Jaynaé Marie

Prologue

I. The Visit

The day was not cold but neither was it warm. Even as the sun shone its brightest, the warmth of its rays were not felt. One came toward a simple stone marking a place where a life lost to time was lain. Never forgotten and always remembered by no more than myth and legend. Upon the eternal deathbed, one placed a single rose. On its stem was a golden ribbon. “Pour Orrose,” the voice said softly. The voice was like a song that rang louder than the dead could hear even as the living never would. For now. 

The shadow of the one at the grave grew smaller and the light of the sun shone upon the stone—it’s name faded by time. C’est l’histoire d’Orrose.

She walked slowly from the grave to join her companion who waited outside the decaying stone walls of the old prison. She lifted her veil and looked at him with her eyes the color of the sky.

“Was he there,” he asked gruffly. He was in no mood for sentiment. He had only accompanied her out of duty.

“I would not know,” she said softly. “There were others there. It would be impossible to search through them all to find one lost soul.”

“Then why would you come all this way for nothing,” he asked as a footman opened the carriage door.

“It is nothing to you, for you did not know him,” she said angrily.

“Neither did you.”

She glared at him—her face twisted in anger.

“I knew of him,” she began. “And of what I know, he was a far better man than you will ever be.”

She turned and was helped into the carriage. Her companion signed and followed her inside. He motioned to their driver and they began their journey home.

I watched them as they left and wondered to myself who was she—this lovely girl who had come so far to remember a man she did not know. I thought about how I came to be—a ghost of a man with a past I could barely remember. For her, I would try to remember. Perhaps one day I would be able to tell her.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–Prologue by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 07-26-2020

Let the saga begin.

Prologue: Orothôn, Êlengolas and Valdôr by Iarûr

“I am Iarûr, I awoke beside the first of those that would one day rule what would be known as the Woodland Realm. I would become the chief chronicler for their household.

The Elder Children of Ilúvatar rose forth by the shores of Lake Cuiviénen. Orothôn awoke beneath the stars as all our kin. The glorious enchantment of the night would always hold a deep familiarity to the nature for generations. For Orothôn, it would grow within every elf born thereafter of his line. He did not fear the night, for he could see more in darkness than light for he felt there were two parts—the wondrous part here beauty of all things bore their souls and the darker more sinister part where beauty lost its soul to things he would some day see.

When he rose from the ground among his kin with the finest and longest golden hair with eyes of starlight with specks of blue. As he glanced about him, he saw the most beautiful of eldalië—with long hair of light gold with deep eyes of grey. She loved him as he loved her—in that moment. They began their journey home hand in hand until its end in a place they would come to know as Beleriand.”–Prologue of TKWR:BI The History of Eryn Galen by J.M.Miller 9-13-16

All the way to the beginning. Iarûr's prologue. He will chronicle the story of Thranduil's family until the moment he leaves before The Battle of the Five Armies and his son Súriar replaces him.