpose here, and what in this brief moment you have seen, for the story goes on and we are all one small piece.

An Allegory of the Wind

~Lynsyrien

Truth

  Dear Mother,

It's been a while since I've last written to you. As it stands, I am currently in the majestic Elven home of Rivendell, preparing to journey with a handful of Skalithors best men into the Misty Mountains. There is time yet, however,  before we embark, which naturally has lent me more hours than I might ever be comfortable with, to reflect on the thoughts in the distant reaches of my mind.

Lo and behold, when you traverse those dark seas of your soul, you get caught in it's waves. The darkness, the power of them seeming so overwhelming, so consuming... You may gain a certain pleasure even, in feeling the torrent beat away your being, that it becomes like an abusive love affair. In time, you only wish you would be swept under and drowned to be rid of it all. If only it were so easy - then perhaps a coward such as myself could succumb to the abyss that no feeling can ever touch.

There's an anchor, however. It's almost agitating, the way that it tethers you to it; pulling you back up from the darkest reaches of despair. Fight as you might, there is no ocean so vast and so violent that this anchor can't pull you from it's grasp. You are never so lost in it's depths that it can't find you. Even if you are forced to the bottom, it's heavier still, and it will meet you and drag you up time and time again. Whether or not we see it, or feel it, it exists constantly.

This anchor is friendship. The steel it's forged with is something greater; charity, love, commitment, humility, hope, faith - everything that the darkness fears. The rope that binds it to the ship is a bond that cannot be broken, frayed, or cut by any evil. Once we've established that bond, it is eternal. The ship itself is something far greater than we will ever be able to fully comprehend, and has traversed more seas than we will ever know. Across the hull of this ship, you will find Truth written.

I've learned recently that no man at all times is happy. We are perceiving creatures; we must let ourselves feel the ebb and the flow of the tide. If we fight those adverse currents, we will be taken by them. We can however, in those moments of harshness, learn and let ourselves be shaped in the way that stone does not argue against the tides that bring it's character about with time. We will, with patience, know empathy, and understanding, and gain wisdom. We will grow stronger, as the weakest parts of us are gnawed away as limestone, until all that's left is a pillar of marble.

Therefore, let yourself feel the pains of life and not be consumed, but rather, when Truth comes, let it take you back to the surface and breath. We are here still.

           -Tarvhos Bartholomaus

New Kinship Challenge!

Thank you all for your participation 

in June's Kinship challenge! 

This screenshot, taken by our very own Dez was voted to best represent the theme "Unity" and will serve as the reference for the rest of our collaboration challenge! 

We hope you all are well rested, because here is where the challenge gets challenging! 
The next step of this collaboration is (get ready for it -)

 INTERPRETATION

So here are the instructions for this month's challenge; 

Select one aspect of the above screenshot, interpret its meaning, then give it life through creative description. 

Artistic interpretation is one of the most fundamental stages of the creative process. In this month's challenge, each member is to choose one thing that can be seen in the above screenshot, discover its hidden meaning, and describe why he/she thinks the object is important to the overall theme of the scene. Get with other kinship members to make sure every participant has chosen a unique object to describe, and enhance the meaning of the scene through creative discussion. The descriptions you come up with will become the project outline for the next stage of this collaboration.

Remember! The collaboration theme is "Unity"

So put on your thinking caps, get inspired, and good luck!

Imaginary fears & a True Story

Dear me, it has been quite some time since I last wrote anything... To tell you the absolute truth, I've been running away from my troubles. Yes, a person can get quite fond of doing that, "hiding under the covers to keep out imaginary fears" as they might have said when we were children. Well, I have quite a few imaginary fears in my head right now, and I don't think you'll mind if I told them to you... you are, after all, only pages.

You see, a long time ago, there was a friend of my sister's who had some troubles. She was a good sort of person, and my sister was very fond of her. But she was only a girl, and when you are a girl and you're hurting, you get it into your head to do some very bitter things, and you don't really pause to consider what might happen to other people if you do those things ... Well, I suppose we all do that from time to time, but anyway. 

Once, on a spring day, that little girl heard my mother talking about moving to a place faraway in the Shire, and the little girl was afraid she would lose her friend, my sister... 
Now, being a friend, and one we all considered to be a close one and trusted, we ne'er kept many secrets from her, why - she knew our faults pretty well, and she had heard us laughing and teasing one another from time to time to do some stupid things which we never actually did. But when she had this thought, that she would lose her friend, she got angry... 

I think I'll make a little bit of the story up now, because these sorts of stories make more sense when you don't think of monsters as people, for of course, that's what they really are - all of them - people. Trolls, goblins, ogres, and other terrible sorts, they're all people in their own way, with legs and arms and minds and hearts ... and reasons...

The little girl I mentioned before, we'll call her Tilly, she ran into the woods in anger and frustration. I don't know if she cried any, but she must have told her father at least a little about her distress. Tilly's father had been a friend of my parents, but when my uncle and aunt came to live with us for a little while... well, you see, they offended him, and he had been very angry ever since. So when he heard about Tilly's frustration, he nodded his head and started off across the Shire, and went over the bridge into Bree land, and climbed the hills to a very secret place. 
There was a cave in the tops of the hills many people knew about, and which everyone feared. No one would go near it, and with good reason, for those that went in never came out quite as whole as they were prior. Here, Tilly's father came and looked in, for he knew what was inside and had been here before.

"Hoy in there," he called into the cave, "You must be hungry. Well, I have just the sort to satisfy, and it won't take you long - go to the Shire, there's a hole you can find, you'll know it by - " and here, Tilly had helped, for she had told her father secrets only she would know, and he stirred them to make them more lie than truth, and told the old cave-dweller exactly what it needed to know to find our home. 

"Don't worry," said the cave-dweller, "If what you say is true it'll be a snap! I'll find it in a blink and carry all them hobbits off to come live with me here, and those that offended you - tut tut - they'll see all their children gone and they'll be sorry. Why yes, they'll be sorry!" 

So off the creature went, patting Tilly's father on the head like a good son, for Tilly's father himself had been carried off by this same monster years ago before Tilly was born and he had been raised here, in its dark cave.

Into the Shire the creature went, looking as it may, and when on a brisk September afternoon it found us, well .. it didn't delay. Up to the door it came, but we were wise and kept the door closed, for we knew mother and father were away. 

.... It was a close shave, I'll give you that. Mother and father fought with the beast when they found it at the door and it fled far over the hills! But we needn't been told how close we'd come to losing them or each other forever that day. We were scared, and we were hurt. Mother and father closed the door shut, and they forbid us ever roam the hills lest the beast return... We knew not who had sent the monster our way, and we thought perchance - at least all we children did - that we had brought it here, for so often had mother and father said, "Put up your toys and make your beds, lest the monster that lives in a cave far away smell your things and come creeping out to find you!"  

It was some time later when we found out the truth, for Tilly's mother was my mother's friend also, and she apologized in a way without telling. She had known nothing of the trick her husband played, until of course she knew, but then she could not tell my mother lest my mother and father rouse the neighbors to hunt the beast and run-out her husband also... yet she was sorry. We all were... nonetheless once it was done, it was done, and the harm could not be undone for many years to come. We hid our secrets from our friends and closed our mouths tight, little did a smile ever reach our eyes, and never did we roam the hills.

 So you see, that was a long time ago. So very long that steadily my siblings and I learned to roam the hills again. None need wonder for me, if they know me well, for I love adventure - the hills and the wild lands have so much to offer! Such blessings that can be found nowhere else in the world!
... But I can't help, every once in awhile, looking over the hills and wondering if that monster may be somewhere out of sight, waiting to find me and snatch my family away.

Now, although I have made up parts in this tale, its based on a true story, and for those who might have asked and I said nothing, this story tells you about my imaginary fears. I can't trust as easy as I once did. I am cautious of friends now, and it has only been because of some very special friends I've met recently that I've been able to learn how precious a friend really can be. Still, try as I might, I can't leave my doors open. I'll close them at night and jam them shut, and I'll pull the curtains tight to hide myself inside.

~Maeflower Tooke