sırf doğdun diye yaşamak zorunda oluşumuz en kadim dayatma olsa gerek. bu sabah yürüyüş yolunda [hani şu kauçuk olan] yürürken düşündüm. neden bir zorunluluk ki yaşamak? sistem çarkının dönmesi için iş gücü eksilmesin diye mi ya da kadim dinlerin tanrılarının sen yaşayamazsan var olamayacakları gerçeğinden mi?
yolun yanında akan dereye baktım bir süre. arwen'in nazgülleri akan suda boğmak için söylediği sözler beynimden fırladı geldi birden.
[ nîn o chithaeglir, lasto beth daer. rimmo nîn bruinen dan in ulaer!]
-aslında frodo'yu kurtaranın arwen değil de glorfindel olması gerçeği de ayrı konu.-
sonra yanımdan geçen dayının önüne geçip [ben gizli ateşin hizmetkarıyım, anor'un alevini kullanırım. kara ateş seni kurtaramaz, udûn'un alevi] deyip {YOOUU SHAAALL NOT PAAAS} diye bağırsam mı acaba dedim. ama yapmadım. hava soğuktu, yağmur çiseliyordu ve intihar etmek için kötü bir gündü.
There's something so pleasing to me about listening to things that came from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. The music, the languages, the lore, the songs. The fucking river spell.
Tell me with a straight face that this isn't aesthetically pleasing to watch and listen to?
Arwen brandishes the sword Hadhafang, starlit eyes flashing bright in the near darkness, as she faces the NazGûl. These riders were unnatural, evil killers, so completely given to greed and a slave to darkness, to the all-seeing Sauron. Yes, many others would be tempted by the one Ring, unable to resist the constant whispering that it seemed to emanate from it, but this, this was too far. The NazGûl were the prime example of corrupted souls.
"You won’t get to him/her…!" She moves in front to protect the innocent person, raven hair swinging about her.
And she spoke the Elvish incantation that her Father Elrond had taught her. It had taken years to perfect such magic, but she’d given every ounce of patience, practice, and reading to make it work. It was a great spell to make the water turn against them.
" Nîn o Chithaeglir
lasto beth daer
Rimmo nîn Bruinen
dan in Ulaer! “
The spell took effect gradually; the first sound was the earth to seemingly rumble, then more and more waves crashing against rocks. This soon brought upon a mini avalanche of thousands of watery waves to rise up in the river, in the likenesses of horses, and crash down upon the unspeakably evil riders. This of course, would not kill them—they were near-immortal, after all—but it would slow them down.
Arwen briefly admired the powerful effect of the spell, before turning to the person she’d rescued, concern present in her eyes.
Nîn o Chithaeglir lasto beth daer;
rimmo nín Bruinen dan in Ulaer!
Nîn o Chithaeglir lasto beth daer;
rimmo nín Bruinen dan in Ulaer!
(Waters of the Misty Mountains, hear the word of power, rush, waters of Bruinen ((Loudwater)), against the Ringwraiths!)